Page 56 of Untempered
“They aren’t over the Duke,” she said, and I saw behind her Thomas’ expression shutter.
I shifted, uncomfortable. Because they were, in fact, circling over us. Or the bailey, but there was little of import in the eastern bailey. “Well, as long as they don’t make a mess,” I offered, hoping she’d laugh at the idea of us up here, pretending to be dignified, secretly attempting to count the regiments.
She didn’t laugh, though. “There’s five birds up there, Audrey,” she murmured. “The Woman in the Wood is watching.”
Thomas cleared his throat loudly.
Isolde shot him an amused look from the tips of his boots to the end of his nose, and I didn’t like how swiftly she dismissed him. It felt…unfair. “Change is coming,” she said firmly, turning back to the men marching out of the city. Not a single gap had appeared in their ranks all day. I didn’t expect to find one now. It made counting simpler.
I resisted the urge to sigh. Of course change was coming. That was what happened when people took up arms.
As I moved to follow, I saw Chay’s expression, somewhere between amusement and derision, as he glanced up at the birds. I was sure at some point I’d heard him mutter a curse or prayer that hadn’t been of the One, but even if he’d been devout, I suspected I could follow his thought well enough. Five birds didn’t tell us any more or less than the stomp of those boots on cobbles below.
In some strange way, it was nice to feel that I’d followed his thoughts. For the first time since the tourney, we agreed. Neither of us spoke, though. I regretted not sighing when Isolde had made that mock-wise comment. Mayhap she’d correctly interpreted it, and some god was sending birds to warn us of dire things to come, or mayhap there was a tasty treat nearby. Whatever the reason, I’d let that first opportunity to actually have a half-friendly interaction with Chay vanish before I’d even known it was there.
I was suddenly aware of how he stood only a spear’s length away, on the far side of the parapet. My hair kept whipping around, hiding him from even my peripheral view, but he was right there, as always. He did exactly what he’d been bloodsworn to do, and not a thing more.
That I respected his ability to walk that line irritated me a little, but that was likely just envy. I resisted the urge to glance over to see if his uniform was all in place. He had a habit of not lacing the throat of his shirt that Thomas regularly had to remind him to fix.
Drawing in a deep breath, I put aside the rumbling discontent at the reminder of what I wanted being so close, but utterly out of my reach. A tutor in the sword now seemed like nothing more than a naïve dream to replace the fantasy of a rescuer wielding a sword.
Isolde’s lips moved every now and then as she murmured numbers to herself. My eyes wandered over the small eastern bailey instead. When word came they’d crossed the Brannough, we’d be able to leave. That was what Isolde said. By the time we knew they’d crossed, a week would’ve passed if updates were sent by pigeon, three if it came by horse. By the time they knew we were gone, the river would be rough, the road a dangerous slurry, and we’d be over the Aza Ranges and skirting the grassy fields of ’Ban lands, headed for the Steppes.
The thought was so abstract it didn’t seem real. The way Isolde stated everything with such confidence, as if she were willing it to come true…it made me think she didn’t believe it was real, either. Like this plan, this wonderful escape, was just another lie.
“You’re looking wishful,” she said, glancing over at me. “Want to put on some boots and go adventuring with some soldiers?”
In my peripheral, Thomas’ eyelids flickered, and he recoiled subtly.
Isolde knew he’d done that march on Wolfswail. It was cruel of her to rub it in his face.
“I’m wondering how La’Angi will change between now and the solstice,” I told her, partially because it was true and partially to stop her from needling Thomas.
“Leaves will fall,” she said, the smile no longer on her face, her expression intent. “But they’ll regrow unless you remove branches.”
“Winter’s a fair time to prune,” I offered.
Her eyes narrowed. “Have you shears?”
I did. They were standing behind me, silent and unusable. So I blew out a long breath. “Mayhap I’ll learn to craft some. I’ve time to learn.”
She didn’t state her disagreement. That, from Isolde, meant there were no counterarguments to be had.
I didn’t know which prospect was more terrifying—preparing to flee, or trying to find another way to usurp my father’s power. But while she couldn’t disagree that I had a little time, I’d had plenty previously, and never solved the issue. I dipped a hand into a pouch at my belt and felt the weighted coins Luca had gifted me so long ago. They were warm, and smooth. I eased them into my palm one handed, and the weight of them was comforting.
“Changeiscoming,” Isolde said again, grudgingly. “She works in twisted ways, our Wood Woman.”
Over us, the carrion birds cawed, and unease skittered down my spine.
“My lady.” Thomas cleared his throat, and I glanced over. “The birds…your father feeds them. They’re a sign of approval from the One.”
“The Lady in the Woods would like a word with your One,” Isolde muttered, but she didn’t say it so loud that he’d need to respond. “And the bastards who twist her messengers.”
“They’ll follow the Duke, my lady,” Thomas said.
It was all a ruse. I looked up again, feeling hollow, wondering how many similar signs my father created to give himself credibility. He didn’t feed them because it was a pious thing to do; he fed them because, seeing them, people would look and wonder. And when they moved with him, those wonderings would move, too.
Hopelessness sat heavily, but I drew in a deep breath and let it go. Changewascoming, and it wasn’t going to be as fragile as the illusions created by my father. The change I wanted was like those boots striking the ground in unison—obvious, undeniable, and unsubtle.
