Page 64 of Untempered
I didn’t try to fight her on it now. “You,” I said, turning that finger on Thomas and shoving it in his chest, blood roaring in my head. “You juststood there.”
“Isolde,” Audrey began.
“She’s right,” Thomas acknowledged, bowing low to Audrey. “I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t know how it is I survived such poor service, but, oath or not, I’ll not put you in that position again.”
Before she could accept his woodenly offered words, I heard the knocker on the wood right behind Thomas’ back.
Silently, Audrey slipped out, and the two knights moved to allow access to the door, revealing the Captain of the guard and a handful of well-armed men.
“Sir Chay,” the Captain said, stepping into the gap so the door couldn’t be closed to bar him out. “We will be holding you prisoner until your case is viewed by law, acting by Son-given rights of the One, for the violent deaths of at least one child on this day.”
Suspicion coiled in my belly. The Captain had been swifter to punish than he’d been to help, due, in no small part, to Chay’s previous liege lord.
I watched, unimpressed, as he tossed his sword on the ground and sent me a quick glance that was full of accusation, as if this had beenmyfault.
And it was, partly. I’d known the situation in the hall was trouble. I hadn’t realized how much, though, or how swiftly it would find us.
They didn’t shackle him, but they did strip his tabard and weapons from him. I had no doubt he’d feel their disapproval for his last liege lord before he made it to his cell, and while that knowledge didn’t make me happy, I had bigger issues.
Once he was gone, I turned to Thomas. “You should change your clothes, too.” I looked at Chay’s bloody sword with distaste. “We all ought to bathe, post haste.”
“If it’s in the city…”
It’d be in the bathhouse. I didn’t overly care if Thomas lived or died. As far as I was concerned, he was useless. Still, if he got sick, he’d bring it too close to Audrey. “Ring for it to be sent to your rooms.” He opened his mouth to object, and I said, “No one will come in or out. I’ll go fetch Audrey’s water myself, immediately.”
He obviously didn’t like it. “The Duke’s orders were very clear.”
“You catch that, we’re all dead,” I said bluntly. “You could die, either way. But you know what’s more likely to kill your family, don’t you?”
He did. He’d just witnessed it.
Limbs stiff and feet unsure, he walked away and left me finally, blessedly alone with Audrey.
She was going to be furious if she knew what they’d done to Chay, so I just said, “I’m going to get water. We all need to bathe; I’ve seen to it. There’s no one on the door, so ignore any knocks.”
“He killed children, Isolde,” she said, and the words were hollow. “For me.”
I pushed away the memory of that scream and screams like it. “Yes,” I agreed. And I left her to reflect on that, going to the cubby and ringing the bell, then waiting and schooling myself to patience.
The children had the illness. From all accounts, they would’ve died anyway. Instead, she’d stuck her damned nose in where it wasn’t wanted or needed. Things became complicated when inexperienced people made their way in.
The rope was tugged as it accepted the weight of the bucket, and I began to pull the thickly plaited fabric, lifting the water from the kitchens far below. I knew it would’ve been hot when it went in. It was still steaming when I got it up and poured it into her bath, then returned the bucket to its loop. The weight of it the next time made it clear they didn’t know who’d rung for this bath. I put my back into it, grimly wondering what in the worlds Audrey had hoped to accomplish with that stunt in the hall. Truly, it was evidence of my restraint that I hadn’t asked.
The repetitive task was soothing, and by the time the cask was loaded I was sweating from the exertion, but calmer. I sent the last of the buckets back, sprinkled just a touch of her favorite herbs into the water, and went to find the young fool. She wouldn’t bathe quickly. We’d need to sit with her grief and disillusionment. But mayhap she’d see the wisdom in fleeing tonight.
I’d had the thought so many times before that it didn’t come with a spark of hope, just weariness.
There were always reasons to stay, and she always found them.
In the common room of the tower, she sat in front of the fire, dirty cloth in one hand and Chay’s sword in her other.
Horror burned like bile at the back of my throat. I snatched the rag from her hand, then the sword. Tears were on her cheeks.
She didn’t fight me. “His oath won’t harm him, will it?”
The blood didn’t smell right. I couldn’t put my finger on what itdidsmell like, but it didn’t smell right. “What?”
“Chay’s.” She stood, dusting off her skirts. “If he leaves, that isn’t harming me, correct?”
