Page 74 of Untempered
Things were shifting. She could see it, too. It was in the thoughtful set of her mouth as she watched Steward Daniel leave with Thomas at his side, in the crease between her brows, and in the light in her eyes.
People were going to die. Nothing that was important was ever easy, and the locways meant too much to these people to trust their participation.
I didn’t gloat. But I did cross to where she stood and press my hand to her shoulder, holding firmly. She wasn’t the type to solve everything with a stroke of the knife. Perhaps that was best.
“He’s scared,” she breathed.
“As well he should be.” I squeezed her shoulder. “Come. Train.”
She shook her head a little as if to dispel the shock, then settled her gaze on me, firmed her shoulders, and followed where I led.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
AUDREY
“The ultimate power is not needing to care.” ~ Matri’sion lesson
He always stood a little back from the window. Even with his bred-in-the-bone rebellious streak, Chay respected that it’d be viewed unkindly if he was seen inmyspace.
That didn’t stop him from invading it, of course. It just meant he took some steps to reduce the chance anyone externally would notice. And I, of course, couldn’t do much about it, short of ordering him out.
I seriously considered doing just that for the third time since dawn as I flicked a wood shaving off the arm of my reading chair. And we’d only been officially trapped together for two days.
“Something strange is going on,” he said, angling his head as if hoping it might help him understand better. His belt jangled. I thought of those thumbs, hooked into his belt, and shifted in my seat. “Even for La’Angi.”
“What sort of strange?” I asked, then shook myself. He wasn’t my friend, and he didn’t want to be. That was fine. He had no reason at all to want to be here, speaking to me. “Is it related to the plague?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t heard the first enquiry.
“I don’t think so.” He glanced over at me. “But I’m no expert. Mayhapyouought to have a look,my lady.”
The way he saidmy ladymade it sound like a curse spat out by the Old Gods. Rather than irritate him and go look, I stayed where I was seated. “If there are any unwell or dead, let me know,” I said, turning back to historical reports on metal use, trying to figure out what might be normal.
Certainly not his jangling.
“Caring about people after they’re deadwouldset you apart from your father,” he mused. “A wise choice as ever, Audrey.”
“My father cares about the dead,” I said, keeping it light. “They spread disease. I hear it’s harder to dispose of a man than it is to kill him. Especially in large numbers.” I smiled at him brightly. Of course those big hands of his were hooked in his belt, his hip cocked. “If you really disliked me so much, I’m sure you could find an accurate way to insult me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re saying you’re like the Butcher of Wolfswail and then sayingI’mnot insulting you, right? Do you think being like that man is a compliment?”
Don’t engage, Audrey.But it was right there. “Are you defending that poor attempt to hurt my feelings, sir? Of all the similarities to have with the Butcher of Wolfswail—” I paused, unsure if I’d ever spoken that moniker before, but it didn’t taste ill on my tongue, so I went on, “—being pragmatic is one I will claim.”
He looked at the scroll in my hand. “Ah, yes. So pragmatic of you to lock yourself inside and read poetry for days whilst others die.”
“You believe I’m so powerful I could make a difference if I left?” I asked, raising my brows. “My mere presence may somehow lift a plague?” I clicked my tongue and settled in. “You flatter me, sir.”
“Would if I could,” he muttered, and heat washed through me, hot on the heels of confusion. Then I untangled the wordplay. Notcompliment,butflatter.
Feeling my cheeks burning, I pretended not to hear at all, in case he’d meant something entirely different. But though my eyes skimmed over the letters, I couldn’t help but wonder what sorts of things Chay may compliment a person on…and whether he truly did only see my father when he looked at me.
Eventually, Chay moved from the window and took up his whittling. By the time I judged he’d been there long enough for it to be obvious I was avoiding him, the light was fading, and Isolde was curled in the chair nearby, napping. I stretched my aching back and set the letters I’d received aside.
The plague was everywhere. No one had found a curse. Any mage who attempted to interact with it died instantly.
There was no cure.
I walked over to the big window, looking out over the city. There were no new smoke plumes from when I’d looked that morning, at least none thick enough to identify in the dying light. The gates would be closing soon enough. I wondered how long it would be before they’d be letting the prisoner in the dungeons out. How long would it take her to reach her people? What would she tell them?
It was probably strange that I wanted to have a conversation with my would-be killer. It wasn’t because her suggestion had been tempting. It wasn’t.
