Page 79 of Untempered
“That’s he.”
I thought of that ink-stained hand curling in the fabric, and rage-filled, childish screams echoed in my head in warning. “Why did he disavow a position?”
Thomas shook his head.
“War’s bitter,” Isolde said by way of answer. “The Master Steward named men he can control, not men who will question.”
“I can’t say, mistress,” Thomas answered, head bowed.
It made sense, though.
I wasn’t an expert on any of this, and curse Chay’s jangling belt, interrupting my thoughts! But if Kaelson had served in a major position during the war, he’d know better than I what to do. And he wouldn’t jangle. “If I speak to him, is he likely to be reprimanded?” I asked Thomas.
He hesitated. “Mayhap. If you were known to be seeking him out…”
It’d be seen as going against Romwell’s directives.
“Fine.” I pushed down the hopeless guilt. “Next stop, then. I’ve a prisoner to meet.” I paused to glance over the papers Romwell had left, but it was all just anticipated harvest numbers. “All in all, that went better than I expected,” I said to Isolde. Shock, and then amusement, flared in her gaze. I was treated to a rare toothsome grin, ruthless and full of mirth.
“It’s early yet,” she said, and the words held both threat and laughter.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
ISOLDE
“Different locales will have different healing herbs available. When traveling, enquire at the Wife's shrines. Local women will be able to suggest to you options that grow locally and supplement your existing stores.”
~ Growing Greatness: Common Garden Plants in Arcanloc
Istretched my legs to keep pace with her longer gait. The bite of the wind and the hum of my own power took me back to another world, where we’d traveled through trees and clearings, over mountains and rivers, bringing aid to our sisters.
I drew in a deep breath, reveling in the hum of tension and conflict faced head-on. Inside my gloves, my hands flexed. I didn’t bear my bow or knives, not today. But I may as well have.
Audrey’s hand on the mess room door was big and sure. She opened it with more force than she’d intended, but I doubted anyone else would’ve picked up the flicker of surprise on her face the moment before it crashed against the wall thunderously. The men within all scrambled to attention as she swept through. Beside her, Mortemon’s sunken eyes narrowed.
She didn’t pause to acknowledge them as they bowed. I knew it was because she’d struggle to restart once she stopped to consider her actions. I also knew it looked like confidence from the outside. And in a way, it was.
The confidence of hurling yourself into a situation and trusting you’d be able to manage it. That’s what she had. The confidence of knowing that there was no better alternative.
The office door of the Captain’s rooms was opened. A young, fresh-faced, golden-haired man with a square jaw and dimples stood there, his brows drawn and lips pursed.
“Smythesson,” Audrey said, and his eyes widened. She didn’t pause in her forward momentum, and he didn’t give way. She was as tall as he, and he was unprepared. “Apologies,” she said as he staggered, and she let herself in.
He looked at her as if she’d been summoned by forbidden blood magic.
“I require a key to the prisoner in the dungeons,” she said, sitting uninvited, with little grace but great aplomb. “I wish to ensure her well-being, as she was a valuable captive of my father’s.”
“I—my lady.” He bowed. “I—of course. If that’s your wish, it should do no harm.” It was about to do a lot of harm, but he didn’t need to know that. “How fare you?” he asked, as he turned to the wall of keys behind him, all carefully labeled.
“Well, thanking you.”
I stood behind her chair, Mortemon and Thomas by the door, as Smythesson searched the wall of keys. I knew the moment Audrey had spotted her quarry from the way her breathing leveled out, and her eyes stopped their scanning.
“How many of this key do you have?” she asked, as he kept searching.
“Uh—there ought to be at least three, my lady.”
“How many do you have access to?”
