Page 92 of Untempered
“I wouldn’t have said so myself, my lady,” one of them demurred. “But if others do, then I can’t speak against it, either.”
I hung back, but the oldest woman looked sharply up at me all the same. “There’s just a few who’re the problem,” she said very deliberately. “I don’t envy you trying to manage them, milady.”
“Oh, I’m just helping out where I can,” the little lady said, her smile sunny. “I’m more use here, cutting potatoes, than I was in a castle, worrying.”
I watched from behind her as she peeled them deftly. Rose lost less of the vegetables, but it would be a near thing.
Who’d taught my lady how to peel a potato?
For some reason, seeing her smile and chat made me feel better about the day. I spotted a lad who’d taken on runner duties coming for me from between the tents, and there was some hope in my heart. It felt good. “Sir, we’ve nowhere the new group can fit together. Should we set up another pocket of camp?”
I resisted the urge to smile at the term, and that surprised me. “How short are we, and can we rearrange any of our families?”
He shook his head. “Not unless someone dies, sir.” Then he looked up at me, horrified. “Or leaves.”
The joy I’d felt was gone again. “Then yes, we’ll set up some more tents if we’ve got them. We want to keep families together.”
He nodded and ran off. I turned back and saw the women around lady Audrey in deep conversation. She kept her eyes down, peeling her vegetables. But that girl knew what was going on.
Steps beside me made me glance over as Chay stopped at my side, shield tossed over his shoulder and hand on his belt like a cocky sellsword. My young counterpart had a good heart, but little sense.
“I checked, and there’s no letter from your family,” he told me, pitching his voice to carry only to my ears. “Bad news travels fast, though.”
I hadn’t asked it of him, and I was caught between gratitude for his thoughtfulness and worry for my family.
“Thanking you,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.
He shrugged, glancing around quickly. “Situation with the guard isn’t good,” he said even quieter, his eyes moving slowly over the gathered people. “I don’t know any locals, and Isolde isn’t able to go out.”
Worry flared. “Is she so unwell?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her in weeks. I haven’t asked Audrey, but…”
“The lady would tell you if it was important,” I said, emphasizing her title.
Chay didn’t seem to notice my pointed correction. “Perhaps. I think we’re in a bad spot.” He looked at me levelly. “I suggested to Audrey we should all visit your family.”
Gratitude and fear, again. I didn’t look around, trusting he wouldn’t be speaking so if anyone were in earshot, but I still leaned in a little to say, “What’ll people say if they hear you calling her by name, boy?”
One of his brows rose. We both fell silent as an older woman passed us by, an apologetic smile on her lips and herbs in the basket in her hands. We watched her go together, and Chay said, “I think we’ve bigger issues than Audrey’s reputation, Thomas. It isn’t like I’m moaning it at night, after all.”
I looked at him hard, not convinced by the casual way he looped his thumb into his belt. For those thoughts to even be in his head meant we were in more trouble than I’d realized. “I take the Duke just as seriously as I take this plague,” I told him, putting as much force into the whispered words as I could. “I’d recommend you do the same, lad.” At the flicker of irritation on his face, I added, “If not for yourself, then for her.”
His expression smoothed at that reminder, and rather than settle my fears, his reaction only solidified them. Whatever had been running through that boy’s head, I was confident it’d get both of us killed.
Before I could even consider letting him have the sharp side of my tongue, he said, “The point is, the situation at the castle is grim. She’s vulnerable, and there’s an easy solution.”
I bit off my frustration with the boy. His idea ofeasydidn’t match mine, but mayhap the simple life had spoiled me. “When do we leave, then?”
His eyes cut over to where she was now stirring the pot. The older woman was sitting, cup in one hand and swinging the other wildly. The younger was nodding along, scrubbing more vegetables in filthy water. I was eons away from that group of women, but the little lady had slipped right on in. I felt even further from the knight at my side, wearing the same tabard as I, sworn to the same cause. He didn’t eventryto disguise his interest as he stared at her. I opened my mouth to tell him that look would get him flogged, and then I saw his eyes dip. The little lady had gathered her skirts and was taking a seat, ready to peel more vegetables.
Fury pulsed through me as I followed his gaze to the curve of her calves above her low riding boots. She shifted a moment later, skirts resettling, and his eyes bounced back to me, but it was too late.
In my mind, I could see myself plowing my fist into his mouth. I could feel the burn of my own bones splintering as I used them to crack his.
In reality, I lifted that hand and put it on his shoulder, leaning in. It didn’t matter who saw, now. “You’re not local,” I murmured in his ear, forcing the words out past my teeth. “You don’t know your manners, and it’s showing. Don’t let it show again.”
His mouth thinned, a silent objection, and my hand tightened on that big shoulder of his.
