Page 129 of Untempered
I nodded and bowed on my way out. I had a mighty headache, and I’d forgotten one chap’s name, when I’d been listing the dead. I must’ve copped a blow to the noggin. It made everything make sense.
I made my way back to the barracks, dismissing the entire contents of that conversation from my mind. I’d deal with the cunt-bitten coward later, when everything else was clearer.
CHAPTERFIFTY-ONE
CHAY
“Less information allows easier decision-making. Provide what people truly need to thrive, and they will.” ~ Barloc’s Wisdom, compiled by F. Bergsoniir
She’d already told Isolde where we were going. I couldn’t lock Audrey in, and even if I could, I wouldn’t.
The trek with Ylva had almost killed Isolde. Audrey’d told me that, no, the night outdoors in the cold had almost killed her. “I’ll wear so many layers you’ll think I’m a solstice gift,” she’d promised me.
She wasn’t only a gift at solstice, though.
I paused in the process of packing a small bag to look at my hands. My sun-browned skin was unusually pale.
I reached for gloves.
She appeared with a scarf wrapped over the lower half of her face and a heavy fur-lined cloak, the same basket she’d borne into the city in her hand. I eyed it, trying to see where the bow she was hiding would fit, but couldn’t see an easy place for it. We’d fill it with food, I expected. “Should I bring a tent and bedroll?” I asked, tugging once on my sword belt to ensure it was secure.
“We’ll be back long before dark,” she said, pulling the door open with one hand. I wondered if she remembered me making a similar promise. “I—I didn’t even…should we bring Thomas, do you think?”
I remembered the way his face had hung slack off his bones. He’d been working long, miserable hours. “He’s managing a lot here,” I told her. “And we’ll attract less attention with just the two of us.” And however tired he was, he’d never let her go without him if he knew.
Her gaze skimmed my tabard, all but hidden by the cloak. Did her eyes linger on my chest longer than they needed? Heat spread through me as she turned away as if unsticking her eyes. Mayhap she didn’t only enjoy the company of women.
“As you say.”
I took a deep breath and shut her door behind me. If I were an honest man, which I was occasionally, I’d admit that the thought of leaving La’Angi was lovely. But as soon as we stepped into the bailey, the wind bit through the clothes I’d layered and cut me to the bone. If she’d felt this way and still come out into the city that day to save us from the ambush…I’d underestimated her determination. And even now, she strode forward, barely flinching at the cold as she headed to the stables.
Piles of sleet had built up in the corners of the stones, and the sight of it surprised me. I hadn’t seen the rain or the sleet.
I’d had no attention to spare last night.
Audrey glanced back at me, and my heart squeezed in my chest at the invitation in her eyes. I lengthened my stride to catch up to her as she pried open the door to the stables. We moved together in the gloom, confident in the darkness with the smell of horses and hay. She could prep a horse as fast as any stableboy I knew. “When this is all over,” she said to me as we led the animals out into the gray morning, “I want to spend more time on horseback.”
When. Not if.
I stepped into the wind ahead of her and closed the door after her. “A noble pastime,” I agreed, because I couldn’t argue.
“Will you join me?” she asked without a trace of guile.
I glanced over at her as she boosted herself into the saddle and resettled her scarf over her face. Her pupils hid most of the gold that lit her eyes, but she was still in there, and now she was looking at me. Her focus made my blood heat in my veins.
I remembered my early musings about teaching her to ride. I imagined hearing her laugh and talk animatedly as we picked our way through the naked boughs in the winter sun. She’d know strange facts about the orchard that I’d never considered. I wanted them. I wanted the way she’d light up as the information tumbled forth. I wanted to see if she’d spin in the sunlight, whether frost would crunch beneath her nigh-silent feet, and whether she’d leave boot prints in the snow. I wanted to know if she’d have a favorite flower come spring or whether that, too, might be a source of strange and fascinating speculation. Would she spend the time to soak her feet in a stream come summer, or did she prefer to fish, or skip stones? Would she strip down to her leather undergarment the way the Steppe nomads did, and do her hair up in plaits to keep her neck cool, or would little pieces of hair escape her hairstyle to lay against her neck?
“Never mind,” she muttered, shaking her head.
My mouth dry, I had to stop myself from grabbing her reins. “Yes,” I promised. “Yes, I very much want to join you.” She didn’t look like she trusted me. I lowered my voice, just a little, refusing to allow that misunderstanding to draw another breath. “You know when all the ideas hit you at once, and you need a moment to sort them?”
Her eyes creased up at the corners a little, with a smile I couldn’t see but could feel in my chest. “Oh.” That must’ve made perfect sense because she was suddenly relaxed again. “Well, that’s…good, then.” She waited for a beat, as if she, too, needed to sort through that, and right there in the deserted La’Angi bailey, my heart turned over in my chest. Then she nodded, appearing content.
I dragged my eyes away from her. If there was some miracle cure, then I’d be very excited to spend expanses of time with her in whatever fashion she found enjoyable. But that explanation felt far too improper to be aired in the bailey of her father’s keep. So with need and sadness warring within me, I guided my horse forward.
The city was so quiet and empty that the sound of the horses’ hooves echoed along the cobblestone streets. A fat rat peered at us boldly from the front steps of what looked like one of the most affluent houses in the merchants’ row. I didn’t point it out to Audrey, but I didn’t try to hide it, either. We spoke not at all—Audrey gave directions with a pointed finger the few times she needed to. I watched the windows above us as we rode. I marked the ones with shutters that eased open, but none held bowmen intent on killing us this morning.
Almost out of the city and down in a tier slightly closer to what I’d considered the poor quarters than the rich ones—but still an area with glass in the windows and clean, well-maintained sidewalks—we stopped.
