Page 16 of Untempered
His frown smoothed a little at this reminder. He clasped my hand again, firmer this time, bowing his head over it in acknowledgment.
Farewells done, I walked Luca to the door, shut it firmly behind him, and made sure it wouldn’t open again accidentally.
“Luca’s got no idea,” Kadan breathed softly.
I said nothing, setting the glasses aside with finality. I had nothing to say.
“Ah, shit,” Kadan said on a mocking laugh. “I’m done. That’s it for me.” He ran one hand through his sandy hair, this time in a motion that was thoughtlessly artless—pure, unselfconscious habit. It settled charmingly around his face. “Are you okay?” he asked me, eyes swinging in my direction.
I felt the warmth of the man’s genuine concern and didn’t try to smile or wave it off. He’d know. “It’s different here than where I grew up,” I said by way of answer. He kept looking at me, though, waiting for the explanation. I shrugged. “It’s there. The reminders of yesterday, things I thought I’d forgotten. But they aren’t right on top of me, you know?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It doesn’t sound like the best place, nor the worst.”
I remembered the way the Duke had walked into the room, and quiet had rippled out around him. People had shuffled aside, lifting their drinks like shields, their eyes on him. I hadn’t had a drink and would never use one as a shield. “Given the circumstances,” I said, my mind skimming to his daughter and how she’d shrunk, “I’m doing damned well, ’Dan.”
His hand on my arm was warm and firm. The encouraging smile on his lips paired with that worried expression better than the cider had gone with the meal tonight. “You don’t have to, though,” he reminded me. “If you need to step out, someone else will keep my guts on the inside of my belly.”
I snorted. “Not as well as I can.”
“We’re in the real world, brother,” Kadan said, his grin widening and some of the worry lifting. My heart sat a little lighter at this return to normalcy. “There’s no bonus points for technique, just dead or alive. I take it you’ll sleep in here somewhere?”
I shrugged, glancing over at the couch. It wouldn’t fit me. “Might go get my bedroll.”
“Good. I’m planning on snoring, just so you know.”
“You always snore,” I told him, hoping he might tonight, to jar me from the nightmares I was sure I’d have. “Just so you know.”
CHAPTERFOUR
AUDREY
“The clouds broke and ravens gathered. Across the battlefield, the silence of a thousand men was heard. And into the silence the Son said, ‘The simplicity of faith is this: everything the One says is true, and disbelief is impiety. These truths are known as the locways.’ The ravens’ beaks opened, and the message reached all ears, and all understood. Those who ignored the truth became food for the Son’s ravens.”
~ The Book of Bread and Salt
The day of the tourney dawned bright and clear, but the wind had the bite of the coming winter. It crept in through the windows while we sat together on the stone meditating, and cooled our skin while we drilled as the day’s color bled into the sky. My head ached like I’d drunk too much knappchs as Isolde strapped me into the first in a series of day dresses I hadn’t chosen and didn’t allow myself to care about. And I hadn’t found the words to tell her I’d been identified by the knights yesterday. It seemed both unimportant and too big to put into words.
I didn’t trust the ’Ban heir. But I also didn’t think he was an immediate threat.
The La’Angi tourney was the biggest on the circuit for anyone interested in the sword or melee. I heard the purse for the joust and archery was pathetic—not worth the trip unless the competitors had other business here. But our melee was the best.
“There isn’t a single Kingsguard since Barloc had conquered The Countries That Were who hasn’t won a La’Angi tourney!” I’d grown up hearing. “And everyone who comes is vying for your father’s favor.”
But no one ever said the rest of it. They wantedhisfavor, but they asked formine. Because it was the same thing. I was an item, owned by him, without rights of my own. Interest in me was interest in him. Flattery of me was flattery of him. So said the locways, the rules that formed the very foundations of our society.
I reached up and ran my fingers over the ripples of the ribbon coiled around my hair, ready to be given as a favor. Isolde bustled around me.
He didn’t own me. But he didn’t know it.
If my autonomy went unacknowledged, was it even real?
“Have you a timeline?” Isolde asked me, going back over the laces of my dress with sure fingers, resettling and smoothing them.
A lump formed in my throat. “Regarding leaving?” I asked her, just to be sure. Not to delay, of course.
Her answer was the quick, unimpressed flicker of her attention to my face in the looking glass before us, and a slight tightening of her lips.
Time was running out.
