Page 22 of Untempered
A hand on my arm dragged me back to the present, and I looked at the steward’s painfully neutral expression.
“Yes?”
I followed his gaze past where Mikus had been standing and saw her, skirts in her hands and eyes on me as she danced down the steps to the edge.
I considered smiling, waving, and walking away.
I wanted that medal forme, this time. I didn’t need her approval. I didn’t need anyone’s.
But one ribbon wouldn’t undo that, either, I told myself. And a small part of me trusted her. She’d never know we were forged in the same manner, tempered to a sharp but brittle edge. I’d been re-forged. Had she?
My feet were already moving toward her before I’d finished my thought. I felt like the eyes of every single person in La’Angi were on us, and I didn’t like the sensation. I was comfortable in the shadows of those more used to weathering the attention. But I heard Luca’s dismissal of her and remembered my own thoughts of her survival skills.
She knew separating herself from the herd made her weak, but she did it, anyway. Why?
“I’d like you to win for me,” she said, before I was close enough to see the freckles I knew dusted her strong nose. She didn’t wait for an answer, one of her hands reaching up to the ribbon tradition dictated she give to one of us, along with her blessing.
It felt like a moment since we’d been this close, but I could remember the weight of her still. Mayhap this was why it was called a favor.
She needs a champion.
It was a tourney. It didn’t mean anything. I was sworn to Kadan, and even if I weren’t, he’d saved my life. More, he’d saved my soul. I wasn’t for hire.
In the stands behind her, the watching faces peered at us like crows waiting for an injured cow to still. Soon, they’d pick over our corpses.
Somehow, I remembered to bow. Her hair tumbled free in waves where it still wanted to adhere to the pattern it had been held in, gleaming red where it drank in the sun’s warmth. She untangled her ribbon impatiently where it caught in her hair. I kept my face impassive as I thought about how long she’d be spending brushing those snarls out later. Or whether fingers might work…and what it might feel like to tangle myself in it.
She was pale under the flush splashing over her cheeks. I watched her shake the snarled ribbon, her strong hands white-knuckled. Though it was just a small movement, it spoke of a world of irritation and not a lot of forethought.
The woman wasn’t tempered, but not in the way the circling crows believed.
“Can I help you, Embers?” I asked, bracing a hand against the rail so I didn’t reach for her.
If she heard me, she didn’t respond. The ribbon finally flew free, and she shook hair out of her face. A tiny bit stuck to her bottom lip, and I resisted the urge to ease it away. “Mikus’ll fight dirty,” she murmured as she leaned in close with the ribbon, her hair whipping around us. I felt it tickle my face and struggled not to react. “Dirt. Elbows.”
I’d figured that out already. The bigger question was why she was telling me any of this. I drew in the smell of her, something light and floral, as she wrapped the ribbon around my shield arm with brisk movements.
Was sheworriedabout me?
“He keeps a knife in his shield, and he’s slipped with it before,” she went on, her eyes firmly on my arm where she was tying the ribbon. “He won’t stop once the fight’s done. Don’t turn your back.”
I resisted the urge to look up and assess the Butcher’s reaction to me being so close that his daughter’s hair tickled my mouth, too.
“He’s your father’s man,” I said, cutting over the bubbling words. “Don’t get involved.” She should know that by now. “I don’t need your concern.”
Even if Luca was right about her taking unnecessary risks, she did it due to the relatable drive to escape those watchful eyes and the ever-present threat.
She tied the knot harder than she needed and something about that show of temper made me feel better. The pressure bit through my gambeson. Her too-hasty fingers dug to rectify her mistake. “I’m already involved,” she returned. “Your shield work is sloppy, and he’ll have seen it. He’ll go up and under. Move forward, not back, if he does.”
She didn’t know about the rebellion. Luca had all but said it. How was she involved? My mouth was a desert. “Are you safe, Embers?”
I regretted the words as soon as I gave them to her, but couldn’t take them back.
Her breath shook, and her fingers slipped again. I stood impassive and resisted the urge to soothe her.
“No one goes toe to toe with Mikus,” she said, the words tumbling over each other. “He won’t expect it.”
No one went toe to toe with the Butcher, either.
