Page 123 of Unrivaled
“Good picnic,” Chay said lightly, as we left.
Audrey sent him a dark look and urged her horse to a slightly less sedate pace.If she was annoyed at Chay’s comments, she’d’ve been horrified to know I was wondering if anyone else might end up conveniently poisoned during the lordling’s stay.
She busied herself with preparation for the faire.And when Luca was in the hall that night at dinner, she looked surprised to see him and greeted him the same way she greeted the handful of others who’d arrived that day and opted to stay in the keep.
Talk was primarily post-plague recovery—trade and war featured heavily, too.I watched as she joined in conversations, listened, commented occasionally.When we finally retired, we left Luca in the corner, deep in conversation with a few knights.I hoped he’d be kept busy for long enough to stay away for the night.
Back in her room Audrey collapsed on the divan before the fire, toeing off her boots.She didn’t say what put the sour expression on her face.I didn’t sayI told you so.I figured we were even.
The door opened.Chay stepped in.
“Evening,” he said, accepting the cup of water I offered him silently with a small nod of thanks.“I’m more than happy to tell anyone who knocks that you’re far too tired after all the prep—Thomas said it was particularly demanding today.”
She groaned and put an arm over her face.“I tried to leave when Luca wasn’t looking.I’ll be?—”
There was a knock on the door.
I bit my lip rather than laugh.Chay caught my expression, but he wasn’t smiling.
I grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him into the area where he was supposed to live and die.In a stage-whisper for the lordling’s benefit, I said, “Audrey is nigh abed.Send them off!”
Chay didn’t look at Audrey for confirmation.He waited until I’d closed the door to her rooms before unbarring the big entry door.I heard Luca’s voice, heavy with disappointment.
Audrey, I encouraged up the stairs, out of the pretty dress, and into her comfortable nightdress.It wasn’t all the preparation and planning that sapped her energy.
Hope could fester like a wound.
CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE
CHAY
And to he who works the hardest go the greatest spoils.
—The Book of Bread and Salt
10thDay of Autumn’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
La’Angi Keep
There wasn’t going to be anything simple about the rest of this moon.I stood by the door to her meeting room, listening to the rise and fall of her voice through the door.She always sounded calm and reassuring.
It was another mask, the replacement for the polite submission she’d worn like armor.Now it was all about welcome, it was all about presenting a competent, reliable front.But I didn’t know what she looked like when it slipped.Had that changed, too?Or did her eyes still fill up with gratitude and her long mouth still curve upwards softly at the corners, or press downward in worry?
Three men left, an elder man leaning heavily on the arm of his son.“She’s not betrothed,” he said, with the volume of someone who’s hearing wasn’t reliable.“No modesty, but strong enough to throw sons.Look into it.Those brains of hers’d be wasted on nobility.Give me someone worth passing our line onto!Let the Butcher keep his lands and find another heir!”
I saw the look the two younger men exchanged.I didn’t know how much sway their family had or what their business was, which alone meant they weren’t important enough to be trying for her hand.
Not that any of that would be relevant soon.
Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I reminded myself of my role.
Keep her safe.
She wanted to fight the Butcher herself.
Bile rose at the thought of how that would end.She was good with a blade.Damned good.I’d never seen the man fight.He was a general, not a warrior, but he’d carved his way through the ranks of his betters to claim that position.
