Page 133 of Unrivaled
For just a moment, I thought she would freeze.
Instead, without even trying to make it look casual, she strode along in favor of putting distance between them.Yasmine and I half-ran to keep up with her longer legs.
Eventually, she found a patch of shade.Yasmine went to get her a drink, clearly looking for some way to make the situation better.
I didn’t sayI told you so.This time, it wouldn’t have been true.
When she returned, Yasmine passed us cups, moved close, and said, “I don't mean to be crass,” she glanced hesitantly between Audrey and me.“But can heaffordthat?”
Audrey shook her head in a familiar way, as if to dislodge a thought worrying at her.My hands itched to nudge her somewhere quiet, to drum calm back into her with the rhythmic movements.But that wasn’t whatsheneeded.
He would dare anything, that man.
“His lands…I don’t know what he makes money on,” Yasmine said, her words almost a whisper.“His farmland is half road now, and the other half turning back to forest.The game there has been hunted out by the army when it passed through.And he bought you ayear’ssupply?Of the most expensive perfume?”She looked at Audrey not with admiration, but with horror.“Why would hedothat?It wasn’t evennice.”
I raised my brows sipping on the berry juice.
“Luca’s lands don’t make money from farming,” Audrey said, keeping her voice low.“He didn’t agree to that price simply for perfume.”
This time, when Yasmine tried to share a look with her, Audrey did not catch the exchange.Jaw tight, she took a deep pull from her juice and then strode on.
She wasn’t for sale.
He would learn.
The promise of violence in her movements brought a certain level of anticipation.I found it easier to enjoy the colors and crowds with a healthy amount of rage in my veins.
The sight of undyed leathers caught my gaze.No garish bright dyes or eye smarting hues, simply a rich deep brown polished to a shine.Boots, belts and brooches abounded.Audrey slowed, then moved across toward the store.From beside her, I surveyed the wears.Richly embossed leathers with metallic trim, stitching so small to be invisible.She spotted the war belt before I did, or rather, what passed for a war belt so far from the Steppes.The wide thick leather was braced by multiple straps more decorative than purposeful.A true warbelt would brace the wearer’s spine and belly.That one was primarily for looks.
But the look of it was magnificent.Geometric patterns, inlaid with subtle glints and stitching to give depth to the designs.She was looking for a grey belt.I’d forgotten that, and I wished it could’ve stayed forgotten.The missing piece to some sort of outfit.The warbelt she’d spotted wasn’t grey.We’d looked at hundreds ofbrownbelts already, and all had been not good enough.
Yasmine made a noise of interest and lingered, her hand outstretched.I held back a sigh and settled in to wait.
In short order, the stall holder arrived to talk to her about the boots and the brooches.Her fingers lingered too long on the belt, though, and he was forced to say, “This would be too heavy for you, miss—I mean my lady.”His ruddy cheeks went pinker than they’d been before.“Mayhap something more like this one would work?”The one he offered up was a beautiful, ornamental narrow item.It wasn’t grey, either.I really didn’t want to chase the perfect belt here, but the stallholderdidhave some excellent offerings.
Much to my delight, Audrey, uninterested in being told what style was acceptable, moved on.It wasn't long before we were pulled aside by somebody in the La’Angi tabard.The afternoon spun away in a flurry of small crises, each as minor as the last and yet somehow all of them requiring her attention until it was Yasmine who suggested they visit the nearest quiet tent.
Audrey settled with her friend, but she didn’t relax.Yasmine must’ve seen it, too, because they were preparing to leave as Luca arrived.
I hated the way he paused when he saw her expression.I hated the way he looked around as if he was confused as to whether that disgust was directed athim.I'd never been the best archer or the best tracker.Never been the fastest or the smartest.Certainly, wasn't the toughest by any measure.Mayhap I needed none of that, though, because even at my most average I could see this man’s ploy from measures away.
He fumbled his words as he tried to deliver the apology.“I'm sorry—did I do something wrong?”he asked.As if he hadn’t just embarrassed her in front of a group of their peers—importantly, many of whom were a similar age.As if she hadn’t crossed half the faire to get away from him, and hadn’t been chasing jobs she truly could’ve passed on to someone else just to have something she could control?
The rage inside of me burned like a furnace.
“If I say I don't want you to buy me perfume, I mean I don't want you to buy me perfume,” she told him, the words as precise as her archery.
What heshould’vedone was to bow and apologize.She outranked him significantly, and while she acted in the Duke’s stead, that held a certain weight.Those customs of treating women with respect were simply a veneer, the velvet glove to protect skin from the chain.I didn’t expect she’d get even the veneer, though; instead, I waited for the wide-eyed shock and fumbling apology.
He did neither.
His brow furrowed, not with confusion but with intensity, the way Audrey might look at a book or a column of figures.
Unease crept up my spine.
With one foot, he hooked the leg of a stool, pulling it over beside her.“I’m sorry,” he said, without the bowing or the kissing of fingers that would’ve made those words simply customary.
He said it like he meant it.
