Page 142 of Unrivaled
He’d just quoted what I’d said about Audrey, a little comment ignored in the conversation.He hadn’t been in theroomfor that comment.
For a moment I was back in the orchard.The sky was heavy and the wind cut me to the quick.Isolde’s warning was in my head:They’re Worgs.They’ll hear you coming.They’ll smell you.
The rebel was gone, and the room felt almost empty in his wake.Luca sat, frowning spinning the die between his fingers.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the scratch of beard that needed to be removed before my duties tomorrow.
“Come back to my rooms,” Kadan told Luca, with a friendly nudge.“I’ve got some of the local blueberry knappchs, purchased for just this occasion.”
The meeting probably could’ve gone worse, but not by much.The only positive I could see was that Luca was here and my lady was safe in bed, away from his grasp at least for one night.
CHAPTERFIFTY-ONE
AUDREY
Every person has a value, every action a reward.
—the Book of Bread and Salt
19thDay of Autumn’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
La’Angi Keep
Ifell asleep thinking about Luca, and when I woke the first thought that floated through my mind was of him, too.Had I been doing him an injustice?Could hetrulychange?
The list of things I needed to do was right there, clear as expensive mageglass.The day I’d taken away from the faire had done me good, and nothing horrendous had befallen them for my absence.When I’d returned and found the perfume specialist in my rooms, I’d been irritated, but their pampering had been…lovely.
I had Luca to thank for that, and myself.Luca for listening and taking action, withdrawing his sale and offering an alternative to the merchant, and myself, I supposed, for speaking up.
My head still felt like it had a beehive in it.I still felt the rush of battle-energy when I went through the mental list of meetings.But I wasn’t being pulled from one thought to the next, focusing on details of various meetings, out of order and simultaneously drowned by information and possibilities.
The hive was there, but it wasn’t angry.
I lay in bed, breathing deeply, as I felt my heartbeat slow.Sleepy heaviness didn’t return to my body, but when I was calm, I stood.The movements made the scent of the massage oil the woman had used on me tickle my nose pleasantly.
“Funerary oil,” she’d chuckled.“What do they know?”Her big hands had rubbed the scented oil firmly into my shoulders, into my neck, down my back, into the backs of my thighs and my calves.I’d been a puddle of melted wax at the end.
Prior to that, the specialist craftsman had taken me through what felt like a million vials of samples, taking notes of my reactions.I’d enjoyed the interactions between the specialist and the spokesperson and the care they’d given me between scented vials—the way they’d offered me a head-clearing, unscented substance, the way they’d given me time to think.The spokesperson, the older woman who’d given me the massage, had obviously been sent because of her ability to put people at ease.
Luca had told them he’d made a grave mistake.He’d taken full ownership, publicly, not waiting until I was there to applaud but just because it was right.
I sighed and slid out from beneath the covers.Isolde’s door opened as my feet touched the cold rug that protected me from the icy stone beneath.Soon the fire would burn constantly, and the stones would never go cold.
The thought of feeding the fire, arranging the logs just so, the worry of it going out, made my heart beat faster once again.
“You look brighter,” said my mentor, her skin clear, her pupils their normal size, no veins visible beneath her skin.
She’s safe.No one is sick.And if they get sick, I’ll know what to do, and so do others.Nothing relied on me.I’d made it so.
“I feel brighter.”I wrinkled my nose at the inaccuracy of the statement.“I feel more in control.”
“IfIhad to choose between the two, I’d choose in control,” she offered.
I agreed with a nod, pulling on the clothes we’d train in before following after her up the stairs to where my mother had breathed her last breath.
When I’d been younger, I’d dreamed of closing the cycle.But it wasn’t that simple.I’d met half a dozen men who would all be lingering on the sidelines when my father fell, ready to claim his territory.
