Page 43 of Unrivaled
I’d loved him.I’d never told him, but I loved him.I still did.Mayhap I always would.Part of me ran screaming down the stairs, clawing at the door, begging.That part of me was terrifying.
That part of me wouldn’t have survived.
Falling down into my bed, I rolled myself into the blankets that smelled of him, buried my face in the covers to muffle the noise, and wept.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
ISOLDE
Advisor had a meeting with High Magelord Gautier.Brief, but they shook hands before he left.Seems like an alliance is forming.Will report.—S to Man in the Mountain
19thDay of Winter’s Wife Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 271
La’Angi Keep
Thomas knew before I did, and for that I almost fed him his own testicles.
Audrey took a day for herself, licking her wounds in her tower.I’d figured when she came back up the stairs after trying to visit him at night that something had gone wrong.When I’d heard her muffled sobs, I’d even gone and soothed her.
Viewed pragmatically, her grief made sense.I’d known it would never be a long-term situation.How could it possibly be?But she’d been taking a short-term view with the knight.Hewasa decent man, so it made sense they could enjoy one another’s company.I’d figured it would all come crumbling down at some point, but I hadn’t expected it to yet.
She hadn’t said why.I hadn’t pressed.Eventually she’d tell me.
A rest day also made sense physically for her, though it hadn’t been terribly long since the last.That hadn’t been a proper rest day, just a day without training.Seeing her in bed a day didn’t worry me.
But on the second day, she remained in bed.
By the time the sun was high, I’d scouted out the possibilities and formulated my plan of attack.I’d dressed for the occasion, too, choosing a shirt with loose cuffs, easy to roll up.
The covers were a big, sad pile on top of her.Her hair had fallen over her face in lank strings, and her eyes were puffy.
“Time to get up,” I told her, firmly.
“I can’t,” she said, the words cracking.
“Why?”
“Because it hurts,” she whispered.
“Train through the hurt.”I pulled off the covers.“Nothing’s broken that won’t be fixed again.”
She curled up in a ball with a groan of despair.
I swallowed down the sympathy.She didn’t need sympathy now.She needed steel.“Get up,” I told her, tossing her pants to her.“And I’ll tell you how Iknowyou can still train.”
She didn’t instantly refuse.But she didn’t move, either, blinking her puffy eyes at me.
“I’ll tell you how I trained,” I offered, “when I first came to my tribe.When I hurt.”
The quiet was so complete that the sound of her swallowing felt like a shout of discovery.Battle energy flooded my body, the power making my muscles stretch taut.
“Isolde…” She was sitting up.“I’m sorry, you don’t need to…”
I rolled up the sleeve of the shirt, showing her the scars around my forearm.My hands didn’t shake.I saw the flutter of my pulse in my wrist.She wouldn’t.She’d be distracted by those big, twisting scars, the ones I’d always refused to tell her about, the ones she’d learned not to look at.My forearm looked more like tree bark than flesh.It was testament to my survival.
“You could still see bone through flesh when I got there,” I told her, as she stared for the first time in years, perhaps seeing the marks from the eyes of an adult, perhaps shocked that I’d offer the information.“It’s why I favor my left.I spent months more training my left because this took so long to heal.”The smell of the wound clogged my nose.I dropped the fabric, doing the ties loosely.“Come.Pain is part of the process.”There was no way around it.She knew it already, but we all needed a reminder sometimes.I dug for patience, for kindness, and was shocked when I found some.“The hurt will take up plenty of your time.It’ll sit in your heart, and in your head, and you’ll give it its due.And it can be there now, if it must be, sitting in your heart.”I ran out of air.From speaking so much, no doubt.I forced myself to pause and take a breath.
