Page 83 of Unrivaled
“I’m unhurt,” he said, as if I could trust him.
He was well enough.If there had been anything significantly wrong, he’d’ve known about it by now and been unable to move comfortably.
“Look after you,” I advised, hoping he’d take some time to rest, but not really expecting it.
Audrey was leaving her own bath when I arrived.Her clothes sat in a sad, bloody heap, the crimson leeching out into the water that ran from her body into the grooves of the stone.
“I’m fine,” she said, as soon as she saw me.“Not a scratch.”
There was a mark coming on her arm, and another on the side of her head.She was paler than usual.Her hands, pushing the water off her body, were shaky.But she was whole enough.
I sat my basket aside to fetch a drying cloth.She wrapped herself in the softest, largest one.Her shoulders softened at the touch of the fabric and she let out a long breath.
I followed her even steps into her room, drinking in the sight of her.Whole.Shaken, but whole.My heart rate was normal but fear’s unwanted fingers stroked threateningly over my shoulders.Rarely did I act the maid.But my own worries and the sight of those broad, strong shoulders collapsed in recovery made me crave the contact.This was a sensible way to get it.
“I needed my bow.”The words held the remnants of helplessness beneath layers of post-battle exhaustion.She fell down at the dressing table.I reached for the comb, taking up position behind her.
“In those quarters?”I scoffed, sectioning off some of the auburn strands.“You needed to retreat to a room.”
“We couldn’t get to a room.”Then, with a slight shake of her head, she amended, “They came out of the rooms.”
I could picture it.The hallway.The spill of people.“They were the steward’s hirelings.”
“Can we prove that?”she asked, the spark of life back in her voice.
“No,” I admitted, knowing why she asked.“But your father isn’t a man to demand extensive proof.”
The tiny burst of energy she’d got from an actionable possibility ebbed.Her voice was flat when she said, “Considering the messages I have no doubt the steward has on the wing to him currently, I don’t need to make myselfmoresuspect.”
I could see the logic.But… “Kaelson should report, following a direct attack on your life.”
“They were trying to take me, not kill me.”She said it with less animation than she’d discuss wheat.
I hated hearing that numbness.“Kaelson should report, following a direct attack on the Duke’s prized property,” I corrected, letting the sarcasm drip into my voice.“You know he’d want to hear of it, Audrey.You know we can justify this man’s execution.”
“How many people can I justify executing?”she asked, bitterly.
I sighed impatiently, squeezing the water from her hair.“How many would youliketo execute?”
She pulled away.
“You’ve seen what youcando with power already,” I explained, trying to chase the doubts from the eyes.“On an individual level, I can comfortably justify this man’s death.Until you have some sort of bias-free decision-making system, that’s the best you can do.”
“If we kill him…”
I dropped my hands from her hair, reaching for a larger toothed comb.“If we don’t?”
She shook her head a little, her expression pained.“You’re right.It’s a risk.Either way, someone is dying.Because of me.”
That morning I’d emptied the ash from the fireplace.I doubted we’d be using it again for a few moons.The evenings were cold, but not so cold that another layer or two of clothing didn’t make them livable, and keeping the drafty tower heated wasn’t efficient.Still, took a moment to take her drying cloth over the filigree iron guard before the fire all the same.
We would all die for her.
I would die for her.
It brought me peace to know.She may not understand it, but she didn’t need to.
I kept all of that to myself, easing the comb through the snarls in her hair.“They would’ve been dying without you, too,” I reminded her.“In case you’re feeling special.People die all the time for all sorts of reasons.”Quite a few of them this afternoon, for the veryfoolishreason of trying to lay their hands on this guilt-ridden woman.
