Page 124 of Unrivaled
He was old and out of practice.She stood more than a good chance, if she could keep her head.
But then, in the aftermath?The man who’d fathered her wasn’t going to give her what she needed.Not in his life, and not by his death.
I knew I couldn’t, either.
Damned if I was going to let any harm come to her.
The subject of my thoughts emerged from the doorway.I struggled not to start at her sudden appearance.She wore a single-shouldered shirt today.One big, flowy sleeve covered her left hand.Ink marked her right.There were fine bruises on the inside of her left wrist that shirt was concealing.I knew because I’d stared at them this morning when she hadn’t known I was looking.
I’d left those marks on her.Because she wouldn’t slow her pace.Twice a day we were sweat-drenched.She pushed and pushed until her hands shook when she drank and water spilled over her face, andonlythen was it enough.
I’d told her she couldn’t assess her progress when she was so exhausted.I told her it wasn’t sustainable.
But I’d never tell her it wasn’t necessary.
“There’s guests,” she told me, as I fell into step beside her.
The rare explanation made me hungry for more.“Oh?”I asked.
She sent me a quick, apologetic look.“Sorry.There’salwaysguests arriving, isn’t there?I’ve got a brief break.Allison is making copies and corrections of a few documents, so I thought, why not pop out and get into the sunshine?”
The sunshine she referred to was sporadic shafts of light through heavy clouds.She’d planned for rain for the faire, given the fickle weather of the season.She’d planned for everything, except her own rest.
And, I was starting to suspect, her own future.
“Have you had anything to drink?”she asked.“We can stop off to the kitchens?Actually, I should swap you and Thomas.”
“I’m fine.”I’d prepared for the boring duty of standing by her door.After all, therehadbeen fighting in these halls.It felt like only yesterday the old Steward had returned and so briefly set everything upside down.
There was no way that man’s death was natural.
“I like the quiet,” I admitted to her.“There aren’t many quiet corners left in La’Angi.”
She laughed.It was a warm, inviting sound.
It was fake.
I’d heard her snort-giggle.I knew the way her eyes would slide over to me and sparkle, the way they’d look in shock and amusement.
This wasn’t the same woman who’d sat across from Ylva and pined for the rebel princess, whilst being simultaneously unable to flirt.
She was in there, somewhere.Hidden by layers of silk and silver, now, polished to a high shine.The claws might be sheathed in velvet, but they were clearly still present.She didn’t apologize nearly as much as she used to.
She’d apologized to me, just before.I couldn’t help but wonder if that was good, bad, or indifferent.
“Of course,” she agreed, with an air of finality.
“I don’t meanyourquiet,” I told her.It was lost as a servant saw her and waved to us both, telling us about the honey puddings she’d been smelling in the kitchens.
It was for the best.I’d proven I wasn’t safe to share her space, not in the quiet or the busyness.Not the grief, or the celebration.
She didn’t say another word to me the whole way to the bailey.
She paused by the open door, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the sudden light.I stepped past her, knowing damned well she could defend herself, but also knowing she wasn’t thinking like a woman who was filling her home with possible enemies.
The bailey was full of sunlight, though the city beyond was gloomy.In addition to being well lit, the bailey was also full of people and horses.
I knew them.
