Page 136 of Unrivaled
Well, I hadn’t, even though they would’ve smelled gorgeous as I’d rubbed them into the sun-kissed and wind-roughened skin of my lover.
Grief swelled through me, grabbing me by the throat and stealing my air.I made no noise, but Isolde, above me, leant back as if satisfied while I struggled not to sob.
Their arms would’ve been so warm now.I could’ve curled beneath the weight of one and burrowed my face into their neck, where they’d smell of salt and sun even after they’d been at port for days.The warmth and weight of them was so easy to imagine.
Would I see them again?
A kerchief appeared as I rolled to the side.I took it as Isolde’s hand settled on my back, rubbing.“Cry it out,” she said, the words kind.“And sleep, Audrey.You need to rest.”
I nodded, knowing the wisdom of her words and helpless to halt the flood of tears even if I hadn’t.She helped me up even though I’d gone from highly trained killing machine to sobbing mess.I wanted to see Elnyta again.Just once more.But I didn’t want to, either, because any time they arrived now would be too close to my father’s arrival.
How long did I have?Weeks?Days?
Isolde’s hand was firm on my elbow.The steps were familiar beneath my feet.My whole body ached and my head hurt even more.She rolled me into a blanket, rubbing my back.The tears dried up faster than I’d expected, leaving me hollow.
In my mind, I convinced Elnyta they needed to hasten their stop in port and not return for many moons, lest I fail.In my mind, they wanted to argue.They wanted to come with me.But ultimately, they accepted my choice.Then I wasn’t killed.I failed, but I wasn’t killed.I knew I’d fallen asleep with those images in my head, or dreamed them, because Isolde was gone and the candles had drowned in their own wax.
In the darkness, I ran over how I’d deal with the torture.Whose names I’d give my father to appease him without harming good people.How I’d need to let him torture me enough to believe my false confessions, without allowing him to torture me so much that I lost myself and confessed to everything and nothing.I played out the different scenarios.If Isolde escaped, then returned for me, but couldn’t get Thomas or Chay.If Isolde escaped, but could only get Thomas’ family.If Isolde died.If Thomas died.If Elnyta lost their temper when they eventually came ashore.
There was no peaceful way forward.
But I could manage it.I always did.
CHAPTERFIFTY
CHAY
The curse came from the broken bones of the mountains and the pools of tears that became the lake.The winds blew it across the villages and cities, and the sun baked it into those who’d lost everything in the defense of the people.They were cursed to live.They were cursed to continue the fight.They were cursed to bear the pain of the past and to know they could end any fight...permanently.
—Southern lore
18thDay of Autumn’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
La’Angi City
Kadan told me he could only take three men.It meant that I was away from the Black Borough cronies who’d been dogging my steps at every turn.
I sat in the brightly lit, richly decorated room.The dark-haired serving girl who attempted to stir me merely received a polite response.She went to top up my drink, but there was no room for it.I’d drunk naught.
Behind me, the painted eyes of the woman I’d sworn a Blood Oath to burned into the back of my head.It wasn’t the popular image of her standing framed by the La’Angi gates, holding a torch like a human lighthouse, but a later iteration of that.She stood, her expression severe, beside the empty chair of her father, people in La’Angi colors a blur behind her, clearly facing off against a foe, torch still in her hand.She was totally alone in the foreground.Not even a black blob to show where Thomas or I might’ve been, or a hint of Isolde.As if we’d let her face anything by herself.
I hated it.
Shoving that down, I glanced over at where Kadan and Luca sat, a game of chance going stale between them.Kadan was clever enough to be an excellent diplomat, wise enough to be a great advisor, and handy enough to be a good warrior.It made sense he was one of Luca’s choices to bring tonight.He covered all the bases.But me?What was I?I set down the goblet of wine on the table and wished I could take up my post at the door.
Muscle.Trusted muscle.
After all this time, I should’ve been glad I still had a seat at the table, I supposed.Why Luca had insisted I take it, I didn’t care.My mind was back in the keep, up the tower with the lady who’d taken to the festivities like a duck to water.Meanwhile, my mouth was as dry as the Steppes in summer as I thought of the gift I’d ordered.She needed it for the first day of the tourney, a belt to go with the dress she’d wear to the feast, all whites and greys.Any belt would’ve done, but she didn’twantany belt.She wanted one she’d re-use.
A grey war-belt, with horses embossed onto it, silver clouds stitched into the top layers, and silver buckles?I couldn’t see a way shewouldn’tlove it.And since the craftsman had it in his supply and it’d just needed to be modified for her waist, it ought to be no problem.
Iwasmore useful than just my sword, even now.
I wondered, somewhat bitterly, if Luca thought that since I was good enough to defend the Duke’s daughter, I was good enough to guard him.
“I didn’t mention,” Luca said, throwing some dice absently and glancing over to me.“I got word from the front in the South.”
