Page 189 of Unrivaled
I stopped as the wind tugged at my cloak, pausing to look over the view of the bay.From this angle, I couldn’t see much but darkness.The sea wall stretched out below me, guards patrolling it at regular intervals.
The night she’d helped me carry that guardsman, when she’d hefted him over the wall herself, played back in my mind.
She didn’t want anything from me.
She’d told me so herself.
I dragged the air deep into my lungs.The Butcher would be back soon.We just had to survive.She thought it was live or die, but there were so many things that could happen.Isolde wasn’t the only one who’d made preparations.If we had to flee, we’d flee.
I wasn’t letting that murderer touch a hair on her head ever again.
Back in the tower, the embroidered, shimmering apples that’d dangled from her mostly bare limbs were draped across the back of her favorite reading chair.There was no book open for me to peek at.I picked up the pot of tisane.The mix was one Isolde preferred, heavy on the ginger.Audrey did fresh herbs and a little citrus if she made it herself.
I still poured some into a clean cup for myself.It was cold.The fire had burned out, but I stared into the ashes.She and I, we’d spent a lot of hours here, in front of this fire.I resented that she’d brought Luca into this space more than I’d realized.
If I hadn’t driven her away, she’d never have let herself believe his lies.
I sipped on the brew and fell into my chair.There was no sign of him now.Just a bit of a bruise on her heart, probably.She could take the hit.No one knew that better than me.
I closed my eyes and let myself drift, remembering simpler times, when the Duke was on the other side of the country and we’d just had to worry about plague, famine, and revolts.
Waking to cold liquid spilling over myself, I jolted upright.After what she’s done in the last three days, the Duke will never let her live.The thought was like a lightning bolt through my sleepy thoughts.
It was obvious, of course, but it had been such a slow, gradual progression.Her jackets got shorter or her skirts got more snug.The deals were critical, then important, then far-reaching and intricately made.
Then she dressed like some sort of heathen goddess, fucking pirates and promising tariff reductions as she handed out winner’s buckles.
If she dies for using his stamp, she may as well die knowing she’s loved.
What in the fuck had I done?
The darkness weighed as much as the whole keep combined.I struggled to get the space to suck air into my chest.
What.The fuck.Had I.Done.
I’d tried to manage him.
I’d tried to manage the monster.
Forher.
There was no glow on the horizon.Night hadhoursleft.
I had to figure it out.
I had to undo it.
CHAPTERSIXTY-SEVEN
ISOLDE
Your suspicions appear accurate.Loyalty to L.A.is significant and overrules the Locways in many quarters.To be blunt…they speak of her like she’s both a god and their favourite aunt.It’s bizarre and definitely something you can use.I’ve found my way as close to her circle as I can.I actually really like it here.I’m allowed to say that, right?Safety: cider.—in a coded message from Pickled Beets to Nightingale
27thDay of Autumn’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
La’Angi Keep
