Page 193 of Unrivaled
Now Chay was looking at me the way he’d done when we had the plague.I hadn’t thought I’d live to get back to La’Angi then.He had probably quite literally saved my life with his body heat.It was a bittersweet memory.
I didn’t need his body heat today.
I hoped I didn’t even need his sword.
“Can I get back to that place of hope?”Chay asked, the words shaky but not pleading.“Is there anything I can do?”
Those words weren’tfair.It took all of my strength not to shout that at him.
I drew a breath.I tapped my feet beneath the desk.I motioned between us with my empty hand.“This,” I said, moving my hand again.“This doesn’t feel good,” I told him, working hard to keep the bite out of my words.“We’re all facing death today, Chay.I’m aware.You know I’ll support you if you’d like to slip away, though I know you won’t.We’re in this together, and I’m so grateful for that.”
I had no gratitude in me.I had dust and exhaustion.From his expression, he knew that, and I regretted the lie too late to do anything about it.One day I’d be grateful.Today, I was surviving.
“But this?This feels…” I struggled.“This feels like you think we’re doomed.It feels like you’ve waited until I’m weak.It feels like you think there’s nothing left to lose.I don’t know what part of any of that is trulychoosing hope.” He opened his mouth and I held up a hand for silence.“Quite frankly, Chay, I don’t want to do this every time my life is in jeopardy.I’vehealed.”My thoughts went to Isolde and my heart sat like a stone in my chest.“I hope you can, too.I suppose it’s a problem for tomorrow, if we have one, isn’t it?”
He sucked in air like I’d gut-punched him and doubled over, but he pressed his hand to his chest, turning it into a bow.
Hurting and angry, I still gave him what dignity I could, looking away as he straightened and walked from the room.
CHAPTERSIXTY-NINE
THOMAS
Find attached descriptions of all people attending GV.Names are noted where known.Glad Rubes is still alive.—S to the Man in the Mountain
27thDay of Autumn’s Son Moon,
Age of the Locways, Year 272
La’Angi Keep
Only the outsiders would’ve missed the way we were strategically gathered around the bailey.Everyone on the wall wandered closer.No one’s spear drooped.Stable hands had buckets or files in their hands.A gardener was on her knees at a nearby tree, painstakingly removing every weed individually with a large shovel in close reach.
Chay and I didn’t need to communicate with words to know today we didn’t stand behind her.The shield was loose on my back, ready to lower.My hand on my spear was strong.
The bailey was busy.Plenty had left yesterday, nursing their aching heads after the post-melee parties, but some had lingered, hoping the traffic might alleviate.The lady had timed her entry well, though.The sound of hooves coming, not going, was obvious as soon as the door opened.They broke into our sight as the little lady took up her station.My blood drummed in my ears, the endless beat of a long march.
A dozen soldiers, led by Jameison, flooded the bailey.Audrey’s father wasn’t with them.
There was so much space around them unoccupied, but it seemed filled to the brim.They moved in different patterns to us.Two forces on a battlefield.Would we fight?Would we pitch lines?
The wind smelled like snow.
“Good,” Jameison said when he saw Audrey.“You’re ready.We need fresh horses,” he shouted, climbing out of the saddle.
One stable-boy wandered over and took his reins, but he didn’t hasten to the stable.No one else moved.Not on our side of the lines.
“Ready?”Audrey asked.The single word was laden with the sort of arrogance I’d only heard from nobility.Her expression was polite.She didn’t even give him his title.
My boots were too big.My knees didn’t ache.I wasn’t even two decades old and the man in the black tabard loomed over my friend.Winter wind howled around us.Sir.The honorific was a demand, a battle cry.I didn’t flinch as it echoed in my mind.The spear in my hand was strong.Cold.
In the bailey, Jameison’s eyes lingered on the lady.
I wasn’t the scared boy I’d been.By the One, I couldn’t afford to be.He’d died.He’d died, but I couldn’t.Jameison’s gaze raked the bailey.My toes ached with the cold.I held my post.
We all did.
What else could we do?
