Page 40 of Unrivaled
The celebration Brian had declared became an opportunity for Bernadette to put down some of the worries she was carrying.I smoothed her rightfully ruffled feathers and listened to her woes.When she left, there was no vein pulsing in her head, and she looked tired rather than furious.
“You’ll look after her,” she told Chay, putting a hand on his shoulder in a manner that felt motherly.“Won’t you, young man?She’s a good one, our Audrey is.”
He nodded.We parted ways outside of the hall.He said nothing.His eyes were off in the distance, or on the smooth stones beneath our feet.
I shrugged off the unease as I moved toward my tower.Isolde hadn’t returned from her latest visit to Inker Allison.I walked a step ahead of Chay and Thomas who shadowed me rather than flanking me.
Itfeltlike I was walking alone.But I wasn’t.
At my tower, Thomas unlocked the door.The tower was cool, though not cold.I fed the fire, listening to the brief rise and fall of voices out in the entry chamber.I’d left the door open.Chay always came into the common room with me.
The steps were wrong, though.It wasn’t Chay who came in, but Thomas.He didn’t fidget.“It occurred to me listening to Brian talk, my lady, we don’t celebrate what you do enough.”
My heart sank.Surely I was simply reading into his tone?That wasn’t pity in his eyes—it was simply misplaced admiration.“There will be time to celebrate,” I assured him.
“There is,” he agreed.“Can be hard to spot it, though, ’til you’re on the other side of it.”He gave a precise bow.“You’ve done a lot, m’lady.”
“There’s a lot left to do,” I said, because it was true and it also made me feel less disoriented to think of those clear-cut tasks that lay before me.
“Just…remember what youhavedone,” he offered.“You’ve much to be proud of.May your rest be deep, m’lady.I’ll see you on the morrow.”
I watched him go from my knees beside the hearth, going back over the way his brows had pitched upwards to the middle, how his head had tilted just a little, how his words had been offered up like soft reassurances.
As soon as the door shut behind him, I was on my feet, holding back the buzzing in my head through an act of sheer willpower.
Chay was entering, though, and he finally looked at me.
My nerves must have been fraying, because he was the same as ever.When he looked at me, I still felt that curl of warmth in my belly.He came around to his chair before the fire.
“I think I need time away from this,” I said, waving my hand in the direction of the keep at large.
He propped his elbows on his knees, leaning forwards as if he, too, was exhausted.Guilt gnawed at my belly.I’d been worried he was upset withme,but now I thought about it, hadn’t I seen a messenger carrying a clockwork scroll earlier?I’d dismissed it as my own eyes fooling me, but theywouldhide unofficial correspondence.
His silence reinforced my concern.I perched on the arm of the chair and gently rubbed circles on his back.The muscles here were tight—concerningly so.I kept my worries to myself.I wasn’t the only one who needed to step away for a day or two.
Eventually, he blew out a long breath and straightened.I let my hand fall back, giving him space.
There were tears in his eyes.
My heart twisted.I slid down into his lap and felt a shudder go through him.His face turned to mine as his hands bit into me with urgency.Chay’s lips were ravenous more than they were sweet, and I held him as close as I could.
When he came up for air I nuzzled at his ear.The ends of his hair tickled my brow.“I’m here,” I promised.
He turned his head away, breath coming quick.I didn’t pursue him, giving him time.Where my chest pressed against his I could feel the drumming of his heart.
Something was wrong.
I reached for calm, rocking him slowly the way Isolde once rocked me.His breathing became more ragged, rather than less.Keeping myself separate from his distress was hard, but I needed to help, and I wouldn’t be much help if I was a wreck, too.
“We’ll figure it out,” I told him, confident in that knowledge, at least.“We figured out a magicalplague,Chay.We can figure out whatever is wrong.”
“That’s what you do, isn’t it?”he said, the question entirely devoid of joy.“You make it all work.”The way he said it, I may as well have been cursed.From his belt he withdrew a small scroll.
It wasn’t the size for a clockwork note, but a larger, sturdier scroll that still smelled of the richly oiled leather it’d been transported in.My heart sank.I fumbled it open.
It was Luca’s handwriting.I’d got enough letters from him over the years to be confident of that.Without Chay’s reaction, mayhap I wouldn’t have even had the possibility in my mind.
It was nothing, really.Just news the Head Steward Daniel was alive and making plans to return.It wasn’t signed, but itwasaddressed to Chay.
