Page 8 of Unrivaled
I should’ve been celebrating our survival.
“Eat,” Chay murmured.
The bread was already going soggy.I picked it up, and a piece plopped back in.A drop splattered my dress.
“Whyher?”demanded a middle-aged, well-dressed man, waving a hand at Ettie, who sat almost regally in the oft-repaired shawl I suspected she’d knitted decades ago.
“Because she knows what people need,” I told him, simply.
“What does she know about me and my business?”he demanded.
“What business is that, master?”Isolde asked, the question perfectly courteous…and most certainly a trap.
“I’m a cider trader,” he said, drawing himself up.
“Ah,” Isolde smiled sweetly.It never touched her eyes.“Cider.We’ll contact you when that’s relevant again, master.”
I allowed her to steer me away.Most of the bread had turned into a soggy, threatening lump.
“Well struck,” Chay said, under the rise and fall of voices around us.
“Thanking you,” Isolde responded, with a gracious inclination of her head.“But ’twas low-hanging fruit.Over here, Audrey.”
Thomas was there, too.I felt his presence behind me.His hands were empty of food, like Chay’s.Unlike Chay, he wasn’t limping.
I was the weakest link.
The reality of that statement made my eyes burn.Isolde pushed me into a chair, and I went.
They closed ranks around me, blocking me from everyone’s sight for a few moments, their bodies shielding me against the waves of noise.
I’d inventoried, organized, assessed and reassured.I’d solved so many problems today I was terrified I’d created myself another huge problem with all the solutions I couldn’t possibly see through.
And the looming threat over our heads:what will the Duke say?
Well, the Duke could say whatever he damned well wanted.We were all going to die if I didn’t make it work.I didn’t have the skills to do that alone, nor the resources to pander to the cruel but influential merchant class.
They didn’t like that whattheywere taking was being remarked upon.
“Eat,” Isolde said, and my body responded, lifting the bread to my lips and choking down the soggy mess of it, though the texture made my skin crawl and my belly churn.Or mayhap it was the edge of treason I was dancing on.
“Can it wait?”Chay asked.
I glanced up to follow the direction of his question and saw Kaelson striding over, looking as tired as I felt.
Thank the One for that man.Kaelson was busier than I today, overseeing the guard and defending the resources we were rehoming.If he was here, it wasn’t to exchange pleasantries.
“Sorry,” Kaelson told Chay, resting his hand on my guard’s shoulder a quick informal apology.“My lady, we’ve a small issue.”
We had a great many small issues.Most of them stemmed from much larger issues.If they only tied back to the plague, we’d have had it all sorted by now.People weren’t sick, and still nothing was as it had been.
I waved a hand at the chair beside me and he slid in with a half-swallowed groan.“I’m feeling every one of my years,” he said, with a wince.“Begging your pardon, my lady.”He didn’t wait for the apology he knew I’d give for the hours spent on his feet.“Sir Dwain had words with us today over the estates of several deceased families.I understand he’s taken a number of squires and servants into his home from the survivors.”
I set aside my spoon.Dwain was quite firmly on my list of people I’d love to make an example of, as he was both a selfish foolandnot especially close with my father.They were different kinds of cruel.
“I understand Sir Dwain is demanding to send a bird to the Duke,” Kaelson said formally.“He will not leave his estate and has barred the gates.”
That meant the problem was contained, at least, but those around Dwain were greater threats to me.That level of the city was a mix of lower nobility who had planned on wintering in the city, and exceptionally well-connected merchants, most of whom could buy and sell the nobility who shunned them.Of the people to make an example of, Dwain’s connections were to the steel trade.
