Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ISOLDE
Do you know your serving woman is one of the Nightingale’s best operatives? I’ve been made for sure. Want me to kill her on the way out, or should I just pretend I didn’t see her, and you can feed her some red herrings? —Daisy to Man in the Mountain
La’Angi Keep
Audrey’s expression was one of happiness, but there was something awkward about the angle of her smile. It dropped when she saw it was only me approaching. She stayed where she was leaning against the stone pillar of the walkway, looking down at the children playing jump-rope in the garden below.
Chay and Thomas both stood a respectful, useless distance back. I stepped past them, into the empty place beside her.
This close, I could feel the heaviness of her mood. Or mayhap I was just seeing the way her fingers danced over the fabric of her skirt, as if she was running through calculations subconsciously.
“Is Ettie well?” she asked.
“Of course Ettie’s well.” She’d known it would be a minor thing when she sent me to keep the peace between Ettie and the newcomers.
They had bad blood with someone’s husband after he’d taken a generous bribe only to not follow through with his part of the agreement.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t gut every dishonest guardsman.
Retraining them was more work than murdering them.
It was yet to be seen if retraining a replacement was simpler than retraining an old dog.
Once I knew, I’d consider sharing that information with my charge.
She hadn’t moved. The sun was setting as she continued to lean against the stone, watching the children play.
I didn’t think they were Thomas’ brood. I doubted she was imagining them being hers.
I glanced down again, trying to see what might’ve caught her eye, but such activity was a common occurrence.
While the children were asked to help throughout the day, they spent more time getting into mischief than making themselves useful.
Audrey was trialing the maximum workload rule, but it was for an older age group than the trio spinning a rope below.
“Those tailors seem good,” she said. “Really good.”
The women who’d approached Audrey as I’d been leaving popped into my mind: three young women, two sisters and a friend. “Did I hear one of them is a Stitcher?”
“You did.” Her fingers changed direction suddenly, from jotting sharp figures to writing fluid notes. “It’ll be a boon to have a fully-fledged Stitcher mage.”
The words were happy words, but her tone said problem.
Mages weren’t simple to host, pay, or manage, so I wasn’t surprised.
Whichever one of the trio had been the mage, they were all young, just looking to start their profession, and they’d come to La’Angi knowing our situation.
They’d traveled from Triple Peak, no less.
“Fiona wouldn’t have sent you an issue. Not without flagging it first.” I didn’t know much of Audrey’s aunt, but I’d seen enough to be sure of that.
Audrey didn’t respond. “They want to go into fashion.”
That was a problem for sure. “Why did they come here, then?” La’Angi was a lot of things, but fashionable wasn’t it.
“The tourney and festivities.”
“Ah.” Tailors with magical training, especially extensive, official training, were usually found working on bulk projects like uniforms. It was the only way they could justify their cost. “You’ve a storeroom of tabards and gambesons still, don’t you?”
“We’re a little low on the small gambesons—a lot of new recruits coming in. She’s topping it up. She’s offered a hybrid contract, working alongside her sister and friend.”
It wasn’t really a problem, then.
Though I didn’t say anything else, the quiet didn’t settle well between us.
As if I’d just waded through a busy stream, the noises kept rushing around.
Someone offering a friendly shout of greeting below, the steps of a passer-by, the chime of Chay’s frog as he shifted his weight, someone nearby sneezing.
The color was bleeding from the sky, leaving it a lackluster grey, much like the stone she was leaning against.
“Is something the matter?” I asked, directly.
“No.” She looked at me for the first time, revealing a frowning. “Nothing big.” But she sounded worried, so I gave her some time, and she expelled a sigh. “Why do I feel like I’m just waiting for something to go wrong, Isolde? And yet, nothing is.”
Plenty had gone wrong. She’d been ambushed a few weeks ago within the keep walls.
But there were other little, manageable things.
The hall she’d gone to meet Kaelson in had been repurposed earlier that day as a nursery, so they’d had to find another space.
She’d wanted to jump straight into practice, but he’d made her show him what she knew first, which had frustrated her.
Little day-to-day things were fine, but she was accustomed to watching for the next big upheaval.
Her father had taught her that nothing good lasted long, and the price would always come due.
Unfortunately, once you saw those patterns, unseeing them was hard. Because there was always another issue, and sometimes they were huge.
Down below, one of the children stumbled. They landed on their knees with an audible thump. No wail rose, but they didn’t jump up immediately to regain their place.
“Something will go wrong,” I assured her, wondering why that felt like a comforting phrase, not a warning. “And when it does, we’ll manage it. But you’re allowed to be happy between. You’re allowed to find joy in the progress, you know.”
“I know.” She watched as the child dusted themselves off while the other two scooped up the rope, deciding to call it a day. “I know I’m allowed to, but it feels…uncomfortable.”
I took an exaggerated breath, making sure she could hear it as I inhaled, then exhaled. She followed my example.
“Things will go wrong,” I told her again, because she knew it already, but didn’t understand the nuances. “They’ll go wrong whether you sit here worrying about it, regardless of elaborate and intelligent plans. They’ll go wrong whether you’re miserable or happy.”
She caught my gaze, and the sheen of tears in her eyes made the rage that slept in the bottom of my heart come alive with a snarl. I held it close.
One day, I wouldn’t.
The Butcher’s meaty neck would feel so good beneath my hands.
“Plans are good, and strategy is important.” Behind her, I noticed Thomas staring at me in reproach and resisted the urge to spit at him.
“So is joy and celebrating when things are going right. If people are looking for weapons to use, they’ll find them.
Balance strategy and tactics, Audrey. Let yourself be present. ”
She nodded, sniffing. “I know,” she said. “I know. It’s just…”
Happiness was dangerous. Because the next step of the cycle was coming.
She tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow and fell in step beside me. Her feet were heavier than usual against the stone, her body closer to mine than I was used to. The contact made the rage writhe inside of me, but I kept it leashed.
There were no new words I could offer her that would show her the importance of the concepts I’d attempted to communicate.
Tomorrow, we’d ride and she could bend her bow as she attuned to her horse.
I’d hold the lessons for another day. The horizon had looked clear. The weather would be good for it.
As we rounded a corner I spotted a hooded figure lurking in the shadows near her door. He’d snuffed the light.
Audrey stiffened beside me. Chay and Thomas stepped in front of her.
I recognized the cut of his boots, the shape of his shoulders, the ink-stains on his hands.
Rage had me by the throat as Luca lowered his hood, his big grey eyes so soft and sweet and full of secrets. It was too easy to trade the Butcher’s throat for his in my mind. His wouldn’t be meaty. He’d claw at me, his eyes bugging. He’d beg. He’d promise.
He’d lie.
Audrey pushed past Chay and Thomas, grabbing him by the arm to propel him toward her door. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Someone will see you!”