Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AUDREY
“If you lose your quarry’s track, remember it has not vanished.
Retrace your steps, retry your strategies.” ~ Matri’sion lesson
A t the top of the spire, my mother’s old room had been cleaned but left completely bare.
We sat, my first morning there in perhaps two decades. Just Isolde and I, breathing in unison, emptying our minds, sitting in the chill of early morning and sharing the quiet. Mayhap I should’ve felt some sort of connection with my mother, but it was just a big, empty room. I listened for her, but she wasn’t here.
Instead, it was Isolde’s breath I heard.
When my mentor stood, we trained. Stretching, strengthening, drilling hand-to-hand combat skills. We were silent, not out of need now, but out of long habit born of secrecy. She’d taught me to make my fighting stance my everyday stance, and I saw no need to break that now. Better to keep the habit of minimizing noise. It might be critical, one day.
By the time we went down for breakfast Chay had been replaced by Thomas. Isolde left to gather information, and I settled in with my books.
When Isolde returned, it was to tell me that Luca was gone. She knew more. I could see she did.
“What else?” I asked as she paced across the worn rug.
“Too much is happening,” she said, frowning. “We could get out in the darkness and get lost in the chaos.” The idea made terror rush through me like the cold winter wind, and I shuddered in on myself. “But waiting until your father is over the Brannough is a fair option.”
Before I could question further, a knock at the door interrupted us. Mortemon walked in with a crisp bow. “My lady, I’ve come to accompany you to care for your horse. I understand you usually do this later in the day, but it suits to do it now.”
It suits whom? But I smiled at him, hearing Chay come jangling up behind him. A lump formed in my throat at the sound of the knight’s belt loops and scabbard.
Everything about this was unnatural. The setting. The company. The way this was unfolding around us. It wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
I was accompanied to the stables not by just two, but three Blackguard. When I went to Storm’s stall, I saw Chay veer toward his horse, only to be stopped by Mortemon’s hard hand on his shoulder and a, “You have one job when you’re in the tabard.” Isolde lifted a brow.
Chay was being taught the ropes, and not, I noticed, by Thomas. It made sense because Thomas was new to the station, but it still seemed strange to see the man with more gray than brown in his hair deferring to the younger, whipcord-lean Mortemon.
Restless, I tried to focus on Storm, but didn’t get the pleasure I usually would from her company. I drew the weighted coins Luca had given me and rolled them around in my palm, but they didn’t change the feeling of too many eyes on me. I went from the stables to the library, not caring that I was covered in horse hair, and took out a pile of tomes on the South. All were written by Arcanloc scholars, of course. Anything else would have been censored or just burned. It was something, though, and it gave me a purpose while Isolde vanished to find out whatever it was she needed to know.
While I read the one-sided information about past uprisings and rolled the weighted coins in my fingers, all I could think of was the ferocity of the woman I’d fought.
They knew what they were up against. They knew the price. And yet they still tried.
I hoped, for their sakes, that their resourcefulness matched their courage.
When Chay came in that evening, he brought with him the smell of the autumn orchards and a small, folded note from Luca. He waved it at me, tossed it onto the chessboard, and walked out.
He’d seen me. I’d felt it in the orchard, but I hadn’t really trusted it. But in the city, when the world had been whirling, and my heart had been racing, he’d pressed the knife into my hand. And he’d seen me. Just for a moment. I was sure of it. He’d seen me the way no one else had, and still, he didn’t care about me. Not beyond his oath. He doesn’t have to.
No one had to give a single Wife-paling cuss about another person.
But, if I desired his care, was that so strange?
The letter held no real information except confirmation that Luca was thinking of me. How was I supposed to feel? How should I respond? The parchment in my hand felt flimsy, the indentation of Luca's pointless words light on its surface. The night we'd met, he'd had me stand on his feet to save me the humiliation of not knowing the dance steps, and the gratitude I'd felt hadn't faded in the decade that had passed. That was Luca. Kind, thoughtful. Willing to help me within the locways but not willing to challenge them.
The parchment balled in my hands. I didn't know what my future held, but I wasn't sitting around waiting for him to contact me.
"I want to roll," I told Isolde, standing, book falling from my lap. Impatiently, I picked up the book, setting it aside.
Her brows arched. "Let's roll, then."
It was that simple because she made it so, and I did, too. I went up the half-remembered steps of the tower that had been my mother's, anger simmering in my belly, in my bones, to combat the helplessness, that childish gratitude that Luca evoked.
He hadn't refused to dance. Hadn't pointed out it was unfair. No, he'd smiled and whispered about secrets we could share. And that was Luca. That was all I could expect from anyone. All I could hope for.
I tossed my skirts aside. They just got in the way. The woolen tights and the shirt held snug by the war belt at my waist were protection enough against the cold.
Isolde didn't ask why. Her feral smile was full of glee, shared challenge, and frustration. She offered me her empty hand, her bare feet perfectly balanced on the stone.
I tapped her hand. Fight, begin . And I didn't waste time circling, looking for openings. I launched myself at her, held that anger in check as I'd been taught. A power source, yes, but not a guide. My legs locked around her waist, and she held us both up, fighting to get one of my knees free. I locked my arms around her, and in response, she took me down, hard. The anger in my bones rattled and roared. I clamped down on it and on her when she tried to make some space. I took a chance and bridged, sending her tumbling. Before I could follow up and press the advantage my weight and height gave me, I felt her grab my foot and instead was forced to defend against her ankle lock.
We struggled together silently. Our limbs were pieces in a game, our joints and muscles and sinews the board, our sweat the reward. And when she caught me in a hold I couldn't avoid or break, I tapped, blowing hair from my eyes. "Again."
She obliged me. Some of the edges of my frustration eased during the next bout—by the time we'd finished the third we were sheened with sweat, and I was feeling in control. Luca would do what Luca would do. That didn't have to be my problem.
“What didn’t you tell me about Luca?” I asked her, breathless still, feeling the healthy drum of blood in my veins.
“He’s no longer betrothed to you,” she answered bluntly.
A spurt of terror went through me, but I ignored it. It was the wailing ghost of useless dreams. “Why?”
“He fled. The day of the melee. While you were being kidnapped.” She poured me a drink. “I suspect it’s coincidence, not deliberate. He isn’t that organized.”
I thought of his warm smile and gently encouraging hands. The way he’d lean in and murmur some interesting fact. The way he’d listen as I told him about the way the city’s layout had been modified, and he’d match it against the history of the time, and we could fit the puzzle pieces together.
“He’ll be a better friend than husband,” I said.
She grunted. “They nearly killed the ’Ban heir, too. In the melee. Sullivan dragged him from his saddle. The Duke’s blocking access to mages, so they’ve ridden out, too.”
My heart twisted like a weathered rope. I remembered the way Chay had walked in, face shuttered. How his disinterest had felt personal.
Well, at least I’d read that correctly, then.
Isolde passed me a drink, wiping sweat off her forehead with her inner wrist. “We need to make that guard of yours work.”
I paused, cup halfway to my mouth. “Right now? After his friend was almost killed?”
She held up a finger as she downed the whole cup in one breath, and I took the break in conversation as an opportunity to drink, too.
“He knows how to use the sword.” And with this statement, she tossed back her water.
I choked on mine, managing not to splutter all over her. She wasn’t really suggesting what I thought she was? “Yes. Yes, Chay does. Not a shield, though.”
Isolde nodded. “Thomas does, I’m sure. He was holding a spear the other day, and that’s a fine weapon to become proficient with, but you’ve a hunger for the sword.” She sniffed, topping off my water before setting the jug down on the bare stone floor, and I just watched, feeling like my head was stuffed with down. “He can’t squeal to your father. It’d breach his oath. We won’t let him teach you shieldwork, but his bladework and footwork is good.”
Considering how rarely I’d heard Isolde say anything complimentary about anyone , I worked hard to manage my dual feelings of shock and jealousy. “What, just take his sword and say, ‘Sir, how should I best use this to run my father through?’”
She frowned. “No need to tell him your plans. Just make it clear it’ll put your life in peril if he doesn’t teach you, which will trigger the Blood Oath, and off you go.”
Isolde vanished before I’d finished running those conversations through. How could I trigger the Blood Oath without telling the truth? How did I know if the Blood Oath was active? Would he know about it? Even if I could make everything work…was this sort of abuse of power how my father had started a slow decline into a monster?
Chay was no longer my enemy, if he’d ever been. When he’d walked forward to collect his winner’s medallion last night at the feast, my heart had damn near shattered for him.
His whole life was gone.
I heard the sound of him approaching, the jangle of his scabbard as it rubbed against his belt, the clink of his shield’s strap. As if summoned by my thoughts, he appeared in the doorway, and I started at this intrusion in what felt like the heart of our space. But Isolde was directly behind him, her face still flushed.
The ground vanished from beneath me as he met my eyes. There was no warmth there, not like there had been in the orchard when I’d held a knife to his throat. And I suddenly felt like I might just vomit up all the water I’d drunk.
“You need me?” he asked, the words hard as steel.
I hadn’t figured out what I was going to say yet, and even if I had, I doubted the thoughts would’ve survived the brutality in that question.
Did the ends justify the means?
“You had something to tell Chay, didn’t you, Audrey?” Isolde prompted, and I realized she hadn’t put her skirts back on.
He already knew she was Matri’sion. I’d been told to tell no one, ever, and yet here we were.
His chin lifted, his lips a hard line. The lump in his throat was still, and I didn’t know what that meant.
My father had almost killed the man Chay had called friend just a day ago. He was here because he’d tried to help me.
“Audrey needs to learn the sword,” Isolde said, the words brisk. “If she doesn’t, her life will be in danger.”
He was looking at me like a pile of horse shit in the middle of his path. “I suppose I’ll have to keep you alive.”
Isolde snorted, and I felt like I was about to fall through the cracks in the stones. “That’s not how this works. You have a student.”
“I’m no one’s mentor.”
I saw Isolde get in close behind him, her face turned to his ear. My eyes were on her feet, though, visible in the gap between his dusty boots. The patches she’d darned into the toes of her hose stood out as a different shade of gray. The arches of her feet were as graceful as the rest of her as her toes held all of her weight. She was stretching herself to her full height, and still her mouth only barely topped his shoulder.
“You were so full of yourself when you were telling me how to deal with your father’s man at the tourney,” he said, and the words were directed at me, not Isolde. “Why do you need me?”
All the reasons jumbled up in my head, and they didn’t make sense to me, either, because we were fleeing, weren’t we? When the majority of the army filed out to put down the rebellion? When it would take longer for whoever was left behind to come after me, because they’d first want to check with my father, halfway to the South?
I don’t need you, I wanted to say. But I didn’t know if that was true, and even if I’d been confident, the words were stuck in my gullet.
Suddenly, fleeing seemed like the best option.
“No,” he said flatly, shrugging Isolde away. “I’m charged with keeping you whole. Putting a sword in the hands of someone who can’t use it and expecting them to fight? That’s the opposite of my job.”
I couldn’t breathe. He turned away, and everything that held me frozen melted. My legs shook, and I had to prop my hands on my thighs to hold myself up as the room whirled around me.
Mayhap, I thought dimly, it was because so much was changing. So many hopes and dreams budding, only to wither before I saw the bloom.
“Tell him, Audrey,” Isolde said, her voice level. Only the impatient flick of her fingers gave away how agitated she was.
But I couldn’t. All the ideas and the things I could say were tangled up and there were tears in my throat that I hated. They were choking me.
I was okay with no one coming to my rescue. I understood no one wanted to challenge my father. I didn’t like it, but I could understand it.
But if I didn’t do it, no one would, and I’d live in hiding for the rest of my life.
There were worse things, of course. I knew it. And to live alongside women like Isolde would be another, different type of dream. But even as I reminded myself of these truths, it didn’t help the loss I felt at this brutal death to the hope I’d clung to for so long.
A cup of water was pushed into my hands. Isolde sat with me, our backs to the wall, and I tried to match her breathing.
He was gone.
“Tell me about your tribe,” I managed, eventually. “Who is your best friend?”
She propped her shoulder against mine. “Katarina. She’s the main blacksmith for my people. You’ll love her. She has a laugh that you feel to the soles of your feet.”
I tried to imagine a woman with such a big laugh and couldn’t. Would they like me? Would I be welcome? I’d have a job, surely, as a hunter or gardener. But would they give me a job in their social structure?
I didn’t want to go. I knew Isolde wanted to return, and it sounded so wonderful, but not for me. How much of that disconnect was the death throes of childish hopes of a happier tomorrow, and how much of it was the fear of the unknown, I couldn’t be sure.
I didn’t want to plot to kill my father. I didn’t want to flee.
I just wanted to have a normal, quiet life. To live.
The tears clogged up my nose, and I knew if I sniffed, Isolde would be on me, but I hated the feel of it.
If wishes were threads, I’d hold a fine tapestry.
“He’ll come around,” Isolde told me softly. “He’s taken the attack on his previous lord personally, I gather.”
It took me a moment to realize she was referring to Chay, not my father.
The Duke of La’Angi came around for nothing and no one.
I looked up, finding Isolde’s familiar face cut in lines of disapproval as she considered Chay’s loyalty to his previous liege lord. Unbidden, the memory of the Raider’s Ban heir pausing on the edge of the dancing and letting me just stand like a lump while I tried not to fall apart came to mind.
He’d told me he was my friend.
I still didn’t believe it, but I did believe he was Chay’s. And if someone had nearly killed Isolde, then their child asked me for a favor, I’d be less than receptive, too.
She nudged my cup at me. “Drink. You’ve sweated enough you need to replenish the moisture.” I drank obediently. “His horse survived,” Isolde told me, the words emotionless. “I understand they saved his leg, but that may be temporary. Still, he’s rich as the Son. He’ll be fine.”
My heart broke. “Were there fatalities?”
“Not to my knowledge.” She shrugged. “Chay’s angry, but he’ll learn you’re not your father’s daughter.”
Mayhap he would. Mayhap he wouldn’t. But I was glad, in that moment, I hadn’t forced him to yield again.