Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ISOLDE
“Make sure they’re down and out.” ~ La’Angi saying
S he danced with frantic energy. The bruises under her eyes were a stark contrast to the smile that didn’t leave her face. Though her tears had decreased at the same rate as the cider in her jug, she still bore the red, puffy marks of an extended crying session.
Audrey didn’t miss a step. But it had cost her.
Thomas appeared at my elbow, offering me a mulled cider. I hesitated, but took it. After so long craving heat, even with the plague lifted, I was still cold. It was, after all, winter.
“Celebrations are widespread,” he said from beside me. “We ought to get her back.”
I was less concerned with a drunken party than what came next. Because I had no idea what next could be. For all the joy and relief, Audrey had ranted for hours that afternoon about supplies, about how trade was dead, and we would all starve before the crops came in. She’d ranted about the missing Master Steward, and what aid her father might or might not send. She’d ranted about possible repercussions and what might happen with the number of the guard so dramatically drained.
Places where I’d laid too still for too long hurt like the blazes, but my mind spun like a well-oiled wheel. I sipped the warm, spiced cider.
“No one’s asking too many questions yet,” he said quietly. “But they will, once the initial gratitude wears off.”
I didn’t know who Thomas had been talking to, but I’d already heard extensive questions. And creative answers, too.
So long as she kept her mouth shut and let everyone else answer for her, no one ever needed to know what she’d done. They could all speculate ’til the goats came home, and it wouldn’t matter. And if we were staying put, we had time to dig in.
The thought made me feel grimly pleased as I watched the locals celebrate her, as I watched her point them toward Kaelson and Bernadette. She’d already spoken to a few people I recognized, people who’d taken on informal positions of power in pockets of the community.
I was all for saddling up her horse tonight. She wasn’t too drunk to ride. But we were staying.
We weren’t beaten, and she knew it.
Now was the time to throw off the shackles for good.