Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
The bed is empty when I awake.
This is getting to be an infuriating habit of his.
I know Idris isn’t there, but I reach behind me anyway in the vain hope that absence of abrasive thoughts and feelings is merely a temporary reprieve.
Sitting up in the bed, the cool silk is a fresh kiss against my naked body.
I look around the empty room, hoping he’s just in the bathroom, but the open door dispels that idea far too quickly.
An odd noise leaks through the window, setting goosebumps dancing over my arms. I pull the sheets tight to my body as I cross slowly over to the window, wincing at the surprisingly painful blisters on my feet.
I push back the thick sapphire-coloured curtains and peer down.
A smile cracks over my face at the heartwarming scene.
Idris stands with Kaz on the lawn, sparring slowly as Kaz learns to wield his blade. My eyebrows shoot up as Kaz moves slowly and smoothly, perfecting his technique without rushing. Even at his young age, he’s better with a weapon than I could ever hope to be.
Royah and Tahira sit to the side, carefully watching their progress.
I turn back and head to the bathroom. There is a shallow basin of water waiting for me already, but how I slept through that I have no idea. A set of clothes is folded next to it – my clothes. I left them behind after one of my previous stays.
I wash and dress as quickly as I can, thankful to slip into my pumpkin-coloured tunic. I pin the elbow-length sleeves into place and clip in place the silver beaded belt with several dangling, looping decorations fashioned to mimic falling leaves.
I leave Idris’s rooms and make my way down the stairs.
Cold needles spring across my arms and my breath turns sticky and humid as I walk towards the back of the house.
My throat itches and my fingers sting as I open the glass door from the orangery onto the great stone patio.
The cool breeze flutters across the bridge of my nose and one of the dark waves that’s too short to tuck into my low ponytail snakes its way across my cheek.
Alfieri and Emilia have now joined this early morning swordsmanship lesson, but sit with fingers linked at the table, nursing welcome cups of coffee. Royah and Tahira have walked down the steps to the grass and are keeping an eye on the fight.
“Move your feet Kaz, your feet!” Royah shouts at the young prince whose face is the utter definition of concentration. Kaz drops his head to look at his feet, and Idris dives forwards to knock the blade away and press the flat of his dulled sword to his belly.
“Never look away,” Idris, Tahira and Royah all chorus in tandem.
“That’s a little harsh. She distracted him.” Emilia tuts before sipping on her coffee.
“That’s a lesson you don’t want to learn the wrong way,” Alfieri answers, lifting their joined hands to kiss her fingers.
“Not joining in, Alfieri?” I ask as I drag out a free chair and help myself to a mug of coffee.
“Nah, I’ll let Idris show up the kid today,” says Alfieri. “Besides, after our midnight entrance, I’ve filled my quota of heroics for a while yet.”
“Speaking of rides”—Emilia turns her wicked grin at me—“how are you feeling this morning?”
I throw her a withering look as I add plenty of milk to my coffee and lean back.
“I feel great, Emilia, why do you ask?” I ask pointedly, grinning back at her. “Want details about my hour-long ride with your boyfriend?”
Alfieri chokes on his coffee and Emilia sniggers into her hand.
“Seriously, though, you spent all night with Idris. It can’t have been restful, given you’re Soulhates and all,” Emilia says. Alfieri drops his head to his hands at that as I smirk into my coffee.
“Restless is one way to describe it,” I say evasively. Alfieri throws Emilia a look that practically begs her to stop. She lets sleeping dogs lie but we share a mischievous grin. Our attention is captured elsewhere when Kaz yells, wielding his sword high as he batters Idris’s side.
“Yes! Nice jab, Kaz!” claps Tahira.
“Oh they’re at it again, I see,” comes Michelle’s voice from behind, half yawning through her words. I turn to see her and my sister. Giulia’s shoulders drop and a happy smile fills her face as she approaches.
“Morning,” she says, squeezing my shoulders.
“Morning. Coffee?” I offer the large pot her way.
“Yes please.” Michelle almost begs as Giulia frowns at me.
“Your hair is a mess.” Giulia sighs. “Let me fix it.”
“Please, I can’t wrangle it today,” I say gratefully as Giulia starts work on my head.
“Okay, I’ve decided on a new colour for the dresses,” Michelle says. “Not dusty rose, but more of a deep, smoky mulberry.”
“Sounds great,” Emilia says instantly.
“I love it,” I agree, twisting my head up to look at her. “And I can attest to how durable the dresses are from that shop. We should go there again.”
“You think she’s doing too much?” Giulia asks, jutting her chin towards Royah whose hand has drifted to her middle, like she’s holding herself together as she barks instructions at Kaz from the sidelines.
“I’ll get her to sit down,” Michelle says.
“Good luck,” says Emilia with a snort.
“Okay, there you go,” Giulia says, pulling a pin from her head and setting it in my hair for me. “Much better.”
“I’ll go with you, Michelle,” I say, hopping up. “Take my seat, Giu. Thanks for the hair.”
“No worries.” She beams as she takes my place. I walk with Michelle towards the top of the stairs, catching her elbow and stepping closer.
“Michelle,” I say, lowering my voice, “how bad is Royah’s injury? I don’t want to interfere or pry but—”
Michelle brushes her coiling brown hair away from her face and lifts her shoulders, eyes drifting to her Soulmate with worry.
“Bad.” Michelle sighs, her breath uneven and a little rough. “There was so much blood. I watched as that sword went into her middle. I thought she was going to die – that maybe we all were.”
“What happened?”
“Giulia,” Michelle answers like she still can’t believe it. “She picked up a sword from one of the fallen kidnappers and swung it into that guy’s neck. Dropped him like a stone. We managed to carry Royah back to safety.”
I close my eyes as my stomach churns.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. But I was terrified,” Michelle admits, biting her lip.
“I mean, watching the doctors flurrying around her reminded me of Giulia after the explosion. Seeing her bleeding all over her bed … I was sure I was going to lose her. How could I be so lucky another time? It was like I could feel an entire piece of my soul slipping away. Like the tether to my sanity was fraying before my eyes.”
“Losing a Fated is … excruciating,” I agree. Michelle blinks, dark eyes meeting mine.
“You get it,” she says, almost relieved. “I don’t know how to explain it to Giulia, how to explain it without it sounding so…”
Michelle trails off and frustration flitters across her face.
“Intimate. I know what you mean,” I answer.
“The difference is that you and Idris are in fact very intimate,” Michelle teases. “Royah and I are more like long-lost sisters.”
“Intimacy doesn’t have to be sexual or romantic. Giulia would understand that more than you know,” I tell Michelle. Michelle considers that for a moment.
We reach the top of the stairs and look down.
My entire gaze is captured by Idris. Early morning sunshine bounces off his ruffled blond hair and I notice how well his plain white training shirt and black trousers fit him.
Blood rushes to my face, shouting in my ears as my fingers curl into hot fists at my sides.
I clamp down my jaw against the needling across my tongue.
“Morning!” shouts Michelle at the group. Three heads turn in our direction. One doesn’t. Kaz leaps forwards but slightly misjudges his attack. The flat of his blade strikes Idris straight in the groin.
Idris buckles forwards, the air torn from his lungs. The barks of smothered laughter filter through the air. The bond in me is smugly satisfied seeing him winded like that.
“Never look away, Patricelli,” I call down to Idris as he rights himself, throwing Kaz a wry look and covering his discomfort with bemusement.
“Why is it always you distracting me?” Idris answers with a wicked grin. His attention is like a razor against my throat.
“You really should know better by now. Good thing Kaz can remind you, hmm?” I retort, folding my arms as I fight to keep a tight leash on the violence singing in my palms. Kaz beams with pride. Michelle snorts, turning her face away to hide her smile.
“Come on, Patricelli, we have work to do.” I beckon them to come join us on the patio. “Kaz can finish your lesson later. We have a war to plan.”
It takes a few minutes for everyone to drift inside towards the breakfast table.
Emilia drew the short straw of having to raise Serra from her bed, so she too now sits sleepy, grumpy and yawning in one of Idris’s chairs.
People tuck into their food, laughing and talking.
Idris sits next to me, his hand trailing across the back of my shoulders, like barbed wire.
I throw him daggers and make sure to brush my hand down his arm as I reach for the toast, earning a playful glare from him as I sit back in my seat.
I tell them the detailed version of my unwelcome time away.
I answer their questions. Idris practically turns into a statue with the first mention of Nouis.
He grips the arms of his chair so tightly I think they might splinter when I mention the extremely unwelcome kiss. Giulia swears under breath at that bit.
I continue on swiftly, detailing what I saw in the camp, answering Tahira, Royah and Idris with as much detail as I can muster from my memory.
That damn Red Root makes things a bit hazy but apparently what I can remember seems useful.
When I mention seeing Bash and Lysa, Tahira and Royah look like they want to commit a murder right here and now. Guilt crawls up my throat.
I detail the conversation with the Holy Mother, how she was played by Nouis. Then her murder. The entire table is silent as I go on to describe the escape and how I ended up back home.
“And that’s it,” I say, with a deep breath. “Now, someone pass me the coffee.”
“She’s dead. She’s really dead?” asks Giulia, picking up the coffee pot and handing it to Idris, who silently pours me a cup. His jaw is clamped tightly shut.
“We only have days before he attacks. And he will now, make no doubt about it,” I say as I pick up my drink, flashing Idris a tight smile. His breathing is short and shallow; each movement of his chest seems a fight.
I sit back in my chair and lean away from him.
Perhaps the slightly increased distance will help the bond.
Instead, his hand drops off the table and lands on my knee, unseen by anyone else as Tahira starts talking about getting things moving to the ford.
His fingers tightly grip my knee, sowing the seeds for blisters across the skin as it surges with searing embers.
I don’t move it, realising he actually needs the bond to ground himself right now.
“Well, the new tracked wheels should make moving heavier supplies much easier,” says Emilia. “We could be set up by the ford in four days maximum with that.”
“We’ll start preparations immediately,” says Giulia.
“Emilia, can you coordinate with Leone about food and medical supplies? Serra, can you start getting things loaded and ready? Idris and Alfieri can work with Savino on getting the forces themselves mobile. Tahira and Royah, can you get your troops on the move this quickly?”
“Easy,” Tahira answers with a nod. “We should talk formations too. I want to form an advanced party to survey the land.”
“That makes sense,” I say with a nod. “But you need to talk with Savino and—”
The door to the breakfast room opens and in walks one of Idris’s servants with a letter in his hand.
“For the Maestrus, signora,” he says quietly and holds it out for me. I take it and look at the wax seal. It’s the seal of the Holy Mother.
“She’s dead,” I say, showing it to Idris. “They can’t have elected a new Holy Patron already.” Idris narrows his eyes.
“Nouis?” he offers gruffly.
“The seal is from the office, and if there is no Holy Patron right now, the majority of cardinals must’ve agreed to send this letter officially,” Giulia points out with a quiet voice.
“What do they want?” Serra says, scowling into her coffee. “To gloat?”
I crack open the seal and scan the letter, my eyebrows rising with each word.
“It’s from the delegate the Holy Mother dispatched before her death,” I say. “He’s arriving today.”
“Does he know…?” Emilia trails off, but the remainder of her question is obvious. I shrug.
“We can turn him away,” says Idris, holding his hand out for the letter. I hand it over so he can read it for himself.
“No. Let him come. I have a message he can take back to Nouis for us, and whatever cardinals are under his thrall,” I say, tapping the arm of my chair.
“What kind of message?” asks Giulia. I meet the eyes that are a twin of my own and smile.
“The kind that goes down in history.”
“And I know how to make sure it does,” says Michelle. The whole table goes quiet and turns to look at her as she smirks, taking a bite of her breakfast.
“Care to elaborate?” ventures Royah, amused. Michelle grins as she swallows her breakfast, turning her eyes to me.
“You’ll see.”
Well that sounds ominous.