Chapter 28 #3
“I’ll give you a blade, if you like?” Tahira offers, gaze dropping to her body as she decides which to hand over.
“Thank you but keep them. They’re better use in your more experienced hand,” I say, clearing my throat.
“I’m sure Idris would give you a blade if you asked for one,” Tahira suggests, a light in her dark eyes. “He’d probably teach you to use it, if you asked. He’s a good teacher. He really helped us master the Merchant Tongue while we were in Malaya.”
I blanche at her words and instantly shake my head.
“No. Idris shouldn’t teach me. That would be…”
The whispers would be an unrelenting storm. The bond almost purrs deep in my chest, relishing the chance to get a blade in my hand anywhere close to Idris.
“Well, sounds like someone should,” Tahira says, laughing. Her shoulders jump up and down and it drags me away from the terrifyingly familiar urge hiding in my bones. I throw her a curious look.
“I mean,” she continues mirthfully, “the shoulder and the heart are two different places—”
“Idris told you about that?” I demand, mouth falling open in outrage.
“Told her about what?” asks Idris, galloping up behind us on his pretty white steed amidst a tidal wave of fated fire. An invisible swarm of bees starts to attack my throat and bite at my fingertips. I glare at him, bristling under Tahira’s mirth at my mistake.
“The night I saved your life when Nouis kicked your arse?” I snap back at him. “So I missed the heart – it was dark and there was blood everywhere and he fell into the dock in a matter of seconds, not to mention I had no Fate’s damned idea what I was doing!”
Idris rolls his eyes at me. He actually has the audacity to roll his eyes. He and Tahira have laughed about me behind my back, smirked at my ignorance in matters of murder. As though that is something I should be embarrassed I don’t have more experience with.
“Firstly, he didn’t kick my arse. He got lucky.
Secondly, Tahira asked how Rizaro lived when we all thought he was dead, so I filled her in.
That’s all. She’s also heard the original tale in its full glory, sewer and all,” Idris shoots back, irritating smirk twisting at his lips.
That arrogance sends biting bile clawing at my tongue and gums. I grind my teeth together and scowl at him.
“I was just saying that someone should give her some teaching. Never a better time for it really,” Tahira says over our bickering. “Have you ever had a lesson with a blade?”
My mouth goes dry and my gloves squeak quietly as I clench my fingers into a fist.
“Once,” I answer flatly.
“Great! Who taught you?” Tahira continues expectantly, not picking up my wish to leave this topic alone. I sigh, looking at my balled fists and stall before forcing the answer through my teeth.
“Nouis.”
I hate how his name catches as it leaves my tongue.
“Oh,” Tahira answers. I can practically hear her blinking as she takes that in. I let out a sharp breath, forcing my head higher as I gather my reins again.
“You never told me that,” Idris says quietly. “I thought Serra gave you that knife—”
“Does it matter?” I retort sharply, cutting him off before he can speak and dare say something that’ll crumple my already fraying nerves.
“Nouis’s feeble lesson was just another in his long list of manipulations, preying on my fear and isolation after killing the assassin he himself hired to hurt Giulia. ”
“Well, the bastard will meet his maker soon enough,” promises Tahira brightly. “Hopefully before the week is out, if we’re lucky.”
I laugh, her hopeful tone cracking through my sober thoughts like a whip.
“If we’re lucky,” I agree.
“Well, we’re making camp for the night, ladies, just around this hill,” Idris informs us.
“Excellent. I’ll let my guys know,” Tahira says. “See you in a bit.”
Tahira gallops off, leaving me with Idris once more. He watches her retreat, face falling and turning morose. He turns to look at me, raising a brow in silent question. Can we tell her?
I sigh and shake my head. Not now. The horses continue walking in silence, the rattling of a nearby cart creaking in our ears. My horse shakes his mane, and I pat his neck reassuringly as Idris slips into a walk next to me.
“We’re making good progress?” I ask. Idris nods.
“Yes. We’ll be at Semita this time tomorrow.”
I nod, swallowing.
“Scouts say all clear so far,” Idris continues. “The Church Militia are heading for the ford too. They should arrive there a few hours after us.”
“That’ll give us enough time to prepare what we need to?” I ask. Idris nods.
“Should do, if all goes to plan.”
“Good,” I answer, not sure what else to say. That vicious, aching feeling of uselessness creeps into my throat again, biting deeper than even the bond. I shake my head, clearing my throat. No, we’re camping. I can help with that. I can be useful.
“In which case,” I say brightly, “let’s get to the camp spot. No time to waste.”
“As you wish, Maestrus,” Idris says gallantly as we urge our horses forwards, to close the distance between us and the spot where we’ll be spending the night.