Sounds crawled up my spine.
Sounds that weren’t from the world outside my window.
The crunch of stone.
The hiss of steam.
A keening howl.
Fervor, Jezelia, fervor.
My heart sped. I felt the Komizar’s breath on my neck, his finger tracing the kavah on my shoulder. I saw his onyx eyes in the darkness and the smile behind them.
“Shall I walk with you?”
I jumped and whirled.
Aunt Cloris poked her head into my chamber, her question a reminder not to be late.
I smiled, trying to mask my alarm. While my aunt had tolerated the complete lack of protocol on every level with surprising grace, I saw the signs of her impatience returning. She wanted things to go back to the way they were before. I couldn’t promise that but I could
give her tonight.
“I’ll be along,” I said. She left as quietly as she came, and I shut the window, returning to my dressing table. With only one hand, there would be no fancy braids tonight—not that I was ever particularly skilled at braids even with two hands. But I had become skilled at using a sword and knife with either one.
When the physician checked and rebandaged my hand today, I got a good look at it for the first time. The wound itself, except for the three small stitches on either side, was barely visible but my hand was still swollen. It looked like a blue-veined glove stuffed with fat sausages and felt just as foreign and numb. Something inside had cracked or torn—probably when I shoved the bolt loose to kill Malich. The physician was dismayed by the continued swelling and said it was essential that I keep it elevated on pillows at night and he crafted a sling for me to wear by day. When I asked about the numbness, he only said, “We’ll see.”
I set aside my brush and looked in my mirror. My hair trailed loosely over my shoulders. On the outside I mostly looked as I had before, perhaps a little gaunt, but on the inside, nothing was the same. It would never be the same again.
He’s betrothed.
The thought came unexpectedly, like a sudden gust of wind. A mountain of demands had blocked it out, but now a single unhurried moment had let it back in.
I jumped up from my dressing table, adjusting my belt, my sling, sheathing my knife at my side, learning to do with one hand what I had always done with two.
* * *
The family dining chamber was for smaller more intimate meals, but tonight there would be sixteen of us. I would have just sipped some broth in my room and fallen into bed, as I had previous nights, or eaten through our late-night meetings, but my mother had come to me herself and suggested it, and she hadn’t left her room in days. I thought about my doubt in the days after Aster had died and how Rafe had told me I needed to regroup and move forward. It seemed like that was what she was trying to do now.
My aunts chimed in, saying that in the frenzy of activity over the last few days, they’d met everyone only in frantic passing moments. They said we had a long fight ahead of us and a shared meal would give us a chance to knit tighter together. I couldn’t argue with that.
Berdi and I were the first to arrive in the dining room, and when she hugged me, I got a warm whiff of fresh bread and saw a dusting of flour on her cheek. “Have you been in the kitchen?”
She winked. “I may have stopped in. Your mother asked, and I was happy to oblige.” I was about to ask her what she had been doing there when Gwyneth and Natiya walked in behind us. Natiya’s gaze immediately rose to the high ceiling and then she surveyed the tapestry-covered walls. I remembered the first time I had ever dined with Natiya. She’d met my gluttony with wide-eyed innocence and questions. Now she observed quietly with the eye of a cat in the bushes, ready to leap, not unlike the rest of us. We all wore weapons to the table, which in the past would have been forbidden by protocol. Tonight no one would object, not even Aunt Cloris.
We settled at one end of the table.
My mother and aunts, and Pauline’s aunt, Lady Adele, came in next. My mother’s hair was combed and braided, her dress neatly pressed, and the fire in her that had been buried these past days had surfaced again. I saw it in her eyes, her level shoulders, and high chin—the traitors would not win. I was surprised to see her chatting with Berdi like they were old friends.
Orrin, Tavish, Jeb, and Kaden strolled in together, all of them looking slightly uncomfortable, but my mother greeted them warmly and directed them to seats, and I realized how little all of them really knew everyone else, though we had been here for days. We did need to knit together. A shared meal was for more than nourishing bodies. Servants began filling goblets with ale and wine. Though my mother had promised to keep the fare simple, the sparkling cherry muscat was the exception.
“Where’s Pauline?” I asked Gwyneth.
Lady Adele heard my question and perked up, waiting for an answer too. I knew that after their clash on our first night here, Pauline had avoided her. That was why she stayed at the abbey with the baby. Today she had moved back.
“She had to go to the abbey to pick something up,” Gwyneth answered. Of course, we both knew what that something was. “She’ll be here soon,” she added, but when Lady Adele looked away, Gwyneth shrugged as if she too, was uncertain what was delaying Pauline, or if she would come at all.
Sven walked in with Captain Azia, and I was surprised to see them both dressed in officer’s uniforms. Captain Azia blushed at the fawning of my aunts, and I realized how young he truly was. He and Sven quickly became engaged in conversation with them and Lady Adele. I wondered what had happened to Rafe. I sipped my muscat and then I heard his footsteps. I knew them as well as my own, the weight, the pace, the slight jingle of his scabbard. He hurried in and paused in the doorway, his hair slightly windblown, dressed in his Dalbretch blues too. My stomach squeezed against my will. He apologized for being late—he’d been stuck in talks with some of his men. He greeted my mother with additional apologies, then turned to me. He noticed my sling.