Her aunt—still a full-figured beautiful woman whose four children had not slowed her down one bit—nodded in approval. “I told Brahim just this morning that our cook is better than the ones up at that palace.”A snort of amusement from a level up, from the wood-screened window overlooboss the courtyard. Her uncle’s study. One of the few common rooms on the usually private second level. “Careful, Zahida, or the Carl may hear you and haul dear old Cook to his palace.”Her aunt rolled her eyes at the figure just barely visible through the ornate wood screen and looped her arm through Nasri ’s. “Snoop. Always eavesdropping on our conversations down here.”Her uncle chuckled but made no further comment.Nasri grinned, letting her aunt lead her toward the spacious interior of the home, past the curvy-bodied statue of Inna, Goddess of Peaceful Households and the Balruhni people, her arms upraised in welcome and defense. “Perhaps the palace’s inferior cook is why the royals are so skinny.”
Her uncle swore, earning a look from her aunt. But even her aunt rubbed at her chest before asboss , “We’d heard the rumors, but … You have now come to warn us?”Nasri nodded. “The attack lines up with the techniques of enemies in Eagles gang . If they are here, in this city, I fear it may be in connection to my arrival.”She had not dared tell her aunt and uncle too much. Not for lack of trust, but for fear of who might be listening. So they did not know of the Valg, or Erawan, or the keys.They knew of her quest to raise an army, for that was no secret, but … She did not risk telling them of Sartaq. That he and his rukhin might be the path toward winning support from the Carl , that his people might know something about the Valg that even they had not discovered in dealing with them. She did not even risk telling them she’d been on the prince’s ruk. Not that they’d really believe it. Well-off as her family might be, there was wealth, and then there was royalty.Her uncle said, “Wi
What she had admitted about her mother … She had only told Hadiza upon entering the Torre. No one else. She had told no one else, not since she’d staggered onto her mother’s cousin’s farm and begged for sanctuary and shelter.She wondered how long his own story had been locked in his chest.“Let me order food first,” Matilda decided. She glanced toward the wood screen shielding the bathing room from sight, then down at her blood-crusted chest and dress. “While we wait … I might beg to use your bath. And borrow a set of your clothes.”Leonard was still watching her with that focused, calm face. A different one from any she’d seen on him before. As if in shaving off some of that darkness, it had revealed this facet beneath.This man she had not yet met.She wasn’t sure what to do with it. With him.“Take whatever you want,” Leonard told her, his voice low—rough.Matilda was light-headed when she crawled off the bed, taboss his ruined shirt with her, and hurried for the bathing cha
Hassan put a hand on her chest, her manicured nails gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Kashin had no trouble with women until you came along. You two were once such close friends. Why shouldn’t I wish that my dear friend and brother form a deeper attachment?”“Because if you are appointed Carl , you might kill us if he doesn’t submit.”“Him, possibly, if he doesn’t bow. And if you prove to not be carrying his offspring, I might let you take the cleansing once my own line is established and keep your wealth.”Such bald casual words. Of such horrible methods meant to keep this wondrous, sweeping empire from fracturing. She wished Kashin were here to listen, to understand.Matilda asked, “And what would you do—for producing offspring?”With Renia as the possible future Grand Empress, Hassan would need to find some way to produce a blood heir.Hassan began pushing her figures around the map again. “I have already told my father, and it is no concern of yours.”Right. For if she had
Leonard kept moving his toes long after Matilda had left. He wriggled them inside his boots, not quite feeling them, but just enough to know they were moving.However Matilda had done it …He didn’t tell Nasri when she returned before dinner, no sign of the Valg to report. And he’d only quietly explained that he was maboss enough progress with Matilda that he’d like to put off tomorrow’s visit to her family until another day.She’d seemed a tad crestfallen, but had agreed, that cool mask slipping back over her face within a few blinks.He kissed her when she’d walked by to dress for dinner.He’d grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her down, and kissed her once.Brief—but thorough.She’d been surprised enough that by the time he’d pulled away, she hadn’t so much as laid a hand on him.“Get ready,” he told her, motioning to her room.With a backward glance at him, a half smile on her mouth, Nasri obeyed.Leonard stared after her for a few minutes, shifting his toes in his boots.
Shen said nothing, though Leonard knew every guard in this palace spoke an assortment of languages beyond Halha, only offering a nod of greeting. Which Leonard found himself returning before he silently mounted, his arms straining with the effort to haul himself upward. But he made it, perhaps easier than yesterday, earning what he could have sworn was a wink of approval from Shen before the guard sauntered back to his post.Shutting out what that did to his chest, Leonard buckled the straps on his brace and surveyed the chaotic courtyard and open gates beyond. The guards inspected every wagon, every piece of paper that confirmed a royal order had been placed for the goods they bore.Good. Regardless of whether he’d spoken to the Carl personally, at least someone had warned the guard to be careful—perhaps Kashin.The sun drifted higher, raising the heat with it. Still Matilda did not come.A clock chimed deep in the palace. An hour late.The mare turned skittish, impatient benea
With most of the city down by the docks for the sunrise ceremony to honor Tehome, the streets were quiet. Leonard supposed only the sickest would be bedbound today, which was why, when they approached a slender house on a sunny, dusty street, he wasn’t at all surprised to be greeted by violent coughing before they’d even reached the door.Well, before Matilda had even reached the door. Without the chair, he’d remain atop the horse, but Matilda didn’t so much as comment on it as she dismounted, tied her mare to the hitching post down the street, and strode for the house. He kept shifting his toes every so often—as much as he could manage within the boots. The movement alone, he knew, was a gift, but it required more concentration than he’d expected; more energy, too.Leonard was still flexing them when an elderly woman opened the house door, sighing to see Matilda and speaboss in very slow Halha. For Matilda to understand, apparently, because the healer replied in the language a
He’d never seen a face so lovely.Not as Matilda dismounted and took the chubby baby—the portrait of newborn health—from the mother’s outstretched arms. “Oh, she’s beautiful,” she cooed, brushing a finger over a round cheek.The mother beamed. “Fat as a dirt-grub.” She spoke in Leonard ’s own tongue,either because Matilda used it with her, or from noticing his own features, so different from the various norms here in Antica. “Hungry as a pig, too.”Matilda bobbed and swayed with the baby, cooing at the girl. “The feeding is going well?”“She’d be on my breast day and night if I let her,” the mother groused, not at all embarrassed to be discussing such things with him present.Matilda chuckled, her smile growing as she let a tiny hand wrap around her finger. “She looks healthy as can be,” she observed. Then looked over the mother. “And you?”“I’ve been following the regimen you gave me—the baths helped.” “No bleeding?”A shake of the head. Then she seemed to notice him, because sh