Bat wings fluttered over the bright morning.Bashir. The cell.Part of me is still there. Part of me will never escape.
* * *
We walked into town to have lunch with Lorcan’s mother. I was inexplicably nervous about the excursion. I don’t want to lie to the nice woman who brought us the bread we ate with butter and jam on the patio behind his cottage. Yet here I am, acting as though I intend to marry her son.
“You and Lorcan have a busy summer ahead.” Rya’s eyes are exactly like Lorcan’s—blue that appears to shift from wintry ice chips to cerulean, depending on the light, yielding no hint of emotion. “If the rumors flying around have any truth to them.”
I delicately took a slice of bread and began tearing it into tiny pieces. Lorcan captured my hands to stop me.
I asked for this pretense. It was my idea. I cannot afford to be unnerved now.
“The rumors are true,” he lied easily.
“Which ones?” I blurted out, freeing my hand. “Forgive me; people usually refrain from gossiping about me in my presence. I don’t know what is being said.”
“That there will be a wedding alongside your coronation ceremony,” Rya replied evenly. I know she caught the bread exchange a moment ago. Nothing gets past this woman. Lorcan gets his talent for observation from her. I’m fidgeting and avoiding eye contact—not exactly subtle, either.
Come on, Zosia, you know how to keep yourself in check.
Ever since that last night in Covari Village, when I lost control of myself, I haven’t quite been able to get it back again. This holiday is exactly what I needed to try and get my head on straight before I make another attempt to lead my country out of crisis.
If such a thing is possible. Fear of failing yet again might keep me pinned here indefinitely.
“We’ll make an announcement when it’s time,” Lorcan lied smoothly. “Zosia is still recovering from a lengthy ordeal. As I know you can see, Mum.”
The hilarity of my assassin knight trying to fool his own mother was almost more than I could bear. I ducked my chin to hide a smile.
“Another subject of wild rumors.” Rya propped her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table. “Were you really in the castle alone for an entire year?”
I glanced at Lorcan. “More or less.” I don’t want to discuss Bashir. I changed the subject. “I understand you were a cook there at one point?”
“While his father was in service to your mother, the late Queen.” Rya nods. “Fantastic kitchens. It was quite an operation, keeping the castle residents fed.”
She clearly relished the challenge.
“Destroyed, unfortunately. The roof caved in with the late snowfall last winter. The Sentinels shot out a supporting wall. Once it collapsed, the food stores were ruined with dirt and mold. It was a near thing for me when Lorcan finally showed up.” I smiled and gestured vaguely to my body. “I’m supposed to be resting. Yet there’s so much to be done. I could work twenty-four hours a day and hardly make a dent in it all.”
“Which is why you’re not working any more than strictly necessary,” Lorcan interjected. “Limited physical exercise, as much food as possible, and rest. Rebuilding will wait.” He folded his forearms flat on the table. Wiry muscle and tanned, scarred skin covered with a light dusting of hair. “Fortunately, Tenáho is the least exciting place in all of Auralia. The perfect place to rest and recover.”
Rya scoffed.
“How would you know? You never spend any time here,” she asked. To me: “My son, as I am sure you’re aware, spent a few months in this town before running off to seek his fortune. I nearly had a heart attack when I found him missing. Sent out search parties to look for him. Thought he’d been eaten by a wolf-bear or a maned tiger.” Pinning Lorcan with a glare, she added, “The population of which are out of control after feasting on all the lost sheep and escaped horses from last year. The city is on me to do something. As if I can go out and kill wild beasts.”
She raised one eyebrow and looked expectantly at Lorcan. He smirked.
“So, this is my problem now?”
“Why is the city asking you to take action?” I asked, bewildered.
“I am the city manager,” said Rya.
“Ah.”
City managers are typically elected officials who oversee the day-to-day administrative functions of a village. Need to apply for a permit, record the sale of a property, or pay your tax bill? The city manager’s office is where you’ll go. It’s a testament to her competence that Tenáho is peaceful and prosperous after a year of war. It helps that the town is located in a remote part of the country with no strategic military value—to the northwest is Mount Astra, and to the east and south are sheer rock cliffs facing the sea.
The city manager’s office is also where you go to file a complaint about public nuisances. Such as your sheep being attacked by maned tigers.
“It’s a pity about your mentor,” Rya said softly, reaching across the table to pat Lorcan’s arm. “She was a good woman.” To me, “You knew her?”
