Rúsola pointed at the second glass with the little finger of the hand holding Sábria’s wine. “That’s yers. I don’t drink th’ stuff. Wine always tastes like goat piss to me.”

  “How would you know what a goat’s piss tastes like?” For whatever reason, Rúsola’s deep, throaty chuckle warmed Isobel, and she found herself smiling when she picked up her wineglass and followed the Prime down the hall. The smile lasted only as long as it took Rúsola to walk into the library.

  Sábria’s objections to the caneleid powder were strident and loud. When Rúsola slammed the door in Isobel’s face, Isobel sighed, set her glass on the hall table, and decided to go out on the front stoop to make sure none of the Blades on guard duty were close enough to hear their Arch Priestess sounding like an angry, petulant child. There were Blades stationed all around the townhouse and Isobel strode around the perimeter as though she was simply checking on the sentries.

  One of the Blades jumped down off the roof of the townhouse to the south and came to see what Isobel needed. “I’m Sela, My Lady. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, thank you. I wanted to give Lady Sábria some time alone with her old Prime.”

  “Yes, My Lady.” Sela, a black woman in her mid-thirties with the calluses and muscles of someone who does more swordwork than most, turned to go.

  “Sela?”

  The Blade turned. “My Lady?”

  “I wonder if you could pass a message to the Lead Guard of the detail that will be here in the morning?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s a bakery down the street.”

  “Mistress Oline’s shop. Her brother owns the bakery in Black Pan Alley.”

  Isobel produced two silver royins and handed them to her. “Please ask the Guardian to buy four pastries for us in the morning, two savory and two sweet.”

  Sela blinked down at what Isobel had put in her palm and then held out the coins, trying to give them back. “Two copper riels are more than enough for that, My Lady. You don’t need two silvers.”

  “I know. Buy some now for your people, and tell the next squad leader to buy some for her Blades, too.”

  Sela palmed one silver and tried to hand back the second. “This is still too much, My Lady.”

  “Give the extra to Mistress Oline. She did a kindness for Lady Sábria today, and I always reward that kind of loyalty.”

  A smile revealed a set of bright white teeth as Sela pocketed the money. “Understood, My Lady.”

  The sound of the front door closing caught Isobel’s attention. She hurried to the porch to find Rúsola descending the two steps to the ground.

  “She’ll sleep fer a few candlemarks.” She nodded at Sela, who’d followed Isobel to the front door to make sure there were no problems. “Sela.”

  Sela straightened, raised her chin, and looked Rúsola in the eye. “Prime.”

  Isobel recognized hero worship when she saw it. Sela’s eyes were alight with admiration and just a touch of awe, as though she couldn’t quite believe Rúsola had returned to the Temple.

  Rúsola clapped Sela on the shoulder and then turned to address Isobel. “I’m heading back to the Temple, Lady Isobel.”

  Sela motioned to Marzet, who’d been waiting across the cobblestone street.

  Marzet fell into step with the Prime, and the two warriors headed toward the docks on their way back to the Temple.

  CHAPTER 22

  Isobel walked into a quiet house. As had become her custom, she removed all her weapons and placed them carefully next to the door. The caneleid powder hadn’t had time to take effect, but there were no thumping sounds, no books being thrown, and no growling coming from any of the rooms. She stood still, unsure whether she should give Sábria her privacy or go in and check on her.

  A disembodied voice came from the library. “It’s okay, Isobel. I won’t bite or throw anything at you.”

  Isobel smiled and started down the hall, “I never said I minded the biting.” When she walked into the library, Sábria sat quietly on the sofa, holding a glass of wine. A second empty glass sat on the low table in front of the sofa. The bottle of wine sat next to it. Isobel stepped back into the hall to see if her glass was still on the table. It wasn’t. She returned and pointed to the glass Sábria held. “I believe that’s mine.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Picking up the empty glass, Isobel lifted the wine bottle to read the label. “Wagusir.” She blinked and scrunched up her nose. “Wagusir? What Kingdom do you think this came from?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s pretty good.” Sábria took a sip and then patted the cushion next to her.

  Isobel preferred the end of the sofa where she could snuggle up against a pillow and relax. She sat and pulled off her boots, lining them up precisely with each other and with the end of the sofa. There was very little room between Sábria and the place Isobel preferred, so, with the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, she stepped up onto the cushion and settled in so that her back was against the sofa’s padded arm and her legs were around Sábria’s waist. “Come on, then.” She held the glass and bottle up until Sábria turned and settled her back onto Isobel’s chest.

  “You know, you’ve come far from that first day we met. You wouldn’t even sit down as long as I was standing, and now, look at you.”

  Isobel lowered the glass, poured the wine almost to the top, and then topped off Sábria’s glass. “I still wouldn’t sit if there was anyone else here.”

  “I know. I think that’s why I’m so comfortable around you. You know when familiarity is appropriate and when formality is called for. Speaking of which, are you planning to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” As Sábria took the bottle from Isobel and set it on the table, she pulled in a big breath before yawning loudly. “Excuse me. That one crept up on me.”

  “Actually, I’m planning to get myself cozily sleepy so that when you drop off in my arms, I’ll be happy to sleep right along with you. In fact, I noticed some residue in the bottom of this glass, and I’m assuming the little caneleid powder that remained will be just enough to allow me to sleep through your snoring.”

  “I don’t snore.”

  “No, you don’t, but if you did,” Isobel tasted the wine, “Ooh, that’s good. I like the full-bodied taste that lingers a while. Anyway, if you did snore, I think there’s enough powder in here that I could sleep through it.”

  They quietly listened to the snapping of the fire in the fireplace. Sábria absently caressed Isobel’s arm. “I made a fool of myself again, didn’t I?”

  “No. You held it together pretty well.”

  “Except when I tore into Ailith. She was right. It was an innocent saying, and I blew it way out of proportion. I saw the way she and Terro were looking at me, as though I was some deranged⁠—”

  “Shhh. No, they were worried about you. We all know you’re off balance, and Ailith is the only one to say it to your face. I love that about her. No filters.” She chuckled, “I hate that about her, too. But I’ve traveled all over Dreyutha and found that some of the wisest people live in the Blacktip Mountains. She was young when she left, but she still managed to absorb that uncanny wisdom from them, from her people.”

  “Uncanny in comparing her Arch Priestess to a cow? That wisdom, you mean?”

  It was such a relief that the wine and powder had relaxed Sábria to the point where she could make fun of herself. The next time Sábria yawned, Isobel motioned for her to put her glass on the low table. “Your eyes are getting droopy. You should probably put that down before you spill it.”

  Sábria set the glass on the table and then curled up with her head against Isobel’s chest. “Isobel?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  Isobel caressed Sábria’s cheek with the back of her fingers. Before long, she heard the soft, even breathing that meant her friend had dropped into a relaxed and restful sleep. Isobel sipped her wine, staring into the fire and listening to it crackling as the flames glowed a gentle light yellow and orange.

  Since she couldn’t move to set a half-full glass down, when her eyes grew heavy, she drank what was left, reached over her head, and set it on the end table. She slowly pushed down into the cushions until her head rested on the pillow. Her eyes closed, and she fell asleep enjoying the gentle rise and fall of Sábria’s even breathing against her chest.

  They slept through the afternoon, but when the tower chimed five bells, Sábria sat bolt upright and then jumped to her feet intending to hurry into the front room to watch Ailith and Ty. When she tried to turn left out of the library, Isobel grabbed her hand. “Uh uh uh. We’re removing one layer of separation, remember?”

  When Sábria hesitated, Isobel led her up the stairs and into the game room. From there, she took her out onto the balcony overlooking the street. “Now remember. If Ty sees you, she’ll lower her head and stare at the ground. She might kneel, and she might look frightened. That has nothing to do with the fact that you’re her mother and everything to do with the fact that you hold a higher rank than anyone she’s ever met. If you think seeing her is hard on you, imagine what it’s like for her.”

  Sábria stared at the hill while her fingers played a staccato on the wooden railing. “Maybe they won’t come. Ailith might be too shaken from what happened this morning.”

  Isobel laughed out loud. “Are we talking about the same Ailith? Perhaps you’ve found another one I don’t know about?”

  “I was pretty horrible to her.”

  “You call that horrible? Someday, remind me to tell you some real horror stories of what happens to peasants in the Dreyuthan army. Seriously, Sábria, Ailith may not be used to seeing you that upset, but it pales to what she experienced from some of the officers she served under.”

  Sábria took her eyes off the hill and faced Isobel. “Didn’t Duke Ravenkind stop that kind of abuse?”

  “If he saw it, yes. But as you know, leaders can’t be everywhere all at once. It doesn’t take long for the bullies to learn to curtail their activities when their Duke is around, especially if he’s called them on it before. There they are.”

  Ailith and Ty jogged over the crest of the hill, chatting back and forth like the best of friends. Even though Ty was thirteen turns older than Ailith, they appeared comfortable in each other’s company. Ailith did a doubletake when she saw Isobel and Sábria leaning against the railing watching them, but she didn’t break stride until they were directly in front of the townhouse. She stopped, hiked a leg up on the low fence separating the street from the rocky beach, and began to stretch.

  Ty put her hands on her hips and walked forward a few steps, shaking out her legs and breathing in the cool ocean air. As she paced back and forth, she tilted her head up, enjoying the sun’s warm rays on her face.

  Sábria’s hand clenched on the rail, and Isobel covered it with her own, speaking softly so as to not disturb the moment. “It’s amazing how much she looks like you. Same body build, same beautiful hair,” she squeezed Sábria’s hand, “and, even though I can’t see them now, she has the same mesmerizing sapphire eyes. The difference I see is that yours shimmer with serenity until the tempest of fury is unleashed, while hers reflect a gentle and kind soul harboring a fierce potential that could ignite like a wildfire if given half the chance.”

  When Isobel saw the quizzical look Sábria turned on her, she picked up on her thoughts immediately. “Don’t forget. She and I spent close to three sevendays riding together on our way to Sarlogne. We obviously didn’t become friends, but I’m an excellent judge of character. I have to be as a traveling representative for King Prather. I don’t necessarily need to talk to someone to pick up on subtle cues, such as body language and facial expressions that allow me to gain insights into a person's character. She is your daughter, Sábria in more than just her looks.”

  Pulling her lips into a thin line, Sábria watched Ty. “It’s almost a cruel joke. I couldn’t deny she’s mine even if I wanted to.”

  “Do you want to?”

  They were both quiet while Sábria tried to put her feelings into words. “Seeing how much she looks like me drives home the feeling that I should have done more. It feels like a nail thrust into my heart because I should have known. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, it does. But it doesn’t answer my question. Do you want to deny that she’s your daughter?”

  The bitterness Sábria felt when Isobel had first brought Ty to the Temple crept into her words. “That’s no longer possible, is it?”

  “Sábria, when someone avoids answering a question, I find it’s important to understand why.” When Sábria scoffed, Isobel continued, “And yes, I’m going to play healer, at least in my own amateur way, because you need to face your fears and your feelings. So tell me, if you can. Do you want to deny she’s your daughter?”

  “It…” she looked up at the sky and blinked back tears. “It’s just the opposite, Isobel. When I see her, I hurt. My heart hurts because I already denied she was mine thirty-two turns ago. I want to go back and…not deny her.”

  Isobel’s brows pulled down while she considered what to say. She eventually smiled at her friend, who looked at her, wondering what Isobel found so amusing. Isobel looked down at the two women in the street. “Do you know what your young shiv would say to that? She’d say, ‘Ya can’t go back, Milady. Ya can only go forward, ya ken?’”

  The way Isobel perfectly mimicked Ailith put a smile on Sábria’s face, too.

  It was at that moment that Ty glanced over and saw them standing on the balcony. Her gaze met Sábria’s, and all color drained from her face.

  Ailith must have noticed her stiffening and turned to see what was happening. When Ty began to kneel, Ailith grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Ty was staring at the cobblestones now, and Ailith said something close to her ear.

  Ty immediately found Sábria again and bowed low. She did the same to Isobel and then lowered her gaze.

  Ailith bowed, too, and then grinned up at them. She casually slung her arm over Ty’s shoulders. “Afternoon, Milady. Lady Isobel. Beautiful day, aye?”

  Sábria hadn’t taken her eyes off Ty, and since it seemed like she hadn’t heard Ailith, Isobel answered for them. “It is. Are you doing the sprints up that hill on the other side of the city like I told you to? Or are you being lazy and jogging the entire way around?”

  “Ay, Milady. Me ‘n Ty race up and down it. She’s fast. Almost as fast as me, eh?” She squeezed Ty’s shoulders and spoke something to her friend.

  The broken cadence of a Dreyuthan peasant rose to where Isobel watched them, and although Ailith wasn’t talking loud enough that she could make out all the words, Isobel could tell Ailith was teasing Ty about beating her.

  Ty didn’t smile, though. She had what Isobel called the scared rabbit freeze that Dreyuthan slaves automatically fall into when around those of superior rank, which, truthfully, was just about everyone. Her shoulders were raised and stiff, her breath so shallow that it was impossible to see her chest rise and fall, and her eyes were glued to the ground. Isobel called down in Dreyuthan. “Look at the Arch Priestess, Lass.”

  Ty’s frightened eyes immediately locked onto Sábria.

  Isobel glanced at her friend. “Stop looking like you’ve seen a ghost. Smile or nod or something.”

  Sábria hadn’t realized she’d stopped breathing, but her chest hurt when she let out a lungful of air. She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry, decided that trying for a smile would most likely end in a grimace, and nodded once.

  Isobel called down in Dreyuthan. “So, Ailith tells us she always beats you in a race.”

  Ailith took her arm from around Ty’s shoulders and jabbed her in the arm. “Come on. I’ll race ya up th’ hill.” She turned and put one foot in front of the other to show she was ready to race.

  Ty’s gaze jerked away from Sábria and settled on Isobel, silently asking permission to race.

  Again, Isobel replied in Dreyuthan. “You don’t need my permission anymore, Lass. Go on, show us your speed. It’s always important to put the little scamp in her place.”

  Ailith stood up from her ready stance and mock glared at her old master. “Well, me’n th’ Arch Priestess will bet ya a copper that I win.”

  Sábria turned to Isobel. “Win what?” She’d been watching Ty so intently she hadn’t heard anything that had been said.

  “Ailith says she’ll beat Ty in a race up the hill, and the two of you will bet me a copper that she’ll win.”

  That finally brought a smile to Sábria’s face. “I’m sorry, Ailith, but I’m putting my money on Ty. If she wins, I’ll toss down a copper, and you take her to Mistress Oline’s bakery and buy her a sweet pie.”

  “And when I win?”

  Isobel pulled out a copper and slapped it down on the railing. “You’d better win because I’m changing my bet and putting my copper on you.”

  Ailith grinned again. “Okay then. See th’ signpost on one side and th’ hitchin’ post on th’ other?” She pointed up the hill. “That’s th’ line. She then translated for Ty what the bets were and where the end line was.

  Ty’s eyes widened, and she blinked up at Sábria, who finally managed to smile down on her daughter and nod. Granted, it was still a hesitant smile, but it was the best she could do for now.

  Ailith lined up again, and Ty, with one last glance at Isobel to make sure what she was doing was permitted, took her place next to her friend. Ailith began counting backward from three, and on one, they both took off at a sprint.

  During the time Ailith had ridden across Dreyutha with Isobel, there hadn’t been a day when Isobel hadn’t either run with her, raced against her, or watched her race other people. Ailith’s legs were powerful, and the only time Isobel had seen her bested was when one of Isobel’s friends had wagered Ailith couldn’t beat his best hunting hound over a twenty-four-furlong race through his woods. He even gave her an eight-furlong head start. The hound had won but had only caught up and passed her with two furlongs to go.