The Unbroken by C. Clark (ebook reader .txt) 📕

asleep in the palace gardens so there would be trees when I woke up.” Luca’s smile slid sideways. “No, now that I think about it—my father was so angry at me, and I don’t even know why. It was my mother, I think—when I fell asleep that night, she tucked an apple in my bed.”

They talked through the entire pot of tea, about stories and their youths, though Touraine kept only to innocent misadventures and Luca avoided further mention of her parents. The pot was down to the dregs when Luca drained her cup and then peered somberly over the rim at her.

“Is Captain Rogan one of the Balladairans from your old compound, then?”

“Aye.”

“Has he always been like… that?” Luca waved thin fingers in the direction of the dance floor, which was a sitting room again.

“You mean a rapey son of a bearfucker? Yeah.” Darkness crowded back into Touraine’s thoughts.

Luca’s face went open in alarm. “He—”

“Tried to.”

The memory of that night closed hard around her. She’d been on her way to visit Pruett’s bunk for a night’s tryst.

There were things she still remembered when she didn’t want to. The sound of boots behind her in the dark. The feel of a brick wall, cold through the back of her shirt, the fabric snagging. Pruett and the Sands who’d saved her, screaming at the whipping post.

Luca’s mouth went into a thin line. She looked down at her lap, one hand playing with the bedclothes, the other still around her empty teacup. “I’m sorry I invited him. He’s a captain and represents an important house. If I had realized the full extent of his behavior, I would have happily snubbed him. I apologize for putting you in that position.”

“Thank you for standing for me.” Touraine tilted her head.

“If I could, I’d have him killed.” The princess spoke it as a matter of fact, and it was more frightening for it. It wouldn’t take much effort at all, Touraine supposed. A word to Guérin or Lanquette or Gil—and Luca would be held blameless. Touraine wondered what mistakes she would have to make to turn Luca’s whim against her.

Luca continued to muse, “It might be difficult if he’s one of Cantic’s favorites. She doesn’t like to believe ill of her favorites.” She gave Touraine an arch look with her lips pursed.

And then she was Luca the woman again, gazing away at her window, where they could see the black of night turning into deep blue. “Sky above, it’s late. Early. Sleep in tomorrow. Rest. Don’t think about that bastard. You’re safe with me.” She punctuated her words with a yawn.

Touraine’s own jaws cracked in echo as she stretched. “Thank you.”

Before Touraine made it to the door, Luca called her back. “And—I spoke to you as a friend tonight. Don’t betray that trust. Please. I’ll do the same.”

Lines of uncertainty shot across the princess’s forehead, her eyes just a little frightened.

Touraine ducked her head. “Of course.”

She left lighter in her step. Whatever she’d done to make the princess so angry, she had corrected it, that was certain. But Luca’s affections were just another edge to walk.

CHAPTER 14THE BOOKSELLER

Break fast with me.” Princess Luca pointed to the table with a long, just barely ink-stained finger. The late night showed in the hollows of her eyes, but she smiled warmly. Over a breakfast of a crusty baguette and soft eggs flavored with pepper and herbs and tart, soft cheese, Touraine got her first mission.

Touraine wanted to love the food. When Adile brought in two small cups on a tray and poured the coffee, it smelled like fresh earth, churned by boots on the march. She was breaking fast at a princess’s table. She also wanted to love the idea of her new clothing from the modiste’s. Her narrow victory over Rogan still felt unreal.

It should have been easy to be grateful, especially after their conversation last night.

It should have been easy to answer the princess’s questions. Easy to show an interest.

This morning, though, Touraine had woken up uneasy.

Yes, deep, deep down, Touraine was curious. She wanted to know what Princess Luca wanted and how she thought. But the truth was it didn’t matter what the princess thought, because Touraine would obey anyway. Tibeau was right. She was their pet. And she’d be a well-dressed one, but she’d dance all the same.

Touraine mimicked the princess’s small bites instead of scooping the eggs with a fork and bread like she would’ve with her squad. Her mouth was full when the princess set her knife and fork down and wiped her lips delicately with her napkin.

Today, the princess wore a deep-green coat open over a cream shirt and brown trousers. Green vines twined up the coat. Her blond hair was pulled back, and her spectacles perched on a lightly freckled nose. She radiated control.

“Today,” she said, “I need you to go down to the Puddle District, near the docks.”

Touraine swallowed and put her own knife and fork in the same position, on her own plate. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“There should be a bookstore run by a Qazāli. I’m looking for a book called The Last Emperor by Yeshuf bn Zahel.”

“Yeshuf bn Zahel.” Touraine repeated the name to get the feel for the syllables. They felt awkward and familiar at the same time, like picking up a toy you outgrew years ago.

“I’ll write it down for you. You’re done already? Would you like some more?” She nodded to Touraine’s empty coffee cup.

Luca tended to ramble. Still, she had a sharp eye.

“Yes, please.” The taste was growing on Touraine, like a callus.

Instead of the coffee, Adile returned with a package, smiling at Touraine. “Your new clothes, it feels like.”

Princess Luca gestured for her to go try them on and followed. Malika and her mother had rushed to complete the order for the ball first. Touraine had been wearing Guérin’s plainclothes during the days.

Touraine tossed the wrapping paper onto her new bed and shook out the clothing. A black sleeveless