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

top of hers. Touraine brushed her thumb across the other woman’s knuckles, surprised at the sharp twinge of disappointment she felt and also surprised at the relief. Luca wasn’t like the rest of Balladaire. She wouldn’t take and take and take. When she took the throne, she would make Balladaire better, if anyone could. One day.

Touraine let herself entertain that hope while sudden exhaustion dragged her down into the pillows. Or maybe it was their lushness. And Luca settled on her chest.

“What do you want, Touraine?”

The question startled Touraine away from the brink of sleep.

“I don’t want to be your servant anymore.”

Fuck. Djasha was right. Shāl’s holy water. A statement like that couldn’t stand alone, though.

“Not Balladaire’s. I want to be free. Paid a wage, not an allowance, and free to spend it at my leisure. Free to make my own home somewhere, free to… quit my post. If I wanted to.”

Luca went rigid in her arms. “Do you want to quit your post?”

“No—not right now.”

The seconds drew out before Luca relaxed again.

“It’s done,” Luca said. “All of it. We’ll draw up your employment papers and discuss wages tomorrow.”

“And for the Sands?” Touraine’s heart stumbled in her chest.

“That, I can’t do. I’m sorry. Not yet.” The arm she had draped around Touraine’s waist squeezed tightly, and she sounded like she meant it.

Touraine sank back into the too-soft pillows.

Everything she’d ever wanted, and nothing at all at the same time.

CHAPTER 24CITIZENSHIP

Luca woke up surprisingly warm, her cheek sticky with sweat or saliva or both. She was more contorted than usual, too. It took a long time for her eyes and memory to reveal the cause of all the discomfort. As the curve of Touraine’s hip under the blankets solidified, the warmth became suddenly much more pleasant.

Her leg, however, was in agony, and the small knife cut stung and itched. For a moment, she peevishly thought the rebels could have at least healed that. There would be no more sleep today.

The dark, heavy curtains blocked out the day, so she wasn’t sure how late they had slept. She felt a pang of guilt for being grateful that the curtains would keep out not only the sun but any chance glances. For the first time, she wished she’d obeyed Gil’s advice to stay upstairs. The mysterious broadside artist would have had a fucking festival with this.

In sleep, Touraine’s scowl softened, but only just. Even in her sleep, her eyebrows knit and unknit.

I want to be free.

How little Luca knew her, for those words to be such a surprise. There would be time to change that. First, she would fix Touraine’s papers. Employment papers, wage contracts—it was all at the compound.

She eased herself out of bed as gingerly as she could—to spare herself pain but also to let Touraine sleep.

Normally, Adile would have entered at the first hint of Luca stirring. The woman had ears like a hound. Her absence now was conspicuous.

“Luca?” Touraine’s voice, befuddled with sleep.

Heat in her face again. “I’m here.”

Awake, Touraine looked ill. Her eyes were rimmed with dark shadows—one temple was already purplish from where her mother had kicked her. She hunched over her body as if protecting herself.

“Sky above. You need a doctor.”

Touraine held up a hand. “No. I’ll be fine. I just… don’t want to move again. Ever. You’re up early.”

“Am I? I was going to go to the compound and work on those papers for you today. You can stay here, if you’d like.” Luca gestured awkwardly at the bed.

“No.” Touraine sat up too quickly and winced. “I’ll come with you.”

Touraine didn’t perk up during the carriage ride. She sat across from Luca, staring out of the small window.

Luca longed to reach across the space and touch her, but she was afraid the other woman was having second thoughts about the night before. She should ask—that was proper—but asking Do you want me? opened the door for Touraine to say, Actually, no. And right now, that terrified Luca.

So she kept her hands to herself and asked instead, “What’s on your mind?”

“The rebels,” Touraine answered shortly.

Heat rose in Luca’s face. Of course. Everything else hadn’t gone away. More was the pity. Still, she didn’t understand Touraine’s dour look.

“Despite everything that happened, I’m optimistic,” Luca said. “Jaghotai seems rather temperamental, but Djasha—I like her.” That was an understatement. The Apostate was unflinching, decisive. She never raised her voice, yet the Qazāli followed her lead. She did what needed to be done. Luca wanted that.

Touraine’s lips quirked into a shadow of a smile before settling back into a frown.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked Luca.

“About what? An alliance?”

“About the guns.” Touraine shifted her shoulders uneasily as she briefly met Luca’s eyes. “What if they’re lying and they turn on us?”

“As I said before. They would have to be idiots; the Apostate is no idiot. With one hundred guns, we still outnumber them ten to one. It will be fine.”

“But if not. It’s the Sands who’ll have to pay for our gamble.” Touraine said it softly, as if speaking to the window.

“I…” Luca tugged at the edges of her jacket. The stiff brocade covered a loose linen Qazāli shirt that went down to Luca’s midthigh. She’d chosen the ensemble because it made temperature easy to regulate, but now the carriage felt stifling.

Unflinching. Decisive.

“I’ve made up my mind, Touraine. We’ll go forward as planned.” She added tentatively, hoping to offer Touraine something to hold on to, “And after this is over, I’ll work on freeing them, too.”

The tendons in Touraine’s hard jaw bunched, and she nodded once.

I promise, Luca added mentally.

They arrived at the compound shortly after that. In her office, Luca drew the papers up quickly, surprising herself with how adept she’d become at paperwork since taking on Cheminade’s position. While Luca worked, Touraine’s attention flicked from the papers to the door.

“You really don’t look well, Touraine.” Luca set down her pen. “Did she kick something—a rupture inside?”

“I’ve had worse. Maybe I’ll just step out.