Page 101 of The Fury She Holds
Tal slipped into her new clothes, delivered by Faron after the mage and her own fury destroyed her old ones. She missed the elasticity of her old clothes. These new ones were tight and scratched her fury-healed skin—skin that felt like an even more restricting suit. “You said the note had been signed ‘The Grass.’” Tal tied the laces on a pair of leather boots that likely cost more than everything she owned and then some.
The seer finally poked her head into the room. “You and I both know that was some sort of joke between you and the witchling. Now, go put your face out there so maybe she’ll come out of the woodwork, and we can thank her for saving your life.”
“The witch saved my life; you saved my life. Even the king has saved my life. When does Tal save her own life, huh?” She meant to be funny, but her voice broke on the last word. She hadn’t been the same the last few days. She’d struggled to smile, food didn’t hold its usual flavor, and sleep was riddled with nightmares of a soldier in pieces and a crazed grin with cracked lips.
Rainier walked by her room. “Maybe when she remembers how she transformed into Living Fury.” His voice trailed after him.
Tal stood, her new boots laced and feeling like they would give her blisters. “I told you, I don’t know! I called my fury, and it answered! Likealways.” Without seeing him, she knew herfriend’s narrowed eyes and raised brow reflected how little he believed her. “It’s nice to know that almost dying doesn’t change how you treat me!” she called after him.
He hadn’t said it yet, but she knew the vision of the Pyrie, and the legend of her magic-induced madness, weighed heavily on his mind. The worry of it ate away at her idle thoughts. She had felt it—that blissful detachment in the moment she let her power free. She could have burned it all if she hadn’t been so focused on the mage. And that thought terrified her more than anything.
“It’s because we love you and couldn’t let you die. It didn’t feel right when your grumblings didn’t echo throughout the tunnel,” Egan said.
“I don’t grumble.”
Arms wrapped around Tal from behind and she fell into the warmth. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you learn how to be cheery. Your first lesson is to remain neutral when speaking to that alchemist of yours.”
She turned in his arms. “I’m not ready to talk to him yet. But there’s something else I need to do.”
Faron squeezed her hand. He guided Tal through the streets to a dilapidated shack on the northern side of the docks. In its prime, it would have had a perfect view of the Taralin. Tal imagined Eddard growing up watching the ships sailing by, pretending he joined the sailors on their adventures across the world. Now his childhood home stood abandoned and broken.
A soldier stood in front of the doorless entry, his back to her, and Tal’s heart stopped for a moment, thinking her shadow hadn’t died after all. Then, she noticed this man’s height, the wayhe stood as if a rod had been jammed down the back of his shirt. His hand lay still on the pommel of his sword.
Misery seized her heart once more. A seagull flew overhead, gliding on a breeze she couldn’t feel. She took a shaky breath. Mildew and seawater hung on the air, an unfamiliar smell after the days hiding in her tunnels. Faron squeezed her hand, and Tal steeled herself.
She clung to the waterskin in her arms. The soldier showed no signs of detecting her approach, nor did he react when she stood at his shoulder.
Inside, sun rays shone through holes in the roof and walls. Signs of furry inhabitants littered the wooden floor. Those items deemed useful or worth anything had long since been looted, but a few scraps of cloth and broken furniture remained. She left the waterskin by the entrance; a parting gift she never had the chance to give.
“I didn’t stop it.” Tal’s voice clung to her throat as if the words didn’t want to be released. She tried to swallow, but the muscles in her throat wouldn't cooperate.
Jens took in a shaky breath.
“He pushed me out of the way, and before I could even turn, it was over.” Her vision blurred through tears she’d been shedding since her rescue. Eddard didn’t deserve this. The whole damned kingdom fought tooth and nail to bring him down, and he still smiled like the air in his lungs was its own victory. He should have seen the mountains. He should have seen the world. Instead, the last thing he saw had been a dreary tavern on these damned dirty streets. Tal’s fists clenched at her sides. She bit her cheek and let her head fall back. The sun burned her eyes, and she welcomed it. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop it.”
Jens’s callused hand closed around her shoulder. He didn’t turn to her but kept his gaze on the rays of sun lighting the forgotten home. Waves of muscle tensed, marring his stonyfeatures. “It was his duty to protect you. When the captain called off the investigations, Ed enlisted my help. He knew the threat still remained.” He cleared his throat. “You killed the bastard. He’d be proud.”
Tal could only nod. She reached across her chest to grip Jens’s hand. This singular point of contact comforted her more than his words. She let the tears fall, let the waves of grief wash over her body. She sent a silent plea to whoever would listen that Ed had found his adventure even if it wasn’t in this life. She apologized to the empty house, vowing her pride wouldn’t put anyone in danger again. Guilt saturated every broken piece of her. She turned her face to the sky, imagining Ed’s warm smile, forgiving as always.
Jens held steadfast, an anchor against the tide. Together, they said good-bye to their friend while the seagulls cried above, and the sun shone on his childhood home.
Tal studied the faces she passed. She’d left a letter inside a bird’s nest, given a token to a crow, and fed fish to a black cat. The witch coven preferred to be left alone, but she’d learned a few tricks over the years. If they accepted her requests, she would know.
Faron put his arm around her shoulders. “Are you sure you don’t want to go anywhere else?”
She leaned into him and shook her head. “I’m tired. I want to go home.” She eyed the road that would take them to the palace. “Don’t you have to return?”
“I have a meeting with the council in two days. As far as they know, I’m on a hunt until then.”
She watched a young woman with curly brown hair cross the street. It wasn’t Dierdre. “How important is this meeting?” She dreaded the thought of him going back to the palace. He’d only left her side once since she’d been attacked, and that had only been long enough to find someone to send a letter. Once he left, she knew things would be different. The little haven they’d created the last few days was only temporary.
His voice held no tension, but she felt it in his arm. “They’re angry with me for deploying the guard.”
Tal had almost forgotten. If Daire and Faron had dispatched the mage while Tal took care of Badger, perhaps no one would have been hurt. Ed would still be alive. Something nagged at her thoughts. It wasn’t the horror of her torture, or the despair of Ed’s death. It had something to do with Faron’s meeting with the council. She pulled on that thread until it was taut, and her head snapped back with the invisible force. “Where is Daire?”
“Bastard!” Tal’s fist connected with Daire’s jaw. His head whipped to the side, and he turned back to her, gaping. Her second fist found its mark.
“What the blazes?!” Daire reached to cup his jaw.
