Page 31 of The Winner's Curse
“They’re secure.”
“I wonder if I should try to recruit any of the general’s slaves. They could be useful.”
Cheat shook his head. “It’s not worth the risk.”
“If we didn’t have people in Senator Andrax’s house, we never would have been able to steal the black powder. All our man had to do was take his master’s key and return it to its proper place afterward. We might be missing a similar opportunity at the general’s.”
“I said no.”
Arin’s heart seemed to be punching its way out of his chest, he was so angry. But he knew that Cheat was right, and his mood wasn’t the auctioneer’s fault. It was his own. Or hers. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more about that last Bite and Sting game: that he had played into her hands, or that she had played into his.
“What about the girl?” Cheat said, and Arin wished that he had asked him any other question.
Arin hesitated, then said, “Reports of Lady Kestrel’s military skill are exaggerated. She won’t be a problem.”
* * *
“Here.” Kestrel handed her old nurse a small ceramic pot. “Syrup for your cough.”
Enai sighed, which triggered another bout of coughing. She leaned against the pillows Kestrel had tucked behind her shoulders, then raised her eyes to the cottage ceiling. “I hate autumn. And the god of good health.”
Kestrel sat at the edge of the bed. “Poor Amma,” she said, using the Herrani word for mother. “Shall I tell you a story, like you used to do for me when I was sick?”
“No. You Valorians are bad storytellers. I know what you’ll say. ‘We fought. We won. The end.’”
“I think I can do better than that.”
Enai shook her head. “Best to recognize the things you can’t change, child.”
“Well, then when you’re better, you’ll come to the villa and I will play for you.”
“Yes. I always like that.”
Kestrel left her side and moved around the two-room cottage, unpacking a basket of food and tidying up.
“I met Smith,” Enai called.
Kestrel’s hands stilled. She returned to the bedroom. “Where?”
“Where do you think? In the slaves’ quarters.”
“I thought you didn’t go there,” Kestrel said. “You shouldn’t go outside until you’re better.”
“Don’t fuss. I went there a few days ago, before I fell ill.”
“And?”
Enai shrugged. “We didn’t speak much. But he seems to be well liked. He’s made friends.”
“Like who?”
“He and the groom—that new one, I forget his name—get along. At meals, Smith usually sits with Lirah.”
Kestrel focused on drawing Enai’s blanket into a neat line across the woman’s chest. She made it neater still, thinking of Lirah’s oval face and sweet voice. “Lirah is kind. She is a good friend for him to have.”
Enai reached for her hand. “I know you regret the purchase, but there are worse places for him to be.”
Kestrel realized that she no longer did regret the purchase and frowned. What kind of person had she become, to feel that way?
