Academy for Courting Curses - Tara West Page 0,82
but Jade was far more fragile.
“Too late.” She flung her dress across the room. “If Melandris comes asking for you, I’ll get in trouble when I’m forced to lie.”
“I figured you’d say that.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Good thing I have two servant’s robes.” She tossed the extra uniform at Jade.
Jade rubbed a thumb over the rough fabric. “Where are we going?”
Kyria rummaged through her capes in her tall oak closet. “To the jail,” she said and pulled out a faded emerald cape with moth holes she’d been meaning to donate to the poor.
Jade rolled her eyes. “Of course. So we can both get raped and watch our bride prices plummet.”
“We’re not going to get raped,” she said. “Romulus, the head jailer, was a Dragon Defender. He fought with my brother.”
That didn’t guarantee them protection from rapists, but she would pretend it did. Tucking her brother’s pearl-handled dagger inside her pocket, she patted it for good measure and prayed to the goddess she wouldn’t need it.
“And now he’s a jailer?” Jade scrunched her nose.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “A dragon bit off his leg.”
Ignoring Jade’s gasp, she climbed over the window seat stuffed with dolls and other trinkets their mothers had sent to them, and with the dexterity of a prowling cat, jumped to the thick limb of the tall Empire tree. Holding out a hand, she helped her friend onto the limb. “Don’t look down.”
Jade cringed, her eyes momentarily closing. “The things I do for you.”
“I know, my sweet.” Turning over Jade’s hand, she kissed her palm. “I’ll make it up to you later.”
She pulled her friend to the rope ladder hanging from the tree and prayed she’d be able to keep her word and that they survived the night.
* * *
Jumping over a puddle of piss, Kyria swore while they navigated dark alleyways, hoods pulled low. Jade had nearly lost her footing on the slick cobblestones at least a dozen times, cursing Kyria with each misstep. She cursed herself, too, for being foolish enough to bring her along. Kyria had only had to pull her blade on one staggering drunk, threatening castration when he whipped out his shriveled member. That threat was enough to momentarily sober him and send him scurrying back into the shadows.
As they walked up the steep hill that led to the ancient prison with tall gray turrets and an entrance of imposing metal bars that stretched at least two men in height, Kyria smiled. Romulus was outside, towering over the other two guards while they shared a joke, the embers from his pipe falling precariously close to the wooden peg that had replaced his leg. He blew out a long puff of smoke.
“Kyria?” Eyes widening, he tapped the remainder of the ashes onto the ground. “What are you doing here?”
She fanned away the skunky aroma. Romulus had acquired the habit of smoking the medicinal herbs after losing his leg, and now the pipe was an extension of himself. He claimed it was the only thing that settled his nerves and dulled the ache in his soul after losing so many brothers-in-arms to the menacing leviathans.
Sidling up to him, she glanced over her shoulder, not liking the watching eyes of the other two guards. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
“Of course.” He led her back down the hill toward an alcove.
Heaving several loud sighs, Jade followed them, the pitter-patter of her sandals nearly drowned out by the sound of Romulus’s wooden leg striking the cobblestones, echoing across the walls.
Inside the alcove Romulus ducked to prevent his head from hitting the arch. Jade stayed outside, crossing her arms and looking none too pleased. Ignoring Jade’s grumbling, Kyria looked up into Romulus’s dull brown eyes, noticing new lines drawing down his mouth. He’d lost more of his hair, too. Time had not been kind to a man who couldn’t have been more than thirty.
Her brother brought him home once during leave, but the gentle giant had kept to himself, hobbling around on his makeshift leg and mourning those he’d lost to the dragons a few months earlier.
Kyria’s parents had been upset with her brother for bringing Romulus home, acting inconvenienced by his presence. They showed little appreciation for the sacrifices he’d made for his country. Ashamed of her parents’ behavior, Kyria had done her best to make him feel welcome, helping with daily tasks such as strapping on his leg and collecting his herbals from the apothecary. He’d stayed only a fortnight, hitching a ride to