only that which required urgent attention. If she could do that, there was no reason she couldn’t control it well enough to bypass Quindor’s testers on the docks, and the coins Killian had given her, along with the wages she’d earned, were more than enough to pay for passage.
Yet here she remained.
She told herself that it was because it was too risky. That it was better to get back to Celendor late than never. That her control over her mark wasn’t certain, something proven by Killian testing her with whatever injuries he garnered during their training, which she inevitably healed despite her best efforts.
Have they been your best efforts?
She bit down on the insides of her cheeks, uncertain about the answer. Uncertain whether her failure was more purposeful than she cared to admit.
Tying off one of Lena’s braids with a bit of twine, Lydia paused in the task to press a hand against the ring hanging between her breasts, the feel of it comforting. The ring her father had given her. The ring she’d sold to try to get back to Teriana. The ring Killian had paid a fortune to give back to her because he’d known how much it meant …
You are a terrible friend, she silently accused herself. And a worse daughter.
“What do you think, Lydia?”
The sound of her name pulled Lydia from her self-flagellation of her character, and she looked up to find the other girls staring at her. “Pardon?”
“I thought he was awfully liberal with his hands,” Gwen said.
“Who?”
“High Lord Calorian.” Gwen frowned at her. “Haven’t you been listening?”
“Sorry, I was lost in thought.” Frowning, Lydia divided the hair on the other side of Lena’s head into sections, considering Killian’s brother. As uncomfortable as the attention had made her, Lydia had spent enough time around political men of Hacken Calorian’s sort to know that it had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with demonstrating power. And she suspected it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with either Killian or Malahi, perhaps both.
“I thought he was kind to show interest in us,” Brin muttered. “We spend all day watching over Malahi and her ladies, and not one has ever so much as asked me my name.”
Lena laughed and Lydia tugged on her hair to keep her still. “Gods, Brin. You don’t want women like Helene Torrington knowing your name. And even a farm girl like you should know by now that if a man pays you a squirt of attention, it means he wants something. High Lord Calorian was likely just buttering us up to please Her Highness.”
“Quit gossiping about your betters, you damned foolish girls.”
Every head in the room turned to watch Bercola enter, an oversized cup in one hand and a teapot in the other.
“They aren’t better.” Gwen scrunched up her face. “They’re just rich enough to make everyone think so.”
“Philosophical enlightenment from Gwen—my day is made and I shall rest easily.” The giantess shooed one of the girls out of her chair. “How about this: Quit gossiping about those powerful enough to make your life difficult should they not like what you say.”
“You know the Calorians best,” Lena said, ignoring Bercola’s warning. “What’s Hacken like?”
“He’s ambitious and nothing like Killian, so don’t presume to know one because you know the other.”
“Nothing wrong with ambition,” Brin said. “Won’t get far in life without it.”
“Drop the subject.”
“So you’re saying he wants to be king?” Lena persisted.
Bercola glared malevolently at the pretty girl. “If I tell you a bedtime story about the Calorians, do you promise to go to sleep and leave me in peace?”
Lena grinned and nodded. “Tell us about how you came to be in their service.”
“Fine. Fine.” Bercola leaned back in her chair. “I was part of a landing party during the last war between Eoten Isle and Mudamora. We’d rowed up into the swamps with the intent of coming at Serlania from the rear, but we were set upon by High Lord Calorian’s forces. The former High Lord, not the one Brin’s mooning after.”
Brin’s cheeks turned bright red and she crossed her arms but said nothing.
“Anyway, the bastards rained arrows down upon our boats and there was little to be done, sitting ducks that we were. So we jumped in the water, trying to escape by swimming upstream beneath the murk. Unfortunately, the waters down there are rife with crocs. Damned creatures finished what the Mudamorians started.”