In Her Shadow(23)

"You found her," the Governor said, his voice low with an edge to it.

"Yes," said Britta.

"And I'm assuming this woman you have trussed up is responsible."

"Yes."

"She's one of yours."

"Yes."

"And the Mother of Night didn't know about it?" The Governor narrowed his eyes at her. "I find that hard to believe."

So did Britta, on some level. She did her best not to let her face show it. The illusion of omniscience the Abbess had created worked against the abbey now, casting suspicion on the cloaked sisters. But Britta didn't say anything, allowing the Governor to stew in his paranoia. Would he formally accuse the abbey of wrongdoing?

The room fell still except for the sound of breathing.

This was his opportunity. At this moment, the Governor could accuse the abbey of having broken the treaty, call off the wedding, shut down the abbey, and seize Ankshara. No more power sharing. No integration. He could have it all, answerable only to the Emperor himself. He knew it. She knew it. The whole room knew it. Would he?

"Take this woman into custody," he said, indicating Weboshi. "We'll try her in the morning when we can put together an impartial triumvirate."

Britta relaxed a little, but only until the Governor's household guard surrounded Weboshi to take her away. In that moment, every bit of tension returned. Britta wanted to chase after them, grab the guards manhandling the woman she thought of as her mother, scream and shout, beg for mercy, but she couldn't. She couldn't do any of those things. Instead, she buried the pain in her heart as she watched Weboshi dragged away.

"You look upset, dear," said the Governor.

"I am."

"She's important to you?"

"She raised me."

"Ah."

"She lost her daughter during The Siege. She took me as her own, raised me. She thought. . ."

"'She thought' what?"

"It doesn't matter."

The Governor clasped both hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. "I see."

Did he? "Is there – Is there anything I can do for her?"

The corners of the Governor's lips turned down slightly. "Do you know what we do to traitors?"

Britta shook her head.

"Good, because it's terrible. If you saw it. . ." He shuddered. "Anyway, you'd never forget it."

"What are you suggesting?"

He leaned into her and whispered in her ear. "Make it easy for her."

A cry caught in Britta's throat. He didn't have to spell it out. She knew what he meant. She hated it, but feared he was right. She would do it too, the only thing she could think to comfort the Weboshi. It might even be easy; certainly easier than trying to help her escape.

"But after," the Governor said. "After the trial, for both our sakes. Because, should something happen to her beforehand–"

"The people will think it suspicious. Better the truth come out first."

He smiled. "You have the mind of a politician. You'll make a fine daughter."

Britta wasn't sure the former was much of a compliment. She forced a polite smile. "Can I see her? I mean Ava."

The Governor swept an arm behind him towards the stairs. "Be my guest."

***

Lucius pushed Ava's matted bangs back from her eyes. Sticky from sweat, her cheeks apple red, her body burned like a bundle of embers. He'd only seen her like this once before, during the pestilence that had cost him Shavana. This was worse though, because then Ava had moaned some, groaned, complained of aches. Here she was now, eyes closed and lips silent, her breath shallow and weak. He tried to reason his way through the memory, the worries, but couldn't. Anger formed a fog of its own, making it hard to concentrate on anything except visions of gutting the woman who'd done this. He wanted to drag her entrails through the streets, mount her head on a spike, post her limbs around the city as warning to all of his wrath.

Where was that damn doctor?

His fingers clenched the hilt of his sword so tight, the knuckles turned white. This painful void of rage is what he'd spent the last few years trying to avoid. Muscles tense and taut, he drew his sword before he even realized it, pressing the tip against Britta's neck as she stepped through the door.

"Dux Lucius," she said with a voice calm and steady.

Lucius blinked. His thoughts were a red swirl that only cleared when the piercing light of her eyes met his. He would have done it. Had anyone else walked through that door, he would have run them through. But not her. Not after rescuing Ava. Sweat rolled down his forehead as he tried to get regain his calm. As the cloud of anger faded, he couldn't figure out why he hadn't lowered the sword yet.

"Dux Lucius."

"I'm – I'm sorry." He sheathed his blade before the situation went any further.

Britta rubbed her throat with one hand. She'd seemed so calm when it was against her, but now she trembled. "I didn't mean to scare you," she said.

Dux Lucius didn't answer. He'd let his guard down. This whole situation had forced him off kilter emotionally, and he needed to regain control. The first step to doing so meant not looking at Britta, the woman who'd help pushed him off kilter. But then, when he swung around to look away, he saw his poor little girl on what might be her death bed. There was no way out. No way to protect himself from this. No matter how hard he fought them, his emotions bubbled up from the mental tomb he'd tried to bury them in. They were like angry ghosts. If he let them loose, they'd carry him away to his grave.