State of Sorrow (Sorrow #1)(75)

“I will be using my enormous brain and intellect to cope with being your advisor and continuing to investigate Vespus, and Mael.” He paused, and then the bed dipped as he sat beside her. She turned to look at him.

“But I don’t want you to get bogged down in that obsession and sabotage your own campaign. Especially now you have the Sons of Rhannon to take on that duty.” He smiled at her. “If we can somehow prove he’s an imposter, then the election is undoubtedly sewn up. But, even if we can’t prove it, I think you can win anyway. I know you can. So your job is to focus on that.”

Sorrow reached for his hand and squeezed. “You’re a good advisor. A good friend. I’m so glad to know you,” she said as she released him.

Luvian stiffened, closing his eyes, and Sorrow wondered if she’d upset him. “Of course you are, who wouldn’t be?” he said finally, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Let’s go and find these kishkies.”


They took Dain with them to the restaurant Xalys had recommended, asking for a table for three. She seemed confused to be included, and Sorrow couldn’t blame her, given the way she’d treated her so far. Sorrow was ashamed of her behaviour, and so she made an effort to talk to her while they waited for their food.

“Where are you from?” Sorrow asked.

“The East Marches,” Dain replied.

Sorrow waited to see if she’d add anything else, but when it became apparent she had no plans to, she asked, “What made you choose to join the Decorum Ward?”

“It’s a job,” she said in her soft-as-velvet voice. “Papa is dead, Mam’s not up to much and I’m the eldest of five. We needed money, and it pays. Besides, there aren’t a lot of jobs out there and I’m… Well, I’m big. It made advancing through the ranks a lot easier. And the higher you go, the more money there is, so…” She trailed off, head lowering a fraction, and Sorrow’s heart twisted in sympathy for her.

She knew what it was to have few – or no – choices about the path your life took. Dain was doing what she had to, for herself and her family, and that was something Sorrow had come to understand. And if Dain felt that way, perhaps others in the Decorum Ward did too. Perhaps they needed a chance somewhere else.

“Do you like it?” Sorrow’s voice was soft.

Dain stared at her, and Luvian turned to her too.

“I don’t like throwing my weight around,” Dain said, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t like bullies. Or cowards. The two tend to go hand in hand. I don’t want to become one.”

Sorrow understood then why Dain had stood up for her at the bridge.

She smiled at her guard. “A lot of things are going to change when I win the election,” she said as their food arrived. “For everyone. For you, if you want. I’ll probably need a constant bodyguard, someone I employ.”

Dain nodded, her eyes lowered, and Sorrow reached for one of the kishkies.

The pastries were nice, lightly spiced meat inside a flaky shell, dusted with icing sugar. The combination of flavours and textures was strange but incredibly tasty, and the owners were delighted to have Rhannish guests. They’d brought out more varieties than the table ordered, and plied them with honey wine. Like all Rhyllians they spoke Rhannish, and Sorrow leant over to Luvian and told him that when she was chancellor she wanted to make learning Rhyllian available to everyone.

“All the languages,” she’d said, her voice slurring gently. “All of them. If I had an ability like the Rhyllians, it’s what I’d want. Imagine it.” She tried to say something in Rhyllian, mangling the phrase and causing the Rhyllians at the table next to theirs to look disgusted.

“That’s enough wine for you.” Luvian looked a little worse for wear himself. For once he’d taken off his frock coat and was sitting in his shirtsleeves, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, revealing surprisingly toned forearms. He tried to take her glass from her, but she slapped his hand away, and drained the contents.

“That’s enough wine for me,” she said as she put the glass down a little harder than she’d meant to. “Come on, we have an early start.”

It was the wine that made Sorrow do it.

They were walking back, chattering loudly, when Sorrow saw the shop. The sign on the door said open, and so she paused, bending down, pretending to adjust the buckle on her shoe.

“Are you going to be ill?” Luvian turned and asked.

“No, my feet hurt. New shoes.”

“Do you need me to carry you?” He looked serious.

“No, I’d snap you like a sapling. I’ll sit down for a minute. You go on, Dain can walk with me.”

Luvian shrugged and began to head to the inn, pausing once to look back at her. She made a pantomime of grimacing and rubbing her heel, watching through her hair until he’d turned a corner and was out of sight. Then, looking at Dain, she pressed a finger to her lips and beckoned her towards the shop.

When they arrived at the inn, Luvian was standing at the bar, having an animated conversation with the barkeep, and he turned to wave Sorrow over.

She pointed at her shoes, faking a limp, and then disappeared up the stairs to the corridor the Rhannish party had hired for themselves, Dain guarding the corridor this time not from danger but from her advisor, while she slipped into Luvian’s room and left a parcel on the bed, smiling to herself.