The Sword Unbroken

Chapter Eleven: Memories

Content warning: This chapter contains a scene that involves non-consensual sex and may be triggering. 

Inside the grand foyer of Marasette, Rerdas watched his breath spill out ahead of him like steam. He drew his cloak tighter around his shuddering shoulders.

Hastings had been taken to the stables, which were somewhere deep within Marasette's luxurious grounds. Beyond the rolling lawns, through the maze of carefully manicured gardens, somewhere in the rows of stalls that housed enough beautiful horses to outfit a cavalry, Rerdas' only escape was happily munching on warm oat mash. It would be difficult to get to the horse, and he would need to find his mount's tack quickly—

"Are you hungry?" Umber's voice bounced off of the blue marble of the room. The duke turned to glance back at Rerdas as he swung his own cloak off and flung it into the waiting arms of a servant.

Rerdas swallowed and unhooked the cloak clasp at his shoulder with numb fingers. What was he doing, designing his escape? Umber would destroy them. This had always been the plan. "Not particularly hungry, Your Grace," he answered.

"I always come back from Hassindra's picnics hungry...she thinks wine is a fair substitute for real food. Where in the name of the Eternals is that damned—"

"Your Grace," interrupted the butler. The man rushed to the duke's side. "Your Grace, there is—"

"My guest and I will be upstairs, Gerral. Have the kitchen send up some food...something light. Fruit or the like. And those little square pastries with the chocolate centers! And cider. Rerdas, do you like cider? We've got this lovely hot cider that's...well, I'll just have Gerral send it up too, and you can try it. Did you get all that, Gerral?"

The butler twisted his hands together. "Yes, of course, Your Grace, but before you retire, Feldlord Boldwir is here."

"What?" Umber's boyish excitement vanished. He stepped toward the door through which the butler had emerged, and then glanced back at Rerdas.

"Huntmaster, you must forgive me," he said, suddenly formal. "I must attend to this. Gerral will guide you upstairs, and I will join you shortly. This will only take a moment." The duke strode away before Rerdas could say a word, and banged through the door into the other room. It lay partially open in his wake, casting a warm golden band of light into the dim entryway where Rerdas stood.

"Boldwir." Umber's growl echoed into the hall. "You could not have picked a better time."

"Your Grace! I did not mean to impose upon you, but I...have urgent news."

Rerdas recognized the warbling voice of the unseen speaker. Boldwir had ridden out on hunts a few times. He was one of the only Feldlords Rerdas had ever met.

Gerral stepped between him and the door, extending a hand toward the stairs. But he couldn't block the sound of the conversation in the room beyond.

"The Eastern Felds again?" Umber asked.

"Your Grace, Feldlord Pilico has been murdered. Some...some are saying assassinated. By forces loyal to the Advocate." The man's voice was quavering even more than usual.

Rerdas stared at the door.

The butler cleared his throat loudly. His fixed smile looked painful. "If the young master will follow me, I will see you to the duke's chambers. You can wait there for your...audience with His Grace."