The Rebel Assassin

Chapter 37: In Laughter and Tears

Nemia steeled herself as they went into Morane's room, and spoke as soon as the door was closed, words rushing out. "You know I'll help, but I have to have limits. I went long enough being pushed around because I'm a Guardian."

"I know," she said gently. Rather than sit on the more comfortable mattress, she sat on the floor and leaned against the bed, which struck Nemia as a very Morie thing to do. "I know you did. We're going to fill you in on what we came up with, and whatever you say you'll do, that's what you'll do. Nothing else." Her fingers skimmed her injured shoulder, then settled on the skin beneath it. "I won't push you for anything more, and I'll make sure no one else does." Morane had made Nemia many promises over the years. Thieves' honor, she'd say, hand over her heart, grinning. She'd always done her best never to break them.

Loosening her clenched arms, Nemia let out her breath. "Let me see your bandage."

Morie had that slanted half grin that meant she'd seen Nemia deflect the focus off her as soon as she got what she wanted, but she pulled her sleeve down for inspection without argument.

Nemia settled on the bed so she was higher, and found Morie's shoulder at a good level, almost as though she'd expected to be dithered over and sat accordingly. Sometimes Morie was sneakily accommodating like that. She wouldn't comply with annoyances asked politely of her, but she might find ways to make things easier on her friends if she could do it without looking like she was.

Nemia swept Morie's long, loose hair over her other shoulder. It hadn't been quite in the way, but she loved the weight of it sliding through her hands. Her fingertips brushed the back of Morie's neck. It seemed like her breath caught, but she wasn't sure.

"You like the Protector," she said.

Morie shifted under her deft fingers undoing the bandage. "I think she's forthright. And she has good taste."

"She's impatient," Nemia said. It wasn't quite disagreement. Nemia just didn't think anyone else had noticed it the way she had.

She had always been the quiet, overlooked person at every table, the silent observer. She'd learned to listen carefully. And she thought the Protector had an urgency about her. "She wants to be looped in as soon as possible. She was more disappointed than she let on when you didn't want to share the plan yet."

"It's good that she's invested. But if you're trying to warn me to be less attached to her, I guess it's worth remembering that Emorial has been having trouble holding onto the Protectorate recently. And the Protector obviously doesn't love the lack of autonomy. Those could be other factors she's considering when she allies with us, which is... well." She didn't finish, just frowned.

"The Protectorate is splitting?" Nemia knew from all her reading that the Protectorate had been a strange limbo state with a complicated enough relationship to its master-land for so long that an attempt to split would not be altogether surprising. But it was enough to make anyone wary of staying there, while tensions were rising.

Morie shrugged — the other shoulder, since Nemia was inspecting the hurt one. "Not that I know of. But a... new friend of mine, in Emorial, mentioned pro-monarchial sentiments in the Protectorate straining the relationship between them."

"Hmm." Nemia left her doubts at that.

"I agree," Morie said emphatically. She tilted her head, and Nemia saw that she was looking into the mirror on the other wall, and using it to grin at her without turning her head.

Nemia rolled her eyes, unable to keep from smiling. Though Morie was clearly tired, she had recovered enough for some humor. It was the most reassuring sign she could have hoped for. "I meantto say, things are clearly not thatpro-monarchy here, if the Protector feels comfortable allying with a revolutionary movement."