The Warden

Chapter 40

He stood conversing with a nobleman, judging by the man's clothing. Back straight, weight resting on a single leg, Masis casually handled a glass of mead while his other hand was tucked behind him. Words passed easily between him and the man. A picture of noble discourse. Masis had been born to this. Raised for this. She had too once, a very long time ago.

Kyla licked her lips, discovering the grease as though for the first time. She felt out the extent of the fatty carnage with her free hand. It was expansive.

Her eyes flicked about. A wide ring had formed around where she stood. No one approached the portion of the table she occupied, and more than a few sets of eyes, belonging to both men and women, darted to her person and away again with greater haste.

Her heart jittered. Do I really care what these fops think?!

Stuttering for a moment, she tossed the unfinished rack of lamb out of sight under a table. Hand now free, Kyla nearly wiped it down her dress's front but decided better of it. Instead, she snatched up a napkin, scoring both her hands and lips thoroughly. None too gentle, her skin smarted by the end. Smoothing her hands over her gown's soft fabric, the lifelight of those closest to her, puttering and skipping nervously, stopped her antics. Straightening, face smoothed impassive, Kyla swept her eyes this way and that.

Those spying on her spoke in whispers but that did not hinder her from eavesdropping.

"Who do you think she is?" asked a woman behind her hand.

"Probably some lunatic relation," replied her male companion, his nose held aloft, "that some family is hesitant to claim."

"More a wild animal than a crazy person," said another woman, her eyes gentle with curiosity. "But she certainly seems tame enough. The queen, herself, talked with her. She must be of some importance."

The man with the women scoffed, looking down his nose at Kyla. "I'm sure the queen was just taking pity on the poor creature. She does have a soft spot for hopeless causes. Look what she did for the Shadows. Building them that colony. Nothing but a waste."

The rest of the group nodded their silent agreement, allowing the subject to shift to more mundane matters. They sipped their mead. Insipid smiles passed between them. Little giggles twittered out.

Kyla's skin, still vibrating from her harsh scrubbing, surged with hot blood, a scorching rush pouring heat out and off her body. Teeth clenched. Breath trembled. Vision narrowed. She took a single step toward the gossipers.

"There you are," said Masis, all at once occupying the whole of her view. In a single movement, he had looped her arm in his and strode away in the opposite direction. "The queen said she had a few people she wanted to introduce us to, so she sent me to fetch you." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "And none too soon I would say. Hmmm?"

She made no reply, but allowed herself to be led, weaving through the throng. With each step Kyla let the tension and visions of broken limbs flow from her body and mind.

"I wouldn't have killed them," said Kyla. "I was only going to scare them a bit."

"Your idea of 'scaring' probably would have killed them," replied Masis.

Smirking, Kyla glanced up at her pupil. He wore a warm smile, nodding to those he passed. Shoulders squared, he walked in this courtly world—his world—with an easy step. A fine specimen for both a duke and a Warden.

You once belonged to this world, thought Kyla at herself. She once stalked these grounds as confidently as this infant. There were just too many eyes now. And they could all see her. She had to let them see her.