The Keep Within by J. L. Worrad
Author:J. L. Worrad
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags:  
Publisher: Titan Books
TWO NIGHTS TILL
YULENIGHT EVE
32
Carmotta
She ordered her handmaids bring her fourth favourite winter coat. A grey lilac, its collar and sleeves were trimmed with sable furs. More importantly, the sleeves could be drawn back. Ideal for a lady who meant to use a bow.
Two guards escorted Carmotta and her handmaids to the butts. She would have felt safer with Dulenci beside her, but he was off across the city with his boys, having been careful to announce as much to all nearby, as was his custom. A crack was opening between her and him. They had not enjoyed one anotherâs bodies for almost a day and a night. A sadness for her and absolute hell for Dulenci who, when all was said and done, was a walking erection.
She had found she could not touch him. Nor Ean, nor even herself. How was human love possible with her new insight, with those things forever upon every brow? The question of her pregnancy was becoming ever more insoluble. Almost.
âGreetings, sister wife,â said a womanâs voice as Carmottaâs entourage turned a corner into a wide stairwell lit by candles inside hollowed deer skulls. It was Third-Queen Emmabelle and her entourage: two more guards and three handmaids as blonde as she. Each person had their own hand of night upon their head.
âSister wife,â Carmotta replied, as both entourages descended the stairwell together, âI did not think you would be taking part today, given your God-blessed condition.â
âWhere my family hails from everyone knows how to wield a bow.â Emmabelle snorted with laughter as if it were a joke. âIn Duxby, a day at the butts is considered healthy for an expectant mother.â
âI see.â Carmotta could see her skills were real. Not only did Emmabelleâs blue coat have the retractable sleeves like Carmottaâs own, Emmabelle was already wearing the leather protection thing â Carmotta knew not its name â on her wrist. âWe Mancanese have scant familiarity with the longbow.â
âCrossbows over there, isnât it?â Emmabelle said. âI suppose thatâs easier: crank and pull a lever. Anyone can do that.â
âFor my people,â Carmotta replied, âthatâs precisely the beauty of them.â
âOf course, I wonât be using a longbow,â Emmabelle said, bored of the conversationâs direction. Her rosemary perfume wafted to Carmottaâs nose. âIâm too petite, too much a lady. With your arms you might have been all right, though. Your shoulders, too.â
Little bitch. Carmotta smiled. Barbed insult or idiot stumble, Emmabelleâs comments would not get the better of her. Carmotta was in the process of owning Emmabelle and Emmabelle had not the faintest clue. It was her rosemary perfume upon the letter Carmotta had stolen from the Explainerâs chest. Her handwriting too, though she had been careful not to sign her name at the bottom nor address the letterâs recipient at the top. But the body of the letter? Oh what a gift. I cannot stop thinking of when last you held me, were last inside me. I touch myself as I write this, my love, and I pretend it is you.
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