The Rogue Guardian

Chapter 70: Pressure

This is short, but hopefully I'll write a lot this week and have the next few chapters prewritten! Based on the length of The Royal Thief, this book should end soon :O I hope within ten chapters!

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Just weeks before, Nemia had looked down at Xalva's last written words clenched in her thin, pale fingers and realized that she was alone. Morie had left her. Xalva was dead. Cara was stationed at the border, even if she could have brought herself to talk to the bubbly, smiling girl about her own dark problems. There was the same problem with Nick and Sam. She'd had no one, and she'd accepted that.

What she hadn't accepted was Irina's determination to change that.

Maybe she'd hoped her failure of an attempt to push Irina away had worked. Maybe— she had to stop and genuinely laugh at that when she thought about, a cracking sound that startled her with its rustiness. She could practically hear Morie gasping breathlessly with laughter as she demanded, "What kind of good-bye was that?"

But Morie wasn't there to laugh with her. The fact that she'd meant to said goodbye and then actually kissed this beautiful, infuriatingly slick girl instead was just another ridiculous, darkly humorous aspect of her life at the moment.

She did want Irina gone. Her grip on her life grew more tenuous everyday; picking apart Irina's intentions sapped energy she couldn't spare. Should she go with Irina to lunch? Was it an honest attempt to make sure she rested and ate that she should appreciate and give in to? Or was it a ruse to get her near the princess so Irina could use her as leverage? Had that kiss been real, or did Irina just think getting Nemia to care about her romantically would further her goals?

She didn't know what was genuine. She didn't know anything, except that it was getting harder to care if it was genuine or not.

So when she opened her door to see Irina waiting for her on the other side, she debated closing it in her face and getting back into bed.

"You look so tired!" Irina said, somehow sounding empathetic despite looking as though she's never missed a night of sleep in her life. "You need breakfast."

"I'm not hungry."

Irina frowned and took her hand, weaving their fingers together. "You worry us when you say things like that."

"Who's us?"

"Well. Magali and I." She squeezed her hand. "Mostly me."

So a grand total of maybe one and half people. She allowed herself to think for a moment about how Morie would have reacted to this— probably by pushing her back into bed to sleep and bringing her up several pocketsful of stolen food from the mess hall— before weakly returning Irina's squeeze. "I'll be hungry once there's food in front of me."

"Good. Magali invited us to eat with her. There'll be those biscuits you like, and chocolate, and if you need to rest you can..."

Nemia let herself drift away from Irina's soft chatter. Of course breakfast involved the princess. Everything involved the princess nowadays. Nemia may have been tuning out a lot of talk recently— she'd tried to avoid gossip ever since she exhausted the rumors about why Morie left— but some things couldn't help but pierce her haze.

Caer Solentude had disappeared (Nemia wondered what all those people who didn't know he was the spymaster thought of that), which meant that for the first time since Magali had taken her place in the castle's politics, there was an obvious opening for someone to take his place as advisor. Amazingly enough, not everyone had yet realized that Irina had it cinched. Perhaps when you weren't the leverage she was using to get that position, Irina's machinations were harder to detect.

Nemia came back to herself as Irina was guiding her to a comfortable cushion at the princess's low breakfast table, and sat down gratefully, taking the steaming mug that was pressed into her hands.

"Good morning," Magali said. There were already official-looking papers strewn across her side of the table. She appeared distracted— very distracted, as Nemia was so distracted herself that she wouldn't have registered the princess's mood unless it was acute.

"Good morning, indeed," Irina responded, primly pouring herself some tea. The softer, concerned manner she reserved for Nemia slipped away as she straightened her spine. This was the Irina in perfect control of everything and everyone she came in contact with. "Did you hear Therese of Verivain was accused of being seen consorting with rebels? What a thing to wake up to."

"Yes, of course." Magali took a sip of cold tea and grimaced. She must have been sitting there for quite some time before they came in. "I'm sure that's going to have drastic consequences, in this climate. But I have more... confusing news."

Irina thrived on confusion. Nemia darted a look at her gleaming gaze before returning to her chocolate with mixed feelings. She had no doubt that whatever was being confused, Irina would straighten it out in whichever way best benefited herself.

"I haven't heard anything particularly strange."

"No, this is classified." Magali pushed a paper across the table and Irina propped her cheek on her hand as she leaned over to read it, the swing of her hair drawing Nemia's eyes up again.

Irina in business mode was dangerous but, unfortunately, even more beautiful. Nemia's theory was that when Irina concentrated so hard that she forgot about upholding her masks, the real Irina showed through. And unluckily for Nemia, the real Irina was wickedly smart and alluring in an uncontrived way and... and she screwed Nemia up. She ruined everything.

"I don't understand," Irina said. The tone of her voice added another level to this— I don't understand how I could not understand. Nemia couldn't help but smile. Irina's scowl deepened in return and she pushed the papers over. "Well, you look then."

So Nemia looked, thinking hard to avoid being sidetracked by Irina's intense stare. It was awful, that Irina had flaws when she got annoyed and they were charming, because she couldn't believe anyone was smarter than her and she looked so taken aback when she was proved wrong. Finally, Nemia placed her empty mug on the table and rolled her shoulders. "It's not that confusing."

Irina scoffed. "You have an explanation?"

"Yes, a very simple one. Clearly the captain isn't dead."

"We saw him die."

"You saw a man in a hood and the captain's uniform die," Nemia countered, and Irina snapped her mouth shut in a huffy way. "Who authenticates the prisoner before the hanging?"

"The Sage did it for the captain," Magali said, her eyes wide as she considered the implications.

Nemia breathed in the scent of the chocolate she'd stolen from Irina's setting. "Well then, I suggest setting up a meeting with him, as well as asking around the dungeon guards who should have been involved with the captain's imprisonment and transfer to the gallows."

"I still think it's more likely the reports from the border forts were wrong,"Magali said, uncertainly.

Irina shook her head. "Nemia's right. Reports from the border have never been this garbled. Either captain Joshua made an unscheduled inspection visit after his death on the same night several important prisoners escaped, or this is a ridiculous practical joke."

"A confirmation report is coming," Magali said. "We'll know then."

"Until then," Irina said grimly, "we assume we have a traitor in the castle."

They kept discussing the strange report— what should be done about the escapees, how to prevent it from happening again. But Nemia was sure she'd contributed more than enough and focused on her breakfast. She was hungry now, after all, and Irina losing her sugarcoating made her relax. Letting the warm chocolate and soft morning light sooth her, she rested her head on Irina's shoulder and closed her eyes.

As she began to drift again, she felt Irina cautiously wrap one arm around her waist, anchoring her against her warmth, and the pressure inside her chest gave in slightly.

She wasn't not alone, exactly, but she could pretend for one moment that Irina understood.