He was excited.
“All clear,” he said, inclining his head towards Sorrow in a way that made her blood boil. How dare he pretend to care?
“And the men?” Luvian asked, before she could say anything. “The Sons of Rhannon? Did you catch them?”
“Got away,” Vine replied. He looked at Sorrow, and she could have sworn she saw his lip twitch, as though he was trying to master the urge to smile, or smirk.
She decided not to give him the satisfaction of her anger. He knew, and he knew she knew what he’d done. Let him wonder when her vengeance would come. Because it would.
“What about the people?” Sorrow asked, keeping her tone as pleasant as she was able. “Was anyone hurt?”
She knew she’d scored a point when he blinked rapidly before replying. “There was a crush, to escape.”
“Did anyone…? Is anyone…?” Mael asked.
“No one died,” Vine said.
Sorrow was careful to keep her own expression neutral as she replied. “Thank you for your service. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”
Again, that satisfying double blink of confusion, before he said, “Any time, Miss Ventaxis. I’ll send some people back with you to the North Marches –” he nodded to the man and woman with him “– in case any of them are still around. They’ll keep a close eye on you.”
Sorrow heard the threat in the words, but understood too late what it meant.
Meeren Vine didn’t like to lose.
“In fact,” Vine continued, “you ought to keep a guard with you at all times, seeing as the Sons of Rhannon have it in for you. Commander Dain, you wouldn’t mind sticking near Miss Ventaxis, would you?”
The female Decorum Ward shook her head wordlessly as Sorrow’s heart sank.
Sorrow looked at the female guard. She was tall, two heads taller than Sorrow, and broad, her muscular frame obvious even beneath her black tunic. Her dark hair was shorn close to her head, like all of the Ward, and her expression was theirs too: chin raised and jutted, eyes unforgiving.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Sorrow said.
“Oh, after what happened tonight, I think it is. And Commander Dain is one of my finest lieutenants,” Vine replied with a smile. “You’ll be in very safe hands.”
Clever bastard. The last thing she wanted after his display inside was to have one of his people with her, and he knew it. This was a warning not to say anything about what he’d done. And to remind her that he and his men were her only real protectors.
“What about Mael?” Sorrow said desperately. “He’ll need someone too.”
“It’s in hand,” Arta Boniface said, and Vine gave him a courteous nod.
Sorrow looked at Luvian, imploring him to do something, but he shrugged, an apology in his eyes. Traitor. “Let’s go,” she said tersely.
Vine inclined his head and turned, leading her, Luvian, Mael and Arta through the warren of corridors, Dain and the other Ward bringing up the rear. They finally arrived at a door leading out to a small side lane, where Irris was waiting with two more members of the Decorum Ward.
She moved to Sorrow’s side and hugged her before taking her by the hand and saying, “The carriage is this way, come on.”
Sorrow allowed herself to be led as the last of her adrenaline seeped away, leaving her shaking and cold.
“Sorrow,” Mael called.
She turned to see him standing in the light of a gas lamp on the wall.
He looked small, sad, and very tired. She was lucky to be going back to the North Marches with Irris and Luvian. Arta didn’t seem like much of a friend, and Vespus was in Rhylla. She didn’t know if he had anyone else. And she was surprised to find she hoped he did. Hoped he wasn’t alone. Not tonight, at least. She waited for him to say something more, but then Arta Boniface took his arm and guided him away.
Meeren Vine stepped forward then, standing in the light Mael had just left. And unlike Mael, he didn’t look sad or lost. He raised a hand to Sorrow, as though bidding her farewell. It was only once she was safely in her carriage, Luvian and Irris either side of her, that she realized his fist had been closed. Not a wave, but a gesture of victory.
To Ask, Not Answer
Dain sat with them in the carriage as they returned to the North Marches, preventing Sorrow from telling Luvian and Irris about Vine’s actions – or lack thereof – during the attack. She didn’t want the Decorum Ward commander reporting back to her boss; she wanted Vine to think she’d let him win, that she’d learned her lesson.
But inside she smouldered, her anger red coals that burned the whole way back. She kept replaying, it, over and over, fury and shame taking turns to assault her: how he’d turned away. How he’d smirked at her through the flames, while the Sons of Rhannon advanced. How, in that moment, he’d taken all of her power and made her beg for his help, and still done nothing. She’d been a fool to think he’d be so easily got rid of. And now he had someone watching her. Without meaning to, she shot Dain a filthy look, which the Decorum Ward missed as she stared out of the window into the night.
Irris noticed, though, and glanced at her questioningly.
“This is Commander Dain, my new bodyguard,” Sorrow told her. “Captain Vine assigned her to me.”
“I see,” Irris said, offering Sorrow a sympathetic smile.
Sorrow supposed she was lucky to have got this far without having a personal guard assigned to her, but then the hooded man had been right too – she’d barely left the palace before, and when she had, there had been a battalion of Decorum Ward between her and the people.
And the people had never tried to attack a Ventaxis before.
Nevertheless, the presence of the guard annoyed her, and, still shaken from the events at the hall, Sorrow pretended to doze on the journey home. There would be repercussions from this, she thought, as she leant against the carriage side with her eyes closed. More than being assigned a bodyguard. Twice she’d been targeted now. Would there be more? Or would Mael be next? She found she didn’t like the idea of that, either.
Mael… Another thought was demanding room in her head, one she didn’t want to give any credit to. But it wouldn’t leave her: the way he kept defending her, even against Vespus. The way he was always so nice. The way he’d grieved when Harun had died…
The way he acted persistently like a big brother.
Even though he couldn’t be.
By the time they arrived back at their headquarters, Sorrow’s pretend sleepiness had become real, her body and mind utterly exhausted; she didn’t think she could talk if she’d tried.
Luvian gestured for her to follow him into the library, but she shook her head, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.