The Unbroken C. Clark (best books to read for self development .txt) 📖

before entering the side room where Cantic waited with the woman who would have the answers.

Cantic sat on a stool, looking for all the world as if she were in a commoners’ public house. Which, Luca realized, might be as much a mask as her own icy facade. Strangely, it reminded her of Touraine. False casual, always on edge. If Touraine were colder.

Touraine, who was alive. Touraine, who had been healed.

Aranen din Djasha sat across from her, hands in irons behind her back, feet locked together. Bruises lined her face in fresh purple and stale yellow. Her crisp short hair stuck up at all angles as if tousled by sleep.

“Good afternoon, Aranen din Djasha. I’m sorry that the general’s soldiers were so rough with you. I hope the military medics were sufficient?”

“Their hands are rougher than necessary, Your Highness.” Though the woman spoke to Luca, her eyes never left Cantic. They burned with fascination.

“Do you know the general, Doctor? General, are you two acquainted?”

The deep triangle of lines around the general’s mouth deepened as she frowned. She leaned this way and that to get a better angle in the flickering of the lantern light, but she shook her head in the end.

“The general knows my wife, Your Highness.”

“Djasha din Aranen, leader of the rebel council?”

“The one. Also called the Brigāni witch by some.” The doctor blinked brown eyes slowly at Cantic.

Cantic stiffened at the mention of the Brigāni, like she always did. There were some mistakes that left scars in you no matter how long ago you made them. Was Luca making a similar mistake, or would she look back on this and feel justified?

She was too close not to try.

“Why is she called the witch? Did she have anything to do with Lieutenant Touraine’s healing?”

In that fateful court-martial months ago, Touraine mentioned a Brigāni witch, and it was Djasha who had promised magic.

Aranen straightened, the irons around her wrists banging. She met Luca’s eyes for the first time. “No. She didn’t. I did.”

General Cantic barked a laugh, but the dismissal didn’t have the same effect when her body went erect. Luca held up a hand. She hadn’t told Cantic why she wanted Aranen and the other doctors and rumored priests.

“By ‘healed,’ Doctor, what do you mean? You plied your trade as a physician?”

“You know that’s not what I mean, Your Highness.”

Cantic stood so quickly that her stool fell back with a clatter. The muscle in her jaw flexed, and her hands clenched. “Your Highness, we’re being baited.”

“For someone who was so eager to find the source of Shālan healing magic thirty years ago, you’re quite reticent now, General.” Aranen sat back in her chair, a small smile playing on her lips. “I’m not here to bait you. Unlike my wife, I’m willing to tell you what you want.”

“Why?” Luca asked.

“Because. I am a priestess of Shāl. We practice peace above all.” The doctor-priestess shrugged and smirked at the general. “Forgive me. I’m not perfect. If you give us peace… I’ll tell you everything.”

Luca rolled her pen between her fingers. “And what exactly do you mean by that? Peace?”

“Don’t listen to this nonsense, Your Highness.” General Cantic had governed herself enough to hold her volume in check, but her voice still strained with anger. “It does us no credit to entertain believers.”

“It does you no credit to pretend you never did.”

“Balladaire is more civilized than that.”

“You were plenty interested in our god when you went hunting down Brigāni tribes. I heard that one of the Brigāni came back for your company.”

Cantic had Aranen by the collar before Luca understood what was happening. “Hold your tongue!”

“General!” shouted Luca over the clatter of iron and chair and the grunt of the scuffle. “Release her immediately, then go see to the state of the compound, if you please.”

Cantic loosed the priestess, then scrubbed her face with her hand. Something disbelieving showed in her face, and Luca wondered at it. The general had been fighting this fight, or something like it, for at least thirty years. If Luca ended it now, with this conversation, what did that mean for the decades of Cantic’s life? Would the soldier feel wasted or relieved?

“Your Highness. You don’t know what you’re doing with her. You can’t trust them.”

“Thank you for your concern, General. You’re dismissed.”

For a moment, nothing in the room moved while Luca and Aranen both waited to see if Cantic would obey. Then, with the curtest of bows, the general made an about-face and left.

After the door closed, Luca sagged back down into her chair. “That was peace over all?”

Aranen’s smug look was gone, leaving only a distant, vacant expression. “Some scores are worth settling.”

Comprehension finally dawned. “Surely Djasha wasn’t the Brigāni who…? It wasn’t just a rumor?”

“The Brigāni who tore through Cantic’s camp using magic forbidden even by our god?” Aranen smiled. “My wife would never do such a thing.”

Luca recalled Djasha that night at the festival. How swiftly she’d pierced her student’s body, how ruthlessly, never once looking away from the girl’s eyes.

“Forbidden even to you?” Luca asked.

“When I say ‘peace,’ I mean that I want you to leave. All of you. You. Your soldiers, the entire compound emptied. The merchants gone except by invitation. All land reverted to Qazāl. No Balladairan representation at all unless and until we’ve courted you for trade.”

“And would you?”

“Shāl willing, no. We have others to ally with. Depending on your good behavior, however, all things are possible.”

“You sound like a diplomat, not a doctor.”

“A priest of Shāl is a mediator. We heal more than bodies.”

Luca breathed deeply. The jail was cooler than the surface outside, but her shirt clung to her sweaty back. “I told Touraine this. I cannot simply leave. I will work toward it.”

“My wife tried to make a partial peace with you before. Something you would work toward. The next thing we knew…” Aranen shrugged again.

It was all Luca could do not to show her full surprise. “She lied to you, too.”

Aranen frowned. “Who?”

“Touraine. She