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

if it was tangled up in holy wish fulfillment. Would they still be grateful if the magic came wrapped in a god’s trappings? Not a chance. If Shālan magic came from Shālan religion, her plan was finished. And yet… if the magic came from religion, was religion as uncivilized as they had been taught?

Even LeRoche stayed far from praising religion. Simply stating the facts, like a good scholar, and connecting them to completely separate and unlike things, claiming they were, in fact, related.

Most of the book was actually just history. The last Brigāni emperor, Djaya, her blind faith, and her overpowering greed. Somehow, she had managed to devastate swaths of Balladaire. There were rumors of magic here, too.

Somewhere, the Shālans had the magic to make Luca into the queen she wanted to be.

Before her father died, she would sit on his throne, try on his ceremonial crown, pretend to read his notes. She could feel the texture of the throne under her small bottom, the heavy weight of gold on her head supported by her father’s hands. Her memories might have been fashioned more by what Gil had told her than by reality, but Luca held them close anyway.

Now, when she imagined herself on the throne as an adult, she always thought of her father. He’d brought Qazāl into the empire. She wanted to be better even than him, the king who “spread his wings and covered the earth,” as a more poetic scholar wrote. She couldn’t surpass him if she wasn’t willing to risk her reputation.

A sharp rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. At some point, it had become late afternoon. Touraine hadn’t reported back yet.

“Your Highness?” Guérin looked in. “Guard Captain Gillett is here for training.”

Luca stood too quickly, and the tight muscles in her hip recoiled as she overstretched them. She hunched over, gasping. She waved Guérin away and eased up slowly. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. The tingles in her ass hadn’t started up, at least. She limped down to the sitting room, where Gillett was waiting.

“I’m going to need a long warm-up today.” She sighed and went for her practice steel. “Has Touraine come back? She’s been gone all day.”

Gil shook his head tersely. “She might be taking her leisure with it. Worth speaking to her.”

Luca nodded, but deep down something felt wrong. Touraine didn’t seem the type to take her leisure with an order.

Fencing lessons with Gil were always grueling, but today she performed exceedingly poorly. Gil wormed inside her guard several times with a blunt dagger, pretending to be a footpad, and once caught her by the neck in a maneuver she should have been able to roll out of. She took too long to react every time.

He released her and squared off with her side-on. “What’s on your mind, Luca?”

Luca lowered her eyes. “What if she’s hurt?”

Gil grunted. “You knew the risks before you sent her. That’s why you sent her.”

Because Touraine was disposable. She wouldn’t be missed from the soldiers’ ranks, and she had no necessary function elsewhere. If she vanished, Balladaire could try another method to subdue the rebellion.

Gil raised a goading eyebrow. “Is it not?”

His expression left a sour taste in her mouth. “Hmph. Again, old man.”

He smirked and pressed her again. This time, she forced him back with a touch, then another. She rotated as he sidestepped, keeping him at a distance—

And faced Touraine, breathing as if she’d run all the way from the city. A bead of sweat curled around one dark eyebrow and down the gentle slope of Touraine’s nose. The woman’s mouth hung slack in surprise.

A moment later, Gil’s blunt blade rested at her throat.

Luca blushed and stepped away from him. “Hello, Touraine.” She told herself that it was just the exertion that had left her flushed.

“Your Highness.” The other woman bowed.

Luca grunted and dropped into the sitting room’s single chaise, stretching her legs out on it. She rolled her fist over her leg muscles, hoping to lessen the pain later. Like smoothing wrinkles out of crumpled parchment—futile. She hissed whenever she hit a tender spot. Touraine was still waiting.

Luca waved her over. “Sit, sit. Did you find the book?”

“No—but I—he took me to a meeting. With the heads of the rebellion, I think.” The other woman practically vibrated in her seat.

“Is this—they met with you. They met with you!” She jumped up, heedless of the sore muscles, fists clenched in victory. This was even better than The Last Emperor. “This is—wait. It was the rebels? The bookseller is a rebel? Does he know you work with me now?”

“He does. They all do. Do you remember I mentioned Malika Abdelnour last night?”

Luca raised an eyebrow. “She leads them?”

The soldier allowed herself a small smile. “No. It looked more like a council.”

“Who else was there?”

Touraine’s face darkened. “The two who held me captive. The Brigāni and the bastard who broke my ribs. I think they’re the ones highest in the hierarchy.”

“The magic user.”

“I never said I believed it. I don’t, I swear—I’m not—” Touraine shook her head hard.

Luca knew that fear in her eyes. She’d felt it in her office not an hour before. The fear that someone would suspect you of thinking there was something greater in the world than logic and humanity.

“It’s all right. What did they say?” It was happening, sooner than she’d expected, and effortlessly.

“They’re grateful for your offer to send the children to school. They also want full amnesty for Qazāli arrested for sedition.”

“What?” Luca said, incredulous.

Touraine nodded. She seemed irritated. “I know. I only said you might be interested in negotiating. I didn’t promise anything.”

Luca buzzed, pacing back and forth, one hand on her cane, the other in her hair.

“I overstepped. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Touraine said. “But I saw the opportunity. You have to take the open shots as you get them. You don’t always get a second opening.”

“No, yes, you’re right.” Luca stilled and pressed her hand to her forehead as if