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

Her stomach lurched, and she couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment or dread. “Sky-falling fuck.”

“That supposed to be you and her?” Pruett asked. “They fucked up your face.”

“Where’d you get this? How many were there?”

Pruett raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms back over her chest. “They’re all over the city by now, most likely. I pulled this one off the wall of a smoking house around the corner.”

“Shit. I need to go.”

“I just got back.” Pruett frowned. “Can’t you give me a minute of your time, or what? Were you even going to bother seeing me?”

Touraine’s heart thumped low in her stomach, making her nauseated. She could stay. Luca had given her leave. But even though she didn’t know the full shape of Luca’s plans, she knew that Luca needed to see this. It was the kind of picture that did damage, no matter what your plans were. Touraine tried and failed to ignore the bitterness and hurt on Pruett’s face.

“I’m sorry, Pru. I have to go. She’s going to kill someone.”

She picked up an armful of books, plucking them almost at random. If it looked like a Shālan history, she took it. Luca would probably be interested. She tucked the broadside inside one of the covers. With one last look at her friends, she turned to go.

Captain Horse-Fucking Rogan stood in the railed corridor, his slicked hair even shinier in the sunlight.

“I hadn’t expected the pleasure of Her Royal Highness’s chambermaid so soon. And trespassing, no less.”

As always, Pruett was the fastest on her feet. “Captain, sir. The former lieutenant is on an errand for Princess Luca. I was just hurrying her along.”

“All of you? Quite a lot of help for a simple errand.”

Aimée shrugged. “Spare key.”

“Heavy lifting.” Tibeau folded his arms across his thick chest.

“A spare key?” Rogan raised an eyebrow. “We don’t have a spare key. Do you expect me to believe that you four aren’t plotting something like treason?” His smile turned wicked. “At the very least, do you expect a jury not to believe it?”

Touraine stood straighter, let her anger fill out the breadth of her shoulders. “There’ll be no jury, Captain. They’re helping me on orders from Her Highness.”

From her pocket, Touraine pulled out the pass that Luca had stamped with her personal seal.

“And I’ll need their help to carry these books to Princess Luca’s library in the Quartier.”

It was a desperate ploy, and Rogan smiled.

“Unfortunately, they’re all indispensable at the moment. You’re more than welcome to come back, however. Or better yet, Her Highness can send some of the blackcoats. We’d be happy to oblige her.”

Touraine looked over her shoulder at Tibeau, Aimée, and Pruett. They were all used to his bullying. It was etched in the weary resignation on their faces. It had always been one of the facts of life as a Sand, but this was personal. The four of them had gone up against Rogan and his friends years before and lost, badly. But Touraine knew how to play the Balladairans’ game to get what her friends needed. Knew whose name to drop, whose boots to lick. It’s why she’d been picked for lieutenant in the first place.

“Her Highness has a special interest in the well-being of the conscripts, Captain.” Touraine puffed herself as haughtily as she could, and did her best to imitate Luca’s cold demeanor. “And if she or I learn that you’ve been treating the conscripts poorly or with unnecessary severity, she wouldn’t hesitate to remind you of Guard Lanquette’s particular duty.” Touraine cleared her throat. “I believe it was to separate your balls from your body? Something like that.”

She shoved past him with her arms full of books. The silent rage crossed with embarrassment on his face made it worth it.

It was the best she could do for now, but somehow Touraine would fix this, if she had to kill Rogan herself.

Luca was reading through the list of prisoners in the compound jail, when the letters from Balladaire interrupted her. Guérin bowed over the proffered papers, uncharacteristically buoyant. Luca frowned at her uncle’s name on the topmost.

“Have you received something from home, then?” Luca set the letters on top of the records and ledgers she’d taken from Cheminade’s office. She’d been skimming through the prisoners to see which ones might be worth freeing and which ones might deserve a retrial based on… biased concerns. Luca might be willing to free someone who’d punched a price-gouging merchant, but she wasn’t letting murderers back into the colony.

Guérin smiled with reserve, which might as well have been a grin on her usually somber face. “Aye, Your Highness. My oldest daughter’s got a ’prenticeship with a carpenter in La Chaise.”

That warmed Luca’s heart. “I look forward to commissioning a piece from her.”

At that, Guérin beamed. “She’d be honored, Your Highness, and I don’t reckon you’d regret it.”

There was a commotion outside the office, and Luca heard Touraine’s voice. She was smiling before the urgency in the other woman’s tone became clear.

“Your Highness?” Touraine knocked on the door three times, even though it was open. She wouldn’t maintain eye contact with Luca.

“What have you done?” It came out sharper than Luca intended.

Touraine ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I found this in the city.”

The broadside trembled in Touraine’s hand as she held it out, carefully turning the image away from Guérin’s gaze. Luca approached it like a snake. She didn’t want to take it, afraid it might bite. It had been crumpled and straightened and crumpled again, and was damp with Touraine’s sweat. The image, however, was clear.

Sky above and earth below. This was what she had been afraid of. Even though they had clapped for her, for her decision to help the Qazāli orphans. She wasn’t naive enough to think that everyone approved of the decision, but she hadn’t expected a rebuttal so swift.

The worst part was the way her cheeks flushed and she couldn’t help it. She understood why Touraine wouldn’t meet her eyes and why