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

“The bears,” Luca said softly.

Touraine nodded. The bears. She’d seen the priests’ monstrous transformations into the animals they worshipped. Watched the bears run in the direction of her own soldiers. “Wolves, too. Then when they finish, you’re gone. Just empty.”

“Dead?”

Touraine shook her head. If only. If only. “We had to…” It had been Pruett who’d saved her that night. Again. As always. Together, they had put to rest the empty, breathing husks of their friends.

Luca didn’t pick up the pen to take notes, and Touraine was grateful. Even if that did mean she was still holding Touraine’s hand. Maybe because it meant she was. Touraine swallowed. If Pruett could see this now, she would regret ever saving Touraine. Still, a part of her wanted to unclench her fist and let Luca lace their fingers, pen-calloused against baton-calloused. So she pulled her hand away with the excuse of putting her head in her hands.

“I see.” Luca laced her hands with each other instead. “My idea was that I could bring Balladaire something valuable. Something like magic. Something to stop the Withering, or to manage it better when it comes. Sabine—a friend of mine, one of the few—is worried that we’ll be due for another plague soon. My uncle will run, like he did last time. I won’t abandon my people, Touraine. But I also don’t want to come to them empty handed.”

So you’d steal from someone else, just to give it to Balladaire. Touraine didn’t say it, though, didn’t dare. Even if she would never go over to the rebellion, being with them dredged up complaints she had buried, the kinds of things Tibeau went on and on about but she put aside in favor of sanity. She could see the shape of empire in Luca’s words.

“What are they like?” Luca asked. “The rebel council.”

Touraine snorted. “One is an asshole who’s going to wreck every overture you make. The bookseller is kind and Malika is savvy, but it’s the Brigāni woman… She’s the dangerous one.”

“The Brigāni witch that Cantic is hunting.”

“That’s the one.”

“I could use Cantic’s goodwill,” Luca mused. She sighed with disappointment. “Maybe we should stop. Give her their names, root them out, and be done. It would be easier than explaining this to the nobles. And Cantic and my uncle.”

She gestured angrily at what Touraine realized must be Luca’s response to the rebels’ list of demands. She propped her head on one hand and glared at it.

“What do they want?”

Luca scoffed. “Arms, land. For nothing in return. I’m afraid—” She stopped herself and glanced at Touraine, like she was gauging how vulnerable to be. “I’m afraid we’re risking everything to get nothing.”

“What are we risking?”

Luca ticked the risks off on her fingers. “The empire, its trade. My reputation. You.”

The last surprised Touraine, and it showed.

“What?” Luca asked. “You are risking yourself. If they change their minds, they could kill you.”

That cheerful thought had occurred more than once to Touraine herself. Touraine was afraid, too, though. Afraid that she and the others who risked everything would get nothing. That they would suffer no matter what.

All Touraine said aloud was “It’s fine. You’ll make progress.”

“You’re lying.” Luca raised a wry eyebrow. “You can be frank with me.”

Touraine smiled ruefully. It was a pretty thing to say, but it just showed how little Luca understood. She could never tell Luca about all the doubts she had about Balladaire, about Qazāl, even about magic. Luca wouldn’t trust her anymore. She would cut Touraine loose, and then where would Touraine go? So Touraine told just some of the truth.

“I don’t think they trust you,” she said hesitantly. “The Jackal—she’s the asshole—she’ll never be happy with anything you offer, and I don’t know if the rest of the council has her under control.”

As the words sank in, the princess bit her lip like she always did when she was thinking hard. Luca looked between the notes she’d taken and the list of demands.

“Do you think you could soften them for me?” Luca struck Touraine with her sharp blue-green gaze. The small line between her eyebrows deepened. “Because if the magic is real and if they’ll give it to us or teach us or share—if we get access to the magic, we might actually be able to find a middle ground.”

“Those are big ifs, Your Highness.”

Very big ifs.

“We can reach an agreement—I know it.” Luca’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve only ever wanted to be a good queen.”

Touraine scooted back into her seat. She had been sitting on the edge. “I only ever wanted to be Cantic.”

Luca snorted. “I’m shocked.” She was smiling.

Touraine chuckled, and then they were both laughing, and the vise grip around her body was loosening.

“I don’t know what I can be now,” Touraine added. “Anylight, I would have to survive long enough.” She laughed again, but this time it rang false.

“I’ll always need advisors, Touraine. Here and in Balladaire.” They sat close enough that Touraine watched Luca’s throat bob up and down as she swallowed hard. “I would like you to survive that long.”

CHAPTER 19HISTORY LESSONS

The next night, Touraine sought out Saïd and the rebels. Luca’s response to their demands was locked in her mind. None of them could afford to have a paper like that floating around.

This time, she went with an offering. In the new meeting room, more spacious but more sparsely furnished, she spread out fresh flatbread and a bean paste that the street hawker at the food cart said originated in one of the far eastern countries in the old Shālan Empire. Dry black olives, wrinkled and a touch bitter.

The Jackal looked suspiciously at it all. “She’s trying to bribe us.”

It wasn’t a bribe. Not exactly. And it wasn’t from Luca—not exactly. Luca wanted this to work, and Touraine wanted to help. If the Jackal would let them.

“Not a bribe. Just courtesy. You fed me last time.” Touraine ate the first bite, exaggerating the chewing motion.

The Jackal rolled her eyes and