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

The boat they approached was a narrow thing with a small, furled sail and a pair of paddles. A recent payment to the crown by a merchant whose taxes, Luca found, came up short in Cheminade’s finance records. After double-checking against the financial officer’s records, Luca had issued a polite invitation. Now she had a boat and a few strong-backed Qazāli to convey her across the Hadd.

Lanquette brought up their rear, and Guérin approached the boatmen, her shoulders broad and straight, exuding that no-nonsense confidence she had. It helped, surely, that she was taller than all the boatmen.

At Luca’s other side, Touraine also stood stiff backed, if for a different reason. She had fought Luca all week to reconsider. Like Gil, she had surrendered. They had to understand. Our own birthright. If she restored Balladaire’s own magic, she would be a hero. The rebels’ offers of magic came at too steep a cost when she could find it on her own.

She grabbed Touraine’s arm. “Look at it. It’s so close,” she whispered.

Touraine didn’t flinch at her grip, but the other woman did give her a long look, her question clear: Are you sure? And that was brazen for the quiet, obedient woman.

Luca was certain.

“Come down, madame, come down.” One of the boatmen held a hand out to lead Luca onto the dock. The boat bumped gently against it, still tethered at both ends. Luca hesitated, but Guérin took her hand instead.

“Steady,” Guérin said. She left Luca’s title off for disguise’s sake. Luca had even left her cane at home so it wouldn’t be so obvious what young, three-legged Balladairan had visited the docks.

The dock sang beneath their weight, and Luca yelped in surprise. Sky above. “It’s all right. Just startled.”

“You certain, madame? The Hadd, in it, danger. We warn you.” The boatman looked skeptically between her and the water. He seemed to be the one in charge and spoke to the other men in some kind of patois that wasn’t quite Shālan. His irises had a yellowish cast in the moonlight.

“Yes, I’m sure. It was just a creak.” Luca’s face warmed with embarrassment.

She followed his gaze. Something moved in the river, sleek and glimmering on the surface. Luca forced herself not to jump. “Sky above and earth below.”

“What the sky-falling fuck?” Touraine whispered.

“Luca.” Gil’s voice was soft in her ear. “For the love of your parents’ memories, if not your own good sense, please. Let’s turn back.”

He sounded like the voices in her head, the same ones she’d been debating with for over a month, since her meeting with Bastien. The dark shape swam up the river, south, undulating just below the surface until it disappeared. Gil was right, and he was wrong. Luca’s father would understand; he’d chosen his risks, too. For Balladaire, she would do this.

The boatman with the yellow eyes hopped lightly from the dock into the boat and reached an arm out, beckoning for them.

“Let’s go,” Luca said before she could lose the nerve. “Guérin, you first. I’ll follow. Touraine—”

As Guérin stepped onto the boat with the boatman, Luca reached back for Touraine. Touraine was looking still farther back at Lanquette, who was scanning the empty dock road, back the way they’d come.

Luca cleared her throat. “The sooner we finish, the sooner—” She turned back in time to see the yellow-eyed boatman shove Guérin into the river.

The guardswoman almost caught her balance. Her strong legs, her grace—her quick hands, reaching out for the boatman’s shirt—but the rock and sway of the boat wasn’t usual, and her boot heel caught something on the bottom of the boat. Guérin screamed and disappeared off the far side of the boat with a splash.

Luca startled so sharply that her leg gave out, and she sprawled painfully on the wood. She pushed herself up to her good knee. Behind her, Touraine, Lanquette, and Gil fought with the other boatmen on the dock—and several new shadows. The dock groaned and shuddered with the betrayal of an ambush. The yellow-eyed boatman balanced easily as his craft rocked, staring into the river. Then he turned to Luca.

“You don’t belong here,” he said with a heavy accent. “We don’t bend like Qazāli.”

Luca’s blood ran cold at the threat in his words.

“Help!” she yelled. Touraine, Gil, and Lanquette each turned at the sound of her voice, but it was Touraine who broke away from the fighting on the dock. Luca pointed at the man in the boat. It took only a breath for Touraine to see the boatman and note Guérin’s absence.

The boatman jumped back onto the dock and met Touraine with his bare blade. Luca’s heart pounded in her ears. She felt ridiculous as she crawled to the edge of the dock, staying low, dragging herself across the moss- and mildew-covered wood. Ridiculous, but not useless.

“Guérin!” yelled Luca, searching for the other guard in the churning river.

Pale hands clutched at the near side of the boat, and Guérin pulled her head above water. Relief washed over her face as she saw Luca. The guardswoman was barely a foot away, wedged between the boat and the dock supports.

Luca slithered on her belly and reached. Guérin caught her forearms and soaked the sleeves of Luca’s coat with cold water.

“Up you come.”

Guérin clawed up Luca’s jacket, teeth chattering, hair plastered to her pale face.

Then the guardswoman roared in pain as she was pulled backward into the water by something below. With Guérin’s fingers still knotted in Luca’s sleeves, Luca slid with her along the rough planks, dragged like a doll toward the water. Luca didn’t have time to cry out or to tell Guérin to hold fast. Her heart seized in her chest, and she braced for her own splash.

Guérin let go of Luca’s arms.

“No!” screamed Luca, lunging forward, but a yank on her collar choked her back. Touraine pulled her to the ground, her body heavy over Luca’s, her breath harsh in Luca’s ear, while Guérin