She looked up and caught her father’s expression. “No,” he said.
“What?”
“No brandy, no rum, no gin or whatever you want to put in it.”
Kett scowled.
“Kett, you’re still very fragile,” Nuala scolded.
“I’ve never been fucking fragile in my life,” Kett said, shoving back her chair and getting to her feet, suddenly monstrously irritated. “I’m going to go check on Jarven.”
“I looked in on him five minutes ago,” Angie said, ducking her gaze shyly. “He’s fast asleep.”
“Well then, I’m going to go check on the others.”
“They’re being taken care of,” Nuala assured her.
“Well-I’m just going to go and-be somewhere else,” Kett snapped, stalking off as fast as her bad leg and her woozy head would let her.
Her father caught up to her outside the breakfast room door. “Kett, she’s only looking out for your best interests.”
“I know.”
“Don’t be rude to her.”
“Oh fuck off. If I ever stopped being rude I’d probably be dead.”
“If you don’t get some rest you may well be,” Tyrnan shot back.
“Fuck off.”
“Now there’s my little girl.”
She glared at him. “I was never your little girl.”
Tyrnan raised his eyebrows. “Sure you were, I just didn’t know about you.”
“Great father you were.” She started toward the stairs, her leg aching abominably. The tiny sensible part of Kett, buried deep inside, told her she should probably borrow a cane to lean on. The rest of her said she’d have to lose a leg to be so desperate.
Tyrnan followed at the same slow pace. “Come on, Kett, what’s brought this on?”
“Nothing. I’m just…look, I’m sorry, but I’ve been having a pretty shitty few days, in case you hadn’t noticed, and…oh hell, say sorry to Nuala for me, will you?” she added guiltily.
“She won’t mind. You wanna talk about it?”
Kett shot him an incredulous look. Her father looked horribly embarrassed, but at least he was trying.
“No,” she said, and he visibly relaxed. “But you know what I do want to talk about? How Bels and Eithne have swords and crossbows and stuff, and know how to use them.”
He shrugged. “It’s a tough old world. They should be able to defend themselves.”
“Against what? They never leave the house without bodyguards.”
Tyrnan drummed his fingers on the stair rail as Kett started her slow ascent. “Look, if you really want to know, they asked to learn. They said they wanted to be like you.”
Kett stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m halfway up a flight of stairs,” she grumbled.
“Sorry. It’s true though.”
She stared blindly at the neat edge of the carpet covering the marble steps. Beyla and Eithne wanted to be like her? “But-why?”
“Well,” Tyrnan took her arm and started helping her up the stairs, “I don’t recall exactly, but it was sometime after you beat up your husband. Apparently they found that impressive.”
“He deserved it,” Kett said vaguely.
“Yeah. That’s what they found impressive.” He sighed. “Look, Kett…I know I treat them differently than how I treated you, but…well, finding out he has a teenage daughter can bloody terrify a man. I didn’t do things very right with you, did I? I wanted to do better with them. Wanted to stop them making mistakes like-uh-”
“Like I did?” Kett supplied dryly.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m proud of you and all, but I really wish you’d stop nearly getting yourself killed. And while I think you dealt with the cheating husband admirably, I’d kind have liked it better if you hadn’t married the bastard in the first place. You deserved better.”
“Thanks for telling me so at the time,” Kett said, still mulling over the “proud” bit with some astonishment.
“Would you have listened?”
She glanced at him, saw his half smile and returned it. “Look, just go easy on them, okay? They’re grown-ups now. Let Eithne marry her garda. He’s a good kid.”
“But he is just a kid.”
“Do I have to remind you how old you were when I was born?”
“Yes, but that was-” He saw her expression and said quickly, “Er, unplanned. I just want her to be safe and happy.”
“And not thrown in jail for nearly killing her cheating, lying, scum-sucking weasel of a husband,” Kett said.
“Exactly.”
“Well, if he cheats, I’ll kill him for her. How’s that?”
“I’d really rather prefer it if all my kids could stay out of jail in the future,” Tyrnan said despairingly.
“In that case, I’ll make it look like an accident.”
He smiled at that, and she smiled back and patted his arm, releasing herself from his grip as they got to the top of the stairs. “Dad, she’ll be fine. And yes, I did just call you Dad. Try not to faint and fall down the stairs, I ain’t coming after you.”
Tyrnan laughed, shaking his head. “Where are you going?” he asked as Kett turned to go.
“Really ought to talk to Bael.”
“Should be fun.”
She grimaced.
“Want me to come with you?”
She stared.
“All right, okay, I just thought I’d ask,” her father said, holding up his hands defensively.
“He’s probably still asleep. But if you hear anyone screaming, then you can intervene.”
“Never a dull moment, eh Kett?”
“No,” she sighed. “I like dull moments. They’re peaceful and quiet and people aren’t trying to kill me.”
He moved to ruffle her hair, she ducked and started away.
“Hey, now your sisters are trying to be like you, does this mean you’ll start being like them?” Tyrnan called after her.
Kett flipped him the finger and walked away to the sound of his laughter.
As she rounded the corner, the scryer at her belt vibrated. She picked it up and the shiny face resolved to show Chance, beautiful as ever, riding through the snowy Peneggan countryside. Her cheeks were pink and her hair streamed pale and glossy from beneath a fur-trimmed hat.
Just looking at her made Kett feel fresh from that tower cell.
“Kett! Should you be out of bed?”
Kett scowled. “I’m fine,” she said. And before her cousin could chastise her, added, “Where are you?”
“A few hours away. How’s your young man?”
“Will everyone stop calling him my young man? He’s at least the same age as me,” Kett snarled.
“He’s alive, at least,” Chance said calmly.
“How do you know?”
“Darling, I always know.” Before Kett could tell her how damn annoying that was, Chance added, “We’ll be there tonight. Striker’s coming in too.”
Kett groaned. “Why?”
“I asked him to.”
“Why?”
“He can be very useful, darling. He probably knows exactly what’s going on, if we can get him to spill the details.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Kett said. On top of everything else, she had to deal with Striker.
Bael dreamt of Kett in a cell, bloody and emaciated. Her head lolled, her eyes dull, and her bones protruded through her skin. Her flesh seemed to shrink as he watched, turning gray and then green, rotting away from her bones. Her eyeballs popped. Her lips peeled back in a fleshless grin.
“Kett…” He reached for her but as his fingers touched the stone-cold flesh of her shoulder, it crumbled like ancient brick.
Horrified, Bael leapt back, but her whole body had turned to stone now, a statue lying on the floor. “Kett!” he cried, and reached out to her again, but the statue crumbled, turned to dust and scattered.
Symbols danced on the edge of his vision, flickered and faded, but when he turned his head to see them they flitted away.
“Kett,” he mourned, and the dust on the floor blew away in a sudden breeze. “Kett!”