Page 121 of The Second Death of Locke
He sighed. “Spoken by someone who has never really known it.”
She turned in his arms, tracing the line of his healed collarbone. Safety was one thing—but freedom was another.
She realized that with the flurry of activity on the Isle below, the tenuous nature of her position, and the fact that other nations were already petitioning for her hand, she might not find more time alone with Kier.
Perhaps she had already missed her chance to tell him what she’ddone. Perhaps she would never need to tell him at all—but that depended on the choice she still had not made.
“Kier,” she said, her fingers fussing with the curve of the crest on her surcoat. “Would anything change, do you think, if I didn’t have power?”
He laughed. “Did Reggin’s Hand get to your head?” He swept a hand over her hair. “It’s nothing to worry about. You won’t lose your power—it’s an impossibility.”
“But if, say, it happened.”
He rolled his eyes. “It won’t. Itcan’t.”
“But if I chose to give it up—”
Now he looked at her, narrow-eyed. “What are you thinking of?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Grey said, blush heating her cheeks. “It’s just speculation.”
He leaned close, kissing her forehead. “Like I said. It’s nothing to worry about—nothing will happen to your power. I won’t let it.”
She could not meet his gaze.
“Scaelas and Cleoc should be arriving soon,” he said after a moment. “Shall we go receive them?”
“It’s probably best,” she said, pushing away all thoughts of what she was still considering.
She absorbed the changes in her Isle, thelife, as they crossed the paths between the two towns. She was thinking of this when they passed a large stone house in Maerin with carts lined up outside the door. Leaning against one was a familiar figure, making marks in a notebook, her curly black hair secured on top of her head with a spare pencil.
Grey stopped short and felt her heart clench in her chest. “Leonie?”
The medic looked up from her notebook. She was confused for the shortest span of a second before her eyes locked on Grey, then she’d set the notes aside and was walking as quickly as she could into the road. Grey didn’t care for decorum; sheran.
Leonie caught her in her arms. She smelled of herbs and soap and lavender, and Grey buried her face in her neck.
“I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” she admitted.
“Funny,” Leonie said, “because I was explicitly named on your list.”
Grey laughed, pulling back to look her in the face. Leonie had a newly healing scar on the edge of her jaw, straight, from a blade. “I didn’t know you’d have time to get here, after Mecketer.”
Leonie shook her head. “I was moved after the raid, shortly after you left.” She saw something over Grey’s head and her smile grew even wider. “Captain Seward—or Commander now, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Kier said, leaning to kiss Leonie’s hand. “We’re lucky to have you.”
“Ah, better than the last place I was in,” Leonie said. She gently slipped out of Grey’s arms and went back to her list. “It’s good you’re here, actually. For supplies, who do I ask?”
“Um. Me?”
“You’re the High Lady. You shouldn’t worry yourself with trivial matters.”
Grey looked at Kier, but he only shrugged. “Report to me,” she said. “If you come to the fortress and ask for me directly, I’ll make sure they know to admit you.”
Leonie eyed her shrewdly over her notebook. “Be careful who you tell that to, Locke,” she said. “Or else you’ll have everyone in the Isle asking for you.”
Grey rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back when I can,” she promised.
