Page 157 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
“Come back to bed, my love, and you’ll find out.”
CHAPTER 107
Ivy peeked into Eris’s office. He was surrounded by ledgers and books piled on his desk and a dozen messages already sealed with wax, waiting to be delivered. “Sorry to interrupt you, Counselor. There’s a recruit outside. She says she needs to see you?”
“Now is not a good time. Can’t she—”
“She says it’s important. It concerns the Butcher of Celwyth.”
Eris set his quill down. Recruits came to him often, usually wanting news of their family or wanting to send a message, but this time it was news of a different kind—news that piqued his interest. “I have a few minutes.”
Ivy ushered her in and left, and Eris listened silently, trying to show no surprise as she shared what she had learned—the possible whereabouts of Kierus.
“I thought I should come to you. After what he did to Bristol with the tick and then abandoning her. She’s so upset. I hate seeing her this way. And then of course, what he did to the king is unthinkable. . . .” She paused, hugging her arms to her chest. “I was afraid he might do something else, something worse, and I don’t want either of them to be hurt again. And with the Choosing Ceremony so close, he might jeopardize everything.” A shaky breath rattled her chest. “Was it right for me to tell you?”
No doubt Bristol had told her this information in confidence, but Eris nodded, because it was information he wanted—and needed. If their friendship was shattered because of this breach, so be it. Maybe this would finally bring Tyghan the resolution he needed. “You did the right thing. But we’ll keep this information just between us, all right?”
Rose nodded, the worry fading from her face, and Eris walked her to the door.
CHAPTER 108
The rampage in her room hadn’t brought Bristol the relief she sought. Neither had hurling cruel words at Tyghan. She felt as desolate and lost now as when she turned her back on her father in the barn.
She hesitated outside Julia’s door. It was late, but she tapped lightly anyway.
Julia was still shrugging a long floral robe over her gown when the door opened. “Bri, what are you doing here?”
“Do you know anything about healing?” And then she fell into Julia’s arms. She didn’t cry. She just held on to Julia like she was all the people in her life she couldn’t be near, people who were too far away, too lost, too angry. Too impossible to be with.
When she ushered Bristol inside and closed the door, the tears came. A gentle shuddering at first, and then sobs like she was mourning a death, like a part of her was dying. And Julia held her.
When the tears were spent, Julia tucked Bristol into an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and examined her hand.
“Rest here while I prepare a few things.”
The first of those things was to pour them each a glass of wine. “It is the French way,” she explained with a heavier accent than usual. “The mood must be set.”
“For healing a thumb?”
Julia smiled as she gathered balm and bandages. “Even for that. How did you know about me? Did you see me heal my own wounds?”
“No,” Bristol answered, sipping her Bordeaux, wondering how Julia came by French wine in Elphame. “But I never saw Esmee or Olivia treat you, and your cuts and bruises still magically disappeared. Why would you keep it a secret?”
“Every woman should have a few secrets.” She shrugged. “An arsenal as needed.”
Bristol winced as Julia pressed on the fleshy part of her thumb. “Cracked, but luckily not shattered. How’d this come about? I hope the council didn’t—”
“No, I did this fully and stupidly on my own. I declared war against a heavy wardrobe door, and the door won.”
“Your meeting went that badly?”
“Worse. I unraveled. All my calm and cool went out the window. Ugly things were said to me. I said them back. I made demands. I wanted to hurt them. I wanted—” Bristol shook her head. “I really don’t know what I want anymore. It was a mistake to ever come here.”
“Because you learned the truth? Isn’t that what you came for? Was the doubt better?”
“Maybe,” Bristol answered, and felt the lie of it instantly. She shook her head. “No. The doubt was suffocating me. The unseen threat hovering over our heads for all those years—I couldn’t take it anymore. Not for me or my family. I couldn’t move forward.”
“And just what does moving forward mean for you now?”
