Page 6 of When the Sky Breaks

“And marrying me?” I pressed.

“I believe we could both do far worse.” Neal’s jaw tightened, and he composed his expression so perfectly that I couldn’t identify what emotion he was suppressing underneath.

“I should be inclined to agree with you,” I said, looking him over again. Neal was notably handsome. Curly hair worn unfashionably long—a red brown so dark it was nearly black. His complexion was darker than Glen’s, and I vaguely recalled something about his late mother being from farther south—Sicily maybe? He was broad shouldered, taller than average. A strong nose and striking amber-brown eyes. I could certainly do worse. I could feel a flush building in my cheeks, the anxiety deep in my belly uncoiling and turning into something different, a bubbling warmth that crept down toward my hips.

“This does not need to be a romantic relationship,” Neal said suddenly, cooling the blush and the roiling warmth immediately. “We can remain entirely professional. But I do agree with your father. You need allies, Sorcha. And this is an easy way to get one guaranteed.”

“Go talk to the priest.”

Jeremy, our Inner Court Liaison, was a diminutive man with curly red hair. He looked, and I had always found it amusing, like a proper Christmas Elf from a postcard. Most of us looked human, with the same range of coloring and build. Our lone distinguishing external features were slightly pointed ears, an absence of beards and body hair, and a tendency to have larger, more almond-shaped, and wider-set eyes than the average human.

But Jeremy was pure caricature.

He sat across my desk and dithered, fussing with his black armband and the stack of documents in his lap the entire time he spoke.

“I do hate to leave during such a conflicted time,” Jeremy said. “I did so enjoy working with your father. He even sent me little birthday gifts, which I gather is quite rare. But I must report back to the Lady Iksura in person. And so I am afraid I will have to miss the funeral.”

“We will truly miss you, Jeremy,” I lied through my teeth. “But we understand completely.”

I was glad to be rid of him. After what Neal had revealed that morning about the Inner Court and Iksura’s potential for manipulation and tyranny, I wanted as little contact as possible.

“Now if you wouldn’t mind providing weekly updates by telegram?” Jeremy asked.

“I believe I give the orders here, Jeremy,” I said, voice hardening. It was going to be a challenge to be taken seriously with my age. So I thought it best not to let him get any ideas.

“Of course, High Lady Sorcha,” he said, bowing his head slightly and gripping his black armband like it was a life ring in the ocean. “Of course.”

“Now if you’ll leave me to my work?”

“Of course, High Lady Sorcha,” Jeremy said, getting up now and heading for the door. “Of course.”

Three

Neal

Ifound Sorcha on the porch one night, watching the sky. She seemed to hate being indoors. I’d more than once had to send a guard out to find her after dusk when she’d gone out wandering and lost track of the time.

“Nokona said you’d want this,” I said, ducking through the house’s low doorway and sitting down beside her. I passed her the mug of hot chocolate. Nokona swore she liked it, and that she’d drink it even when she was mostly refusing food, like now.

“Thank you,” Sorcha said. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re out of funeral black,” I noted, looking over Sorcha’s purple-grey linen dress and reaching up to remove my own black armband.

“He’s in the ground,” she said. “We’ve commended his soul to heaven. All that’s left now is to look forward.”

“An admirable approach. Be patient,” I assured her. “You’ll do well. Just give it time.”

“You sound more confident than I feel.”

She looked genuinely distraught, uncertain.

“Do you know what happened at my first apprenticeship?” I asked, leaning back and letting myself relax just a bit. I edged closer to her, noticing not for the first time her soft honey-and-lavender scent, shot through with some warm spice I couldn’t quite pin down. Sorcha shook her head, looking up at me, green eyes bright with interest.

“My da sent me to this lesser noble’s house to train with their Steward. I was eighteen and I’d been studying for six years at this point,” I said, “and I ruined everything. My first day there, he had me doing tedious stuff, trying to teach me that being a Steward isn’t glamorous all or even most of the time. And I get it now. Older and wiser. But then? I was eighteen. And careless. And I broke an entire shelf of wineglasses in one clumsy instant. I spent the next six months inventorying nonbreakable items and didn’t speak to the family once. And look where I ended up?”

“Working the less-prestigious Court with a no-name new High Lady who hasn’t even hit her hundredth birthday?” Sorcha chuckled self-deprecatingly.

“I wouldn’t say less prestigious. I never wanted to work for Iksura. Or anyone at the Inner Court really,” I said. “And we’ll fix that ‘no-name’ issue soon enough.”