The Way We Fall

Chapter 60 (Roche)

This time, Roche enjoyed the months without danger and didn't take any of them for granted. She ran errands for Verita and roamed the library, broadening her range of incantations every day. She practised quietly, just under Tigris' nose for mundane tasks like heating her bath, cleaning the floors, or doing the bed. It definitely made chores easier, despite how Verita scolded her for carelessly using her inkblood to serve her needs.

But Roche needed the time. She'd been learning far more protective incantations and some offensive ones as well, especially those that worked against creatures of inkblood and inkblood itself.

It would be uncomfortable to use, like trying to stab a brother, but Roche couldn't forget how the Atrex had made her freeze up. She couldn't be caught defenseless again, for Tigris' sake.

Because that was her destiny.

To protect the biggest brat to ever exist.

"Make sure my armour's been polished and my chainmail is cleaned. The knights and I will be going on a patrol this afternoon. Oh, and sharpen the armoury's weapons, the knights need to train for the upcoming tourney." Tigris listed off the tasks as Roche helped her into her gown. Roche took pleasure in tugging the corset strings tight. Tigris grunted, her eyes narrowing. "Loosen that."

"Of course, my lady. Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Tigris' jaw clenched at the sarcastic use of her title. "Scared to do a little polishing, Roche?"

"'Course not." Roche grumbled, "I hate the polishing oil. It smells foul."

"A bit like you, then."

"Hey!"

Tigris chuckled lowly, her lips curling with a half smile. She turned around to face Roche. "Since you've taken it upon yourself to be cheeky, I'd also like you to ensure the stables are mucked out before we ride out, make sure my room's been cleaned, and polish the knights' weapons."

Roche deeply regretted her previous sarcasm. She bit her lip. "Oh, is that all?"

"Would you like more?" Tigris arched a brow, amusement twinkling in her eyes.

Roche scowled.

Tigris' grin widened.

"I hate you." Roche muttered under her breath, gathering the princess' laundry. Tigris was already halfway out the door.

"And for that, make sure Aodh's chambers are cleaned too!" Tigris called over her shoulder.

Yep. Roche should have known better than to be cheeky. She sighed and got to work, her back already beginning to ache.

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Roche reeked of polishing oil. On the bright side, Tigris' armour gleamed impressively as she sat atop her noble steed, cantering into the forest.

The bad news was, Roche smelled so terribly that even the knights wanted to give her a wide berth. So Tigris had insisted that Roche follow them downwind, at the back of the patrol. She'd received dirty looks from all of the knights for tagging along.

Roche glared at the back of Tigris' head from her spot at the back of the patrol. She was so busy stewing in her misery that she almost didn't notice the mysterious silence that had descended over the forest.

Tigris' face instantly shifted. She held up her hand, immediately drawing the knights' chatter to a stop.

"My lady? What is it?" one of the knights murmured. Their hands drifted close to their weapons.

A loud rustle from a thick knot of bushes answered him. Immediately, Tigris had her sword out and pointed at the shrubs.

"Who goes there?" Tigris boomed authoritatively.