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“I shouldn’t have allowed him to get that close. I should have been in the room with you.”
“I would have had you wait outside. I wasn’t afraid of him.”
“As soon as he shut the door, I knew.”
“You saved me.”
Jayla’s mouth shaped a word, and Madeleine was sure she was going to say,That’s my job.But instead she answered, “I’m glad.”
Chapter Thirty-two:
Jayla
Jayla was still smoldering with rage and self-recrimination when she went to her room to clean up. The stained clothes she left in a pile to be dealt with later; she wanted to throw them in a heap on the back lawn and set a match to them, but that was wasteful. The housekeeper, she knew, would consider it a sacred honor to wash away the blood that had been spilled to save Madeleine’s life. The clothing would be returned to her in a near-pristine state.
She stripped naked and scrubbed herself clean, giving special attention to her hands. As far as she knew, this was the first time she’d killed a man, though she’d been in some pretty intense skirmishes before and didn’t know how some of her opponents had fared once they disengaged. And she’d meant to kill Benito—she’d kicked down that door intending to take his life. The soft snap of the latch engaging had caught her attention, but she’d hesitated. Possibly Madeleine had agreed that theirs was a conference no other ears should overhear, and she wouldn’t appreciate a clumsy intrusion. But Jayla had crept close enough to lay her hand on the knob, to catch the faint interplay of voices. As long as they were simply talking, no reason to interrupt—
Jayla toweled her hair dry and slipped into fresh clothes, then washed her hands one more time. Her skin felt hot and her blood was moving too quickly through her veins; her peripheral vision seemed to have narrowed down so much she had to turn her head if she wanted to see anything that wasn’t straight in front of her. This was combat adrenaline, she knew, and it might not fade for hours. It could keep pain at bay so long soldiers didn’t realize they’d been dealt a mortal wound until the battle high suddenly faded and they collapsed.
It was similarly useful for keeping horror at bay, at least temporarily.I killed a man.She felt awful enough now. She could hardly imagine how she would feel when realization rushed in upon her in the middle of the night.
The room was too small, and curiously airless. Norrah would surely keep Aussen with her for the rest of the afternoon, maybe into the evening; everyone would realize that Jayla needed space to recover. She stepped into the hall and followed the stairs down two flights, automatically noting which of Reese’s men were on guard. The captain saw her and started her way, but stopped short when she shook her head. No one spoke to her as she pushed through the door and out into the chilly afternoon.
She wanted to run somewhere, to an alley maybe, a dark place with no windows and no one to stare at her. It was, she knew, safe for her to leave the grounds. Every single one of Reese’s soldiers would be on high alert; this would be the one night of the year no one would be able to break in. Still, Jayla couldn’t bring herself to abandon her post. It was as if her act of violence had chained her to this place, made her its eternal guardian. Without her presence, the house would not be safe.
Ridiculous, of course. She pressed her body up against the high fence, her face between a pair of cool bars, her hands wrapped loosely around the metal. She peered out wistfully at the street just past the semicircular drive. If she stepped beyond the gate—if she always stayed within sight of the house, within easy call—
Two private sprinters rattled past, headed south, and a chugger lumbered more slowly north. As soon as the street was clear, she gazed across it, her eyes automatically sweeping the scene for signs of trouble. Her attention caught on a dark, compact shape crouched in front of the fencing on the other side of the gridway. A man, clearly waiting. Her eyes narrowed and her hands tightened on the bars. Then he came easily to his feet, a flash of diamond at his wrist, and she was out the front gate before she had even decided to move.
Fortunately, there were no cars bearing down from either direction, because Jayla didn’t even pause to check before she dashed across the tracks and flung herself at Cody. He caught her with his usual lithe grace, drawing her so close she could smell the soap on his skin. She realized he was murmuring comforting phrases into her ear before she realized she was crying into his shirt.
She couldn’t remember the last time she had wept in someone’s arms, and she knew she shouldn’t be doing it now, and she couldn’t stop herself. He drew her a little farther down the street—not too far, just to the shade of a large tree planted in a neighbor’s yard—and then wrapped his arms even more tightly around her. He was still speaking nonsense phrases. She was still weeping.
But she managed to force out a few words. “How did you know?”
“Tokah was here.”
Jayla frowned, trying to remember. “I thought she left before Benito arrived.”
“You know Tokah. She stayed a few minutes to flirt with the housemaid. Heard all the commotion. Hung around long enough to learn what happened, then ran back to tell me. I’ve been here for the past ten minutes. Wasn’t sure if I should come in. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”
“I would have said no,” she said into his shirt. “If you came to the door. But then—when I saw you sitting there—you were the only person I could think of. In the world. That I could bear to talk to.”
His arms still around her, he pulled her to the ground, and they simply sat there a long time in silence. The ground was chilly beneath her body, and rocky besides, and when a big transport trundled south a few minutes later, Jayla could see a few travelers peering curiously out at them. But she didn’t care about any of it. For a moment—for the first time in longer than she cared to remember—she felt like she had come to rest.
“I killed him,” she said. “I meant to do it and I’m glad he’s dead. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get over it.”
His hold briefly tightened. “I wish,” he said, “I knew something profound to say. To make it all right for you. But I don’t think anything I say would help. I think you’re just going to have to wrestle with it until it makes sense.”
She tilted her head back to look up at him. “It doesn’t change how you think of me?”
He kissed her, which was the reassurance she’d been looking for, of course. “For bringing him down or for agonizing over it?”
She could tell her brows quirked down as she puzzled that over, and he kissed her again. “I’m so proud of you for being able to save her,” he said. “But I love you because you let it hurt you.”
She sighed and rested her cheek against his chest. “I think I’ll get past it. Eventually. But tonight will be hard. I don’t know if I’ll sleep.”
“Come stay with me,” he invited. “I’ll be there any time you wake up.”
