Divine Charity

Chapter Twenty Two: Sober Up!

A/N:  Are you guys still with me?

"This is not wise, Lena." Fiadn stood by her side as they waited for the door to Khamuel's grant to open. "Executions do not sit well with him."

Lena ignored him. After justice was served, and the bodies of the injured and dead carried away, Khamuel returned to the dais, lowered Lena to the floor, and walked away without a word. Pnina had been beside herself with worry for her brother, Gala was anxious, hardly eating the midday meal they shared, but it was the sadness in her daughters' eyes that prompted Lena to act.

"See you," Fiadn said, after several minutes of the door remaining closed. "He wishes no audience. It is best if we go."

"I can't believe that asshole locked me out." Lena tried giving the door a shove, but it was solid. With determination, she headed around the side of the grant where another door was locked as well. Lena huffed as she looked up. Only the second floor of the grant sported windows. She went straight to the tree with a low-lying branch that would get her close enough. Fiadn rounded the corner just as Lena pulled herself up onto the first branch.

"Lena, nay!" There was an incredulous laugh in his voice. "You are most daft."

"Shut up, Fiadn. Help me."

"N-Nay," he spluttered, as if it should be obvious he would not help her.

"Chickenshit. Get out of here, then. I got this."

Fiadn didn't leave. He didn't help either. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the grant wall, and watched as Lena struggled to climb the tree in her flowing scarves.

"Charity, pray tell me you are recording this," he chuckled.

"Aye, master Fiadn," Charity said.

Reaching the last branch, she hauled herself level with the window. It was latched.

Fiadn snickered.

Lena shot him a venomous glance, refusing to admit defeat. She pushed her lower scarves away from her leg so she wouldn't get tangled up, drew her knee to her chest, and kicked out with all her might. The sound of shattering glass had Fiadn straightening from the wall and bellowing out a guffaw of incredulity.

"Daft. Bloody daft." His laughter echoed with admiration.

Lena shimmied in through the opening, flipping Fiadn the bird right before she disappeared from his sight. Her feet touched down with a crunch, and it was then she realized that dressing in her scarves was a big fucking mistake! She wasn't wearing shoes!

Glass cut into her feet, and her self-directed anger allowed her to let loose a few curses. She shifted to pull a piece of glass out of her foot and looked around stupidly for a place to step down safely. She totally ruined Khamuel's expensive rug with her blood.

Oh well, served the idiot king right.

Khamuel appeared in the doorway of his office. The look on his face was hard to decipher in its stoicism, but his hands were curled into fists.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Lena said with a scowl. "Now you make your appearance. You know, if you had just answered the door, I wouldn't have had to break in, right?"

Khamuel blinked, noticed the blood on the rug and growled—actually growled at her. He came forward to pluck her up out of the danger area and dumped her into the closest lounger. "Stay."

He left the room only to return with a small box she quickly realized was a first aid kit. Khamuel kneeled before her to examine her wounds. The smell of oldrikke drifted to her, his red-rimmed, glassy eyes giving him away. Despite his drunken state, his hands were careful as he removed the remaining glass, cleaned and wrapped her feet all without saying a word. Leaning back on his haunches, he glared at her.