The Way We Fall

Chapter 92 (Tigris)

"I'm starting to think your stupidity is spreading." Tigris growled at Roche as the maid helped her shimmy out of her armour, "Honestly, what was Finn thinking?"

"I'm not sure," Roche murmured, surprisingly quiet. Tigris glanced over at her, smirking when she noticed how withdrawn Roche was appearing.

"Don't tell me you're scared of the scribe," Tigris teased, feeling a tiny bit gleeful when Roche glared at her, annoyed.

"I think anyone would be scared when someone threatened the kingdom with misfortune." Roche huffed, narrowing her eyes, "Honestly, what were you thinking? Did you really try swinging your sword at an invisible barrier after you were warned not to?"

Tigris rolled her eyes. Honestly, Roche was such a worrywart. "Come on, you can't trust anything an inkblood says. He was just desperate and trying to say something to throw me off."

Roche raised a brow, holding out a fresh, cerulean gown with golden decals. "Do you really think he was desperate if he had the ability to vanish into thin air?"

Tigris felt a trickle of unease when she realised that she had no good answer. She shrugged as she wriggled into the flowy gown. "I don't pretend to understand inkbloods, Roche."

"There's a surprise," Roche muttered wryly, "The princess not understanding something."

Tigris smacked the back of Roche's head. "Oi! You can't say that about your future monarch!"

Roche scowled, rubbing her head with one hand as she pinned up Tigris' hair with the other. "Yeah, well-" Whatever surly retort she had was cut off by a knock at the door. Roche raised a brow. "Did you forget about a meeting?"

"No. You must have forgotten something on my schedule again." Tigris replied with a flicker of annoyance. Roche really was an incompetent maid sometimes. Tigris sat in front of her mirror, dusting her eyelid with a thin layer of shimmering powder before lining the bottom of her lid. She focused on the liner as the thrum of Roche's gentle voice filled the air. Someone else spoke to her, one of the knights by the sound of the clanking armour. Roche said something else and the door creaked shut.

Tigris looked up as Roche approached, feeling a strange wave of dread when she noticed the sudden pale pallor of the maid's skin.

"Tigris?" Roche squeaked, "There's something you need to see."

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Tigris couldn't believe this.

"Half of it's gone?" she repeated for the millionth time. She stared at the empty woodshack. It was the beginning of winter, the large, brick building should be stacked to the roof with large logs of firewood. It should be so packed that Tigris should barely have room to stand. That was how it had been for the past five winters Tigris had overseen.

But now, the room was strangely empty. A damp, rotten smell permeated through the air, so potent that it made Tigris want to stop breathing. She sucked in small breaths through her mouth as she kicked a lump of wood. Roche squealed slightly when a small colony of worms wriggled out of the rotten mess. The king frowned at her, like the sound irked him more than the missing wood.

"I'm afraid so," the woodcutter ran a hand through his ginger hair, his long beard skimming his chest as he frowned. "It was fine yesterday. I checked this batch myself, there was no rot or bugs or anything."

The king gazed at the mess, "How much remains?"

"Not enough." the woodcutter replied solemnly, "I tried heading into the forest to gather more but the snow's soaked half of the trees. I'd wager that we'll have half the normal amount of firewood that's usable by the end of the day, and that's if no more of it rots."

Tigris had never seen the king look so worried. "That's not enough for the city." he murmured, running a hand through his cropped hair, "See what you can gather in the forest."

The woodcutter bowed his head obediently as Tigris followed her father out of the storage building.

"Perhaps the delegates in Shulta will have extra." Tigris murmured to her father, "They're having a warmer winter than usual, they should have enough to spare."

"It won't come soon enough." the king replied, his icy eyes solemn, "Alert the guards to increase security around the storage facility and assign extra assistants to the woodcutter. We'll need to impose a rationing system until new wood arrives."

"Certainly," Tigris agreed easily, dipping into a curtsy. Her father nodded to her curtly and walked back towards the castle. At Tigris' side, Roche fidgeted nervously, her jubilant features uncharacteristically serious.

"What was that about there being no misfortune?" she asked.

Tigris shoved down her unease. "Shut up, Roche, it's just a coincidence. Wood rots sometimes. It happens. That doesn't mean inkblood's involved."

Roche didn't look like she agreed. Before she could say anything, Tigris elbowed her harshly. "I'll be leading the search for the scribe now. I expect my chambers to be clean by the time I return." She spun away, stalking towards the main entrance to the castle.

The first thing her father had taught her was to never bow to inkblood. She wouldn't let that runaway inkblood's threats cow her.

She'd learned better than that.

A/N: What did you all think of this chapter? Also, we hit 130 reads today! 😮 Thank you all for reading this story, it means the world that there are people read (and hopefully enjoying) Roche and Tigris' adventures :D As always, happy reading!