Venture Unbroken

by R. H. Russell

  “What a surprise.”

  Jade sighed. “We have bigger concerns than my dress.”

  “Yes, we do. What the blazes am I supposed to do here, Jade? Everyone saw me kiss you. If they know there’s no courtship, then—”

  “I’m a hopeless strumpet.”

  “This is serious. I can’t act as if I’m courting you if your father’s saying otherwise, or not saying anything at all. And I can’t exactly talk to him about it here.” He shook his head at himself. “I’m sorry. That kiss . . . it was a stupid thing to do.”

  She reached for his hands and laced her fingers between his. “Venture Delving, how can you possibly be sorry about that kiss?”

  He laughed softly. “I guess I can’t. Not completely.”

  “You do remember telling me once that you could take a beating if I could handle a soiled reputation.” She ran her fingertip around one of his chafed knuckles. “You held up your part of that bargain today. You’ve been through enough. I can handle them.”

  “I was a stupid, cocky kid when I said that.”

  “You were sweet and brave.”

  “I’ll never forget that night. But it didn’t exactly end well, did it?”

  Jade blinked back the memories. She’d gotten Venture a chance at this—his dream. But she’d also broken his heart and damaged his tenuous relationship with his brother, his only family. “I was the stupid one that night. There had to be another way.”

  He squeezed her hands. “That’s not what I meant. I want to be able to make things right, eventually. And now, how can I?”

  Jade withdrew her hands from his and put them on her hips. “How can you care what he thinks right now?”

  “He’s your father.”

  And he was the closest thing Venture had to one, for a long time. Which was why she couldn’t forgive him for what he was doing to Venture, to both of them.

  “This is ridiculous. You should be resting, or at most celebrating with your friends at Regal’s. Not tiptoeing around the truth and trying to put on a good show for a bunch of people who resent you.”

  “Venture Delving!” A middle-aged man clapped his hand on Venture’s arm, and for an instant he looked like he was going to be sick from the surge of pain.

  “Sir,” Jade said, “Mr. Delving was wounded today in the arena.”

  “Oh. Yes, of course he was. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Venture said. A mask of confidence covered the pain.

  Venture made small talk with the idiot for a bit, and then the man excused himself. There were plenty of furtive glances at the young champion, but Dasher, who’d moved into position between them and the rest of the party-goers, seemed to be keeping them at bay somehow.

  Jade nodded at Dasher. “He should take you home. They’re all waiting to devour you.”

  Venture’s hand slipped around her waist, nudging her closer. “I want to be . . .”

  I want to be devoured by you. Was she only imagining that was what he’d begun to say?

  “ . . . here, with you,” he said instead.

  He brushed his other hand along her cheek. As he grinned, the shadow of a bruise made his dimple appear even deeper.

  Then his eyelids fell shut, the smile vanished, and his body swayed.

  “Vent!” she whispered, grabbing his arm. His eyes flashed wide open with pain. “Sorry.” She clamped her arm around his waist instead.

  He stumbled backward, and she went with the motion, pushing him closer to the wall. Dear God, he was heavy.

  “Jadie . . .” The word came out slurred.

  “Shh.”

  His back was against the wall. She used all her weight, all her strength, to keep him there. She scanned the crowd for Dasher, even for her father. But Venture had purposefully led her as far away from Father as he could, and Dasher had turned his back to their corner.

  Jade slid her free hand up to touch Venture’s cheek. She gasped. It was hot, and damp with sweat, too. It’s just nerves, she told herself. And exhaustion. If she could just get some nourishment in him . . .

  She spotted a full wine glass, abandoned on a side table. Shouldering him against the wall, she stretched out her hand. Her fingertips grazed the glass. Just a little bit farther—

  As she reached, his body went limp. He fell against her and bumped her into the side-table. The large, antique Illesian vase on the table wobbled, but Venture jolted back up, catching his balance. He braced his hand against the wall. Jade let go of him to steady the table, then grabbed the wine glass. Still wary of him crashing into the table, she nudged him back, away from it.

  “Vent?”

  “Hm?”

  “Have a drink. Come on.”

  He wrapped his hand over hers, around the stem of the glass. It felt strangely clammy. He took a sip, straightened up, and stared at her almost clearly for a second.

  “I’m okay. Really.” He pulled the glass away from her and took another drink.

  “I’ll get Dasher and have him take you back to Regal’s.”

  Jade turned to find Dasher. Behind her, glass shattered on the polished stone floor. She spun around and kicked a shard of the wine glass away from Venture’s hand. He’d crumpled to the floor next to the puddle of red wine.

  Jade grabbed his lapels and yanked him to a sitting position. He blinked at the mess of wine and broken glass.

  “Blast,” he said, too loudly, “I look like a drunk.”

  Jade bit back a curse. Gasps, whispers, and Border Wisecarver’s distinctive laugh stung her ears. In one motion, Dasher reached her side and replaced her as Venture’s crutch. He half-carried Venture to the nearest chair and lowered him into it.

  “Curse Felsan. He’s burning up.”

  “Did you bring Chance?”

  Dasher shook his head grimly. “Champ wouldn’t have it. Said the kid needed to rest.”

  A familiar figure was working his way forward, through the murmuring crowd. Her father.

  “Champ?” Dasher said quietly.

  Venture opened his eyes halfway. “Dash?”

  “Come on. Time to go.”

  Venture did what he could to rise. Dasher supported him on one side, and then Father ducked in, lifting up the other. His usually cool green eyes burned with anger, at who exactly, Jade couldn’t tell. He’d seemed like a stranger to her ever since he’d found out about her and Venture.

  Border edged to the front of the crowd. He shook his head knowingly. “He always did like his wine a bit too much. The weakness runs in the family.”

  Jade leaped in front of his bobbing, spiky head. The whole party was watching, listening. “What did you say?”

  “I . . . ah . . .”

  “The wine,” she said through gritted teeth, “was mine. That man didn’t just fight for the title today; he fought for his life. And now he’s fighting a fever.”

  “Wisecarver,” Commander Huff snapped, “give them a hand. Come on, Grant, that’s a job for a young back.”

  Father straightened up under Venture’s weight and reached out to push Border back. “No,” he said. “Thank you. Come, Jade. Let’s get him back to the inn.”

  “Shall I send for a healer?” Commander Huff said.

  “Yes,” Dasher said, before Father could refuse. “Have him meet us there.”

  Jade fought back tears of worry and frustration as she followed the men out. Border had shifted from utterly fictional comments about Venture’s family, to a new line of barely concealed insults, a poison of implications made potent with a trace of truth.

  “I attended Beamer’s Center with Delving when he was young. Miss Fieldstone was there nearly every day, too. She was very popular around the center. We boys were always happy to see her.”

  Jade whirled around, ready to pound Border’s pointy head flat. Face to face with him, she composed herself enough to form her would-be punch into a still powerful, but more ladylike slap. But when Border bobbed away from the blow, her training took over, in the form of a
one-two punch. First the kidney, then the eye.

  “You,” she said, her voice trembling with rage, “Were never happy to see me. And if Venture finds out about this, you’ll be lucky to see another day.”

  Chapter Three

  The afternoon sun blazed into Venture’s face. He blinked at it. Where was he? Regal’s. He recognized the window in their room, the thin drapes billowing in the breeze.

  “I told you we should have hung a blanket over it to block the light. It’s waking him up,” Dasher said in a hushed whisper.

  “He would’ve smothered in this heat,” Earnest argued.

  Venture was drenched in sweat, but a cool cloth rested on his forehead and ice was packed around both of his arms. He groaned and tried to sit up. One of the ice packs fell to the floor.

  Earnest handed him a glass of water. He drained it and held it back out for more. Venture blinked at the sunlight as Earnest reached for a pitcher set on a chair at his bedside. He’d broken the bedside table before the Championship, trying to drill with Dasher. The Championship. He’d won it. And then what?

  He remembered a party. The softness of Jade’s cheek under his hand, wanting to say things to her that he shouldn’t, do things with her that he shouldn’t. Jade must have noticed his fever and had Dasher take him back to the inn.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Venture took another drink.

  “In and out for two days, Champ.”

  “Your wound’s not infected, but you wore yourself into the ground. It’s no wonder you got sick.”

  Venture emptied the glass again and rose. His friends regarded him warily, ready to catch him.

  “I’m all right. I feel better. I just need to eat.” And two days was too long. He had business to take care of.

  Venture washed up and slipped into his favorite, most comfortable pair of pants, the ones he preferred to wear when traveling.

  “That what you’re wearing out, Champ?” Dasher asked as he laid his own good shirt out on the bed.

  “We’re not going out,” Earnest snapped. “He still needs to rest.”

  “Getting out of this room for an hour or two will do him good.”

  Venture avoided their eyes. “I thought we’d have just a quiet meal, the three of us, then pack up and head back.”

  “Head back? Today?” Earnest said.

  Venture shrugged. “We’ll have a good six hours of daylight left after we eat and pack up.”

  “Come on,” Dasher said, “Let’s stay for a few more days. You can relax. Maybe even celebrate just a little bit. That party hardly counts.” Dasher took on a more serious tone, and the shadows of guilt over what his fellow Cresteds had done at the Championship crept over his face. “You worked hard for this. This is your victory. You should enjoy it, the way you would’ve . . .”

  Venture knew what Dasher couldn’t bring himself to say—that he should enjoy it the way he would’ve if he hadn’t nearly died securing that victory.

  “Champ, we have to be careful, but you can’t hide from them. You can’t live like that. And whatever plans they had for you in that arena have either been played out or ruined by us. They’re careful people. They’ll take their time coming up with something else. Besides, the inquiries have them all playing it safe for now.”

  Venture didn’t know about that. Will Fisher wasn’t well enough to talk. And knowing him, he never would.

  “It’s not that, Dash. It’s just . . . I’ll celebrate in Twin Rivers, after I deal with Grant Fieldstone.”

  “You should sleep another day,” Earnest said, “but I guess if we leave now, at least we’ll be able to get your arm looked at sooner.”

  “Right,” Venture said, though his arm was one of the last things on his mind.

  Venture ran his thumb and swollen forefinger over the old, smooth wood of his pendant, then dropped it under his shirt. A portion of his prize money weighed heavily in his buttoned pocket, against his leg. Shining, never-spent coins. The sum he owed Grant. Once his debt was paid, surely this sense of being weighed down would go away. His mother, rest her soul, would forgive him for breaking that contract. He’d truly be a free man.

  #

  Venture motioned to Chance to stay put, then soundlessly eased the washroom door open and slipped inside. He paused, listening to the servant women chattering in the adjoining kitchen.

  “He’s here. He’s going to do it,” Connie was saying.

  “Are you sure?” Marina said.

  Mrs. Bright just said, “Oh, my.”

  “I saw him. It was Dauntless of the Glen’s carriage, and it was that boy of Venture’s driving. He matched the mistress’s description perfectly. I’m sure of it.”

  “Connie, run and tell the mistress, quick!” Mrs. Bright said.

  “And spoil the surprise?” Venture pronounced from the kitchen doorway.

  Mrs. Bright gasped, Connie and Viney screamed, and Marina yelped.

  “Venture!” Mrs. Bright scolded him. “What’re you doing coming in that door? Come in the front like you ought to.”

  “I know, I know. Don’t worry. I’ll do it right. I just want to introduce you girls to my friend Chance first.”

  Venture beckoned to Chance, and the kid stepped out from behind him.

  “His driver. I am his driver. And valet and—”

  “Yes, a man of many talents, and employed by me, but also my friend, Chance Morninglight.”

  There was a chorus of pleased to meet yous. Venture hugged Mrs. Bright and gave them all a proper greeting.

  “Vent.” Mrs. Bright put a hand to his still-bruised jaw and looked into his eyes, her own filling with tears.

  “Just bruises,” he assured her.

  “I heard you were cut. That you almost—”

  “A few stitches, that’s all. And everything’s been taken care of. Fisher’s locked up.”

  Her look sharpened, as though she could see in his face that the reports in the papers, about a lone man out for vengeance, didn’t tell the whole story.

  But she kissed his cheek and smiled anyway. “We’re so proud of you, Vent. Master will be too, in time.”

  Venture nodded, though he wasn’t so sure.

  “I’ll come back around and get you when I’m done here, Chance.”

  “Don’t worry about this one,” Mrs. Bright assured him. “We’ll fatten him right up.”

  “Good. And could you keep the chatter down, ladies?”

  “Yes, Vent, we’re sorry,” Connie said.

  “Sorry, Mr. Delving,” Marina said. Strange how somber she sounded now that he was a free and wealthy man, and soon to be the suitor of their mistress.

  “And no telling the mistress.” Venture wagged a warning finger at Viney.

  “Vent! That’s just cruel!”

  “Or telling Chance any crazy stories about when I was little!”

  “Oh!” Mrs. Bright gave a cry of protest.

  He went out the way he’d come, and Lightning came leaping at him, scattering the chickens in his path for him. In her excitement, she also left a dusty paw print on his pant leg.

  “Down you go, girl.” He bent down and scratched her neck. “Did you miss me, Lightning? I know you did, but I have to go. Miss Jade’s been missing me too.” He rose and brushed at his pants. “Paws off now. Good girl.”

  Lightning trotted happily at his heels, and he didn’t have the heart to order her not to follow.

  I’m Jade’s choice, he told himself as he straightened his collar. She picked me. It sunk in, on the way from the back of her father’s house to the front. He stopped. His hands were shaking. Why? He felt like laughing, he was so happy, but at the same time he thought, How ridiculous is this, that Venture Delving the servant boy thinks he can come back here and court Jade Fieldstone? It does matter who I am. It matters to a lot of people. Especially her father.

  “Hey there, Vent.” Able’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “Look at you. Just like a gentleman. Of course you are one now. Except for t
hat chicken dung there.”

  Venture followed Able’s twinkling eye down to his boot. He laughed nervously and found a rock to scrape it on. Then he stopped short. “You don’t think she’s watching, do you?” He glanced at Jade’s window.

  “If she is, she’s having herself a good laugh.”

  Venture eyed Able. He hadn’t heard so much out of his mouth at once since he was a small boy, and it was just the two of them, either working side by side or resting in their servants’ quarters.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Delving,” Able bowed his head, misunderstanding the look. “Just trying to ease your mind. Don’t know when I’ve seen you nervous like this.”

  “I’m no more used to being a gentleman than you’re used to seeing me play one.”

  “But that’s what you’ve got to be. The mistress loves you.”

  “I was a bold man five minutes ago, but now that it’s time to do this, I’m just . . .”

  Able clapped him on the back. “You know what you have to do. Put your match face on. I’ll leave you to it.”

  Venture set himself right. He strode up the front walk and stood on the stoop, facing the doors that had been carved for Jade’s grandmother, in the shape of a rose. He reached out his hand, but before he lifted the knocker the doors opened and he was greeted by Frank, an older man Grant had hired shortly after getting rid of the Bakers.

  “Venture Delving, to see Mr. Grant Fieldstone, please,” Venture said, as though it wasn’t obvious.

  Frank smiled. “Yes, Mr. Delving. He’s expecting you. Right this way, please. He said to bring you directly to his office.”

  Grant didn’t get up from his desk, didn’t greet him. He just pointed at one of the chairs opposite him.

  Venture sat down.

  “I suppose there’s something you came to ask me.”

  “Sir,” he said carefully, “I understand that since I was a runaway bondsman, the time I owed you is to be doubled. I’m prepared to pay twice the price you gave me before for my freedom.” He removed the bag of carefully counted coins and placed them on the desk.

  “And what will you do then?”

  “I’ll keep training, and I’ll defend my title next year.” If there is a title to be won next year. If my arm ever works again.