Fire (Graceling Realm #2)(10)
Author: Kristin Cashore

Her mind was on fire. Cansrel. In the light of the flames his hair flashed silver and blue, his eyes blue and beautiful. She stared into those eyes and saw them staring back at her with hatred, anger, because it was Cansrel come back from death and there was no hiding herself from him.

'Kneel,' Archer said beside her, but it was unnecessary, for she fell to both knees.

And then the gates swung shut. The white blaze of the bonfire receded, and all was yellow in the light of the courtyard torches. And still the man on the horse stared at her with hatred, but as the shadows settled it was no longer Cansrel's hatred. His hair was dark, his eyes were pale, and she saw that this was nothing but an ordinary man.

She was shaking, cold on the ground. And now of course she recognised his black mare, and his handsome brother, and his handsome brother's roan. Not Nax and Cansrel, but Nash and Brigan. They swung down from their saddles and stood arguing beside their horses. Shaking as she was, their words came to her slowly. Brigan said something about throwing someone to the raptors. Nash said that he was king, and it was his decision, and he wasn't throwing a woman who looked like that to any raptors.

Archer was crouched over Fire, repeating her name, his hand gripping her face. He said something firmly to the arguing brothers. He lifted Fire into his arms and carried her out of the courtyard.

THIS WAS SOMETHING Fire knew about herself: her mind made mistakes sometimes, but the real traitor was her body.

Archer lowered her onto her bed and sat beside her. He took her cold hands and rubbed them. Slowly, her shivering subsided.

She heard the echo of his voice in her mind. Gradually she pieced together the thing Archer had said to the king and the prince before picking her up and carrying her away: 'If you're going to throw her to the raptors you'll have to throw me as well.'

She caught his hands, and held them.

'What happened to you out there?' he asked quietly.

What had happened to her?

She looked into his eyes, which were taut with worry.

She would explain it to him, later. Right now she was stuck on something she wanted to express to him, something she wanted urgently from her living friend. She pulled on his hands.

Archer always caught on fast. He bent his face to hers and kissed her. When Fire reached to unfasten his shirt, he stopped her fingers. He told her to rest her arm, and let him do the work.

She surrendered to his generosity.

AFTERWARDS THEY HAD a whispered conversation.

'When he came into the courtyard,' she told him, lying on her side, facing him, 'I thought he was my father come back to life.'

Shock broke across his face, and then understanding. He brushed her hair with his fingers. 'Oh, Fire.

No wonder. But Nash is nothing like Cansrel.'

'Not Nash. Brigan.'

'Brigan even less.'

'It was the light,' she said. 'And the hatred in his eyes.'

He touched her face and her shoulder gently, careful always of her bandaged arm. He kissed her.

'Cansrel is dead. He can't hurt you.'

She choked on the words; she couldn't say them out loud. She said them into his mind.He was my own father.

His arm came around her and held her tight. She closed her eyes and buried her thoughts so that all there was was the smell and the touch of Archer against her face and her br**sts, her stomach, her body.

Archer pushed her memories away.

'Stay here with me,' he said sometime later, still holding her, sleepily. 'You're not safe on your own.'

And how odd that his body could understand her so well; that his heart could understand her so well when it came to the truth about Cansrel, but still the simplest concepts never penetrated. There was nothing he could have said more guaranteed to make her leave.

To be fair, she probably would have gone anyway.

Out of love for her friend she waited until he was asleep.

SHE DIDN'T WANT trouble; she only wanted the stars, to tire her so that later she could sleep without dreams. She knew she would have to find her way to an outer window to see them. She decided to try the stables, because she was unlikely to run into any kings or princes there at this time of night. And at least if she found no sky-facing windows there, she would be with Small.

She covered her hair before she left, and wore dark clothing. She passed guards and servants, and of course some of them stared, but as always in this holding, no one bothered her. Roen saw to it that the people under her roofs learned how to guard their minds as best they could. Roen knew the value of it.

The roofed passageway to the stables was empty, and smelled comfortably of clean hay and horses. The stables were dark, lit by a single lantern at the near end. They were asleep, the horses, most of them, including her Small. He stood as he dozed, plain and quiet, leaning sideways, like a building about to topple. It might have worried her, except that he often slept like that, leaning one way or the other.

There was a window to the sky at the far end of the building, but when she went to it, she saw no stars.

A cloudy night. She turned back down the long row of horses and stopped again before Small, smiling at his sleeping posture.

She eased the door open and sidled her way into his stall. She would sit with him for a while as he slept, and hum herself to tiredness. Even Archer couldn't object. No one would find her; curled up as she was against Small's doorway, no one who came into the stables would even see her. And if Small awoke, it would not surprise him to find his lady crooning at his feet. Small was accustomed to her night-time behaviour.

She settled herself down and breathed a song about a leaning horse.

SMALL NUDGED HER awake, and she knew instantly that she was not alone. She heard a male voice, baritone, very quiet, very near.

'I fight these looters and smugglers because they oppose the king's rule. But what right to rule do we have, really?'

'You frighten me when you talk like this.' Roen. Fire pushed herself against Small's door.

'What has the king done in thirty years to deserve allegiance?'

'Brigan—'

'I understand the motivations of some of my enemies better than I understand my own.'

'Brigan, this is your fatigue speaking. Your brother is fair-minded, you know that, and with your influence he does good.'

'He has some of Father's tendencies.'

'Well, what will you do? Let the raiders and smugglers have their way? Leave the kingdom to Lord Mydogg and his thug of a sister? Or Lord Gentian? Preserving Nash's kingship is the best hope for the Dells. And if you break with him you'll start a civil war four ways. You, Nash, Mydogg, Gentian. I fear to think who would come out on top. Not you, with the allegiance of the King's Army split between yourself and your brother.'

This was a conversation Fire should not be hearing, not under any circumstances, not in any world. She understood this now; but there was no helping it, for to reveal her presence would be disastrous. She didn't move, barely breathed. And listened hard despite herself, because doubt in the heart of the king's commander was an astonishing thing.

Mildly now, and with a tone of concession: 'Mother, you go too far. I could never break with my brother, you know that. And you know I don't want the kingship.'

'This again, and it's no comfort to me. If Nash is killed, you'll have to be king.'

'The twins are older than I.'

'You're being deliberately obtuse tonight. Garan is ill, Clara is female, and both of them are illegitimate.

The Dells will not get through this time without a king who is kingly.'

'I'm not kingly.'

'Twenty-two years old, commanding the King's Army as well as Brocker did? Your soldiers would fall on their own swords for you. You are kingly.'

'All right. But rocks, Mother, I hope I'll never be called king.'

'You once hoped you'd never be a soldier.'

'Don't remind me.' His voice was tired. 'My life is an apology for the life of my father.'

A long silence. Fire sat unbreathing. A life that was an apology for the life of his father: it was a notion she could understand, beyond words and thought. She understood it the way she understood music.

Small stirred and poked his head out of his stall to examine the low-voiced visitors. 'Just tell me you'll do your duty, Brigandell,' Roen said, her use of Brigan's royal name deliberate.

A shift in his voice. He was laughing under his breath. 'I've become such an impressive warrior that you think I run around the mountains sticking swords into people because I enjoy it.'

'When you talk like this, you can't blame me for worrying.'

'I'll do my duty, Mother, as I have done every day.'

'You and Nash will make the Dells into something worth defending. You'll re-establish the order and the justice that Nax and Cansrel destroyed with their carelessness.'

Suddenly, and with no humour in his voice: 'I don't like this monster.'

Roen's voice softened. 'Nashdell is not Naxdell, and Fire is not her father.'

'No, she's worse; she's female. She's a thing I can't see Nash resisting.'

Firmly: 'Brigan. Fire has no interest in Nash. She does not seduce men and ensnare them.'

'I hope you're right, Mother, because I don't care how highly you think of her. If she's like Cansrel I'll snap her neck.'

Fire pushed herself into the corner. She was accustomed to hatred. But still it was a thing that made her cold and tired every time. She was tired thinking of the defences she would have to build against this man.

And then above her, an incongruous thing. Brigan reached a hand to the muzzle of her horse. 'Poor fellow,' he said, stroking Small's nose. 'We woke you. Go back to sleep.'

'It's her horse,' Roen said. 'The horse of the monster you threaten.'

'Ah well. You're a beauty,' Brigan said to Small, his voice light. 'And your owner is not your fault.'

Small nuzzled the hand of his new friend. And when Roen and Brigan left, Fire was gripping her skirts in both fists, swallowing an infuriating fondness that she could not reconcile.

At least if he decided to hurt her, she could trust him not to hurt her horse.

CHAPTER SIX

THIS LONG NIGHT was not over, for apparently no one in the royal family slept. Fire had just crossed the courtyard again and slipped into the corridors of the sleeping quarters when she met the prowling king, handsome and fierce in the light of the torches. His eyes glazed over when he saw her. She thought she smelled wine on his breath. When he came at her suddenly, flattened her against the wall, and tried to kiss her, she no longer had any doubt.

He had surprised her, but the wine addling his brains made her work easy.You don't want to kiss me.

Nash stopped trying to kiss her but continued to press himself against her, groping her br**sts and her back. Hurting her arm. 'I'm in love with you,' he said, breathing sour air into her face. 'I want to marry you.'

You don't want to marry me. You don't even want to touch me. You want to release me.

Nash stepped back from her and she pushed herself away, gulping fresh air, smoothing her clothing. She turned to make her escape.

Then she swung back at him and did a thing she never did.Apologise to me , she thought to him fiercely.