Fire (Graceling Realm #2) Page 36
Author: Kristin Cashore

But when she stated her case Garan argued that Fire was no sword fighter, and if any of the three proved to be strong-minded she would end up on someone's blade. And Clara did not want the assassin to be a person with no killing experience. 'You'll hesitate,' Clara said today. 'When you see what it really means to stick a knife in someone's chest, you won't be able to do it.'

Fire knew herself to be more experienced than anyone in this room save Archer realised. 'It's true I won'twant to do it,' she responded calmly, 'but when I have to, I will do it.'

Archer was fuming darkly in a corner. Fire ignored him, for she knew the futility of appealing to him -

especially these days, when his attitude toward her ranged from high dudgeon to shame, because her sympathies and her time were tied up with Mila, and he sensed it, and resented it, and knew it was his own fault.

'We can't send a novice to kill three of our most fearsome enemies,' Clara said again.

For the first time since the topic had been broached, Brigan was present in person to convey his opinion.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed. 'But it's obvious she must be involved,' he said. 'I don't think Gentian'll give her much resistance, and Gunner's clever, but ultimately he's led by his father.

Murgda may prove difficult, but we're desperate to learn what she knows - where Mydogg's hiding his army, in particular - and Lady Fire is the person most qualified for that job. And,' he said, raising his eyebrows to stop Clara's objections, 'the lady knows what she's capable of. If she says she'll go through with it, she will.'

Archer wheeled on Brigan then, snarling, for his mood had found what it was looking for: an outlet that was not Fire. 'Shut up, Archer,' Clara said blandly, cutting him off before he even began.

'It's too dangerous,' Nash said from his desk, where he sat gazing worriedly at Fire. 'You're the swordsman, Brigan. You should do it.'

Brigan nodded. 'All right, well, what if the lady and I did it together? She to get them to a private place and question them, and I to kill them, and protect her.'

'Except that I'll find it much harder to trick them into trusting me if you're there,' Fire said.

'What if I hid?'

Archer had been approaching Brigan slowly from across the room, and now he stood before the prince, barely seeming to breathe. 'You've no compunctions whatsoever about putting her in danger,' he said.

'She's a tool to you and you're heartless as a rock.'

Fire's temper flared. 'Don't you call him heartless, Archer. He's the only person here who believes me.'

'Oh, I believe you can do it,' Archer said, his voice filling the corners of the room like a hiss. 'A woman who can stage the suicide of her own father can certainly kill a few Dellians she's never met.'

IT WAS AS if time slowed down, and everyone else in the room disappeared. There was only Fire, and Archer before her. Fire gaped at Archer, disbelieving, and then understanding, like coldness that starts in your extremities and seeps to your core, that he truly had just said aloud the words she'd thought she'd heard.

And Archer gaped back, just as stunned. He slumped, blinking back tears. 'Forgive me, Fire. I wish it unsaid.'

But she thought it through in slow time, and understood that it couldn't be unsaid. And it was less that he'd exposed the truth, and more the way he'd exposed it. He'd accused her, he who knew all that she felt. He'd taunted her with her own shame.

'I'm not the only one who's changed,' she whispered, staring at him. 'You've changed too. You've never been cruel to me before.'

She turned, still with that sense that time had slowed. She glided out of the room.

TIME CAUGHT UP with Fire in the frozen gardens of the green house, where it occurred to her after a single shivering minute that she had a compulsive inability to remember her coat. Musa, Mila, and Neel stood quietly around her.

She sat on a bench under the big tree, great round tears seeping down her cheeks and plopping into her lap. She took the handkerchief Neel offered. She looked into the faces of her guard, one after the other.

She was searching their eyes to see if behind the quiet of their minds they were horrified, now that they knew.

Each of them looked calmly back. She saw that they were not horrified. They met her eyes with respect.

It struck her that she was very lucky in her life's people, that they should not mind the company of a monster so unnatural that she'd murdered her only family.

A thick, wet snow began to fall, and finally the side door of the green house opened. Bundled in a cloak, Brigan's housekeeper, Tess, marched out to her. 'I suppose you intend to freeze to death under my nose,' the woman snapped. 'What's wrong with you?'

Fire looked up without much interest. Tess had soft green eyes, deep as two pools of water, and angry.

'I murdered my father,' Fire said, 'and pretended it was a suicide.'

Clearly, Tess was startled. She crossed her arms and made indignant noises, determined, it seemed, to disapprove. And then all at once she softened, like a clump of snow in a thaw that collapses from a roof, and shook her head, bewildered. 'That does change things. I suppose the young prince'll be telling me, “I told you so”. Well, look at you, child - soaked right through. Pretty as a sunset, but no brain in your head. You didn't get that from your mother. You may as well come inside.'

Fire was mildly dumbfounded. The little woman pulled her under the cloak and pushed her into the house.

THE QUEEN'S HOUSE- for Fire reminded herself that this was Roen's house, not Brigan's - seemed a good place to soothe an unhappy soul. The rooms were small and cozy, painted soft greens and blues and full of soft furniture, the fireplaces huge, the January fires in them roaring. It was obvious a child lived here, for her school papers and balls and mittens and playthings, and Blotchy's nondescript chewed-up belongings, had found their way into every corner. It was less obvious Brigan lived here, though there were clues for the discerning observer. The blanket Tess wrapped Fire in looked suspiciously like a saddle blanket.

Tess sat Fire on a sofa before the fireplace, and her guard in armchairs around their lady. She gave all of them cups of hot wine. She sat with them, folding a pile of very small shirts.

Fire shared the sofa with two monster kittens she'd never seen before. One was crimson and the other copper with crimson markings, and they were sleeping tangled together, so that it was hard to tell which head or tail belonged to which. They reminded Fire of her hair, which was bound now under a scarf that was clammy and cold. She pulled the scarf free and spread it beside her to dry. Her hair slid down, a blaze of light and colour. One of the kittens raised its head at the brightness, and yawned.

She wrapped her hands around her warm cup and blinked wearily into its steam; and found, once she'd started talking, that confession was a comfort to her small and ragged heart. 'I killed Cansrel to stop him from killing Brigan. And to stop Brigan from killing Cansrel, because that would have damaged his chance for any alliance with Cansrel's friends. And, oh, for other reasons. I doubt I need to explain to any of you why it was best for him to die.'

Tess stopped her work, her hands resting on the pile in her lap, and watched Fire closely. Her lips moved as Fire talked, as if she were testing the words in her own mouth.

'I tricked him into thinking his leopard monster was a baby,' Fire said. 'His own human monster baby. I stood outside the fence and watched him open the door of the cage, cooing to it, as if it were helpless, and harmless. The leopard was hungry. He always kept them hungry. It—it happened very fast.'

Fire went silent for a moment, struggling against the picture that haunted her dreams. She spoke with her eyes closed. 'Once I was sure he was dead, I shot the cat. Then I shot the rest of his monsters, because I hated them, I'd always hated them, and I couldn't stand them screaming for his blood. And then I called the servants, and told them he'd killed himself and I hadn't been able to stop him. I entered their minds and made full sure they believed me, which wasn't difficult. He'd been unhappy since Nax's death, and they all knew he was capable of mad things.'

The rest of the story, she kept to herself. Archer had come and found her kneeling in Cansrel's blood, staring at Cansrel, tearless. When he'd tried to pull her away she'd fought against him desperately, screamed at him to leave her alone. For several days she'd been savage to Archer, and Brocker, too, vicious, out of her mind and her body; and they'd stayed with her and taken care of her until she'd come back into herself. Then had followed weeks of listlessness and tears. They'd stayed with her through that as well.

She sat numbly on the sofa. She wanted Archer's company, suddenly, so that she could forgive him for telling the truth. It was time other people knew. It was time everyone knew what she was, and what she was capable of.

She didn't notice herself nodding off to sleep, even when Musa jumped forward to stop her drink from spilling.

SHE WOKE HOURS later to find herself stretched out on the sofa, covered in blankets, kittens sleeping in the tangle of her hair. Tess was absent, but Musa, Mila, and Neel had not moved from their seats.

Archer stood before the fireplace, his back to her.

Fire half sat up and tugged her hair out from under the kittens. 'Mila,' she said. 'You don't have to stay if you don't want to.'

Mila's voice was stubborn. 'I want to stay and guard you, Lady.'

'Very well,' Fire said, studying Archer, who'd swung around at the sound of her voice. His left cheekbone was bruised purple, which alarmed her at first, and then struck her as intensely interesting.

'Who hit you?' she asked.

'Clara.'

'Clara!'

'She whaled me one in return for upsetting you. Well,' he added, his voice dropping low. 'At least, that was the main reason. I suppose Clara has several to choose from.' He glanced at Mila, who'd suddenly taken on the look of a boxer who'd been punched in the stomach one too many times. 'This is awkward.'

By your own doing, Fire thought to him furiously,and your careless words only make it worse. They don't know about each other yet, and it's not yours to reveal their secrets.

'Fire,' he said, his eyes low and dismal. 'It's been some time since I did anyone any good. When my father arrives I won't be able to look him in the face. I'm dying to do something worthwhile, something I needn't be ashamed of, but I don't seem to be capable of it while you're within my view, and not needing me anymore, and in love with someone else.'

'Oh, Archer,' she said, and then stopped, choked up with how frustrating he was. And how funny it seemed, and sad, that he should accuse her of love, and for once in his life be right.

'I'm going west,' he said, 'to Cutter.'

'What?' she cried, dismayed. 'Now? By yourself?'

'No one's paying any attention to that boy and that archer, and I know it's a mistake. The boy's not to be trifled with, and maybe you've forgotten, but twenty-some years ago that archer was in gaol for rape.'

And now Fire was near crying again. 'Archer, I don't think you should. Wait until after the gala and let me come with you.'

'I believe it's you they're after.'

'Please, Archer. Don't go.'