The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(30)
“Thyra, I swear I didn’t do it!” The lie bursts from me before I can muzzle it.
“So Gry is a liar?”
“She wasn’t even there!”
Thyra rubs her face and lets her arms swing at her sides. “I’m sorry, Ansa. What she described . . .”
I know what she must have described. I left Hulda frozen, her last breath a shred of gray vapor rising toward the trees. Gry must have found her not long thereafter. My handiwork. My curse. “I understand why Gry needs someone to blame.” It’s amazing how one lie builds on another, how once you start, the truth dies a quick death.
Thyra sighs. “I got her calmed down, but Jaspar succeeded in undermining me anyway. He looked like the strong one tonight. And perhaps I deserved that.” She gives me a look full of regret. “I shouldn’t have been so quick to doubt you, Ansa. You’re the one person in this entire world who I know will protect my back. It was ungrateful of me to question.”
“I understand why,” I say. “But I will keep this curse under control.”
“And you will be victorious,” she whispers. “I am so fortunate to have such a warrior at my side.”
I tilt my head up and kiss her forehead, even as my throat constricts with shame. “And the rest of us are fortunate to have a chieftain who respects every Krigere life, warrior or andener.”
“Half of them still think I’m too weak to deserve any respect in return.”
“You’re going to prove them wrong.” I smile. “Come on. Both of us need to rest.” I pause. “I’m still not sure of my sleep,” I admit. “Will you stay next to me?”
She slips her hand into mine. “No one could pry me away.”
There, Jaspar, I think. This is my reward.
Together, Thyra and I walk back down to the fire.
CHAPTER NINE
We wake to a bitter, wet cold that has seeped into our blankets and breeches and clings to our hair in icy droplets. As we pack up just before sunrise and resume our slow progress to the southeast, following the shore of the Torden toward the unknown, I stay near Thyra and work every minute to keep the magic inside.
She was right; with a few hours of sleep, I am calmer, more able to push my thoughts and feelings into neat rows, keeping their jagged edges from thrusting the ice or fire to the fore. I focus on my adoration of her, and how she needs her strength to win allies and make strong decisions. I carry her bundle of possessions on my back, along with my own. She objected when I slid it off her shoulders this morning, but I wanted her to walk unencumbered as she speaks to our warriors, assuring them that we will be respected once we get to Vasterut—or else we will leave to plunder the south. We are not prisoners.
They cast nervous glances Jaspar’s way when she says this. I’m not sure they believe her.
“Jaspar said Nisse is planning his own invasion of Kupari,” Preben says, bowing his head and speaking quietly to Thyra as they trudge up a scramble of rocks, the gulls that follow us circling and diving overhead. “Apparently he’s been repurposing some of the Vasterutian water vessels.”
Thyra laughs. “Water vessels? How much would you wager he’s dealing with half-rotten fishing skiffs? If Vasterut had a force on the Torden, we’d know about it.”
Preben scratches his beard. “Aye, but Nisse’s been in Vasterut for nearly three full seasons, so he could have built at least a dozen longboats, maybe. Depends on whether he’s got Vasterutians working on them too. Jaspar would know.”
Thyra looks out over the Torden as she and Preben reach the top of the rocks. “A dozen boats would be nothing to the witch. Nor would fifty.”
“Sounds like our chieftain is spooked,” Aksel mutters as he falls into step next to me. He’s corralled his bird’s nest of curls with a leather thong, and though the sun and wind have chapped his cheeks, his face is drawn with grief and taut with bitterness. “I for one am eager to slit some Kupari throats.”
“Probably because you were safe at home while the rest of us were fighting for our lives on the Torden,” I hiss.
Aksel’s dark eyes become slits. “I never believed you of all warriors would shy away from a fight. I guess I should, given who you serve.” He glares at Thyra’s back.
Heat runs in rivulets down my arms, all the way to my fingertips, and I suck in a breath of cool air off the lake, fighting my rising irritation and the danger it brings. “It’s not cowardice to reassess your strategy when your enemy turns out to be vastly more powerful than you first believed.” I lean forward, clutching hard on the straps of my bundles. “Not doing so, however, seems like idiocy to me.”
“I’d rather die fighting than wringing my hands and reassessing.”
“Stop arguing like a pair of children,” snaps Thyra.
I look up to find her peering back at the two of us as we descend the rocks. “Apologies, Chieftain.”
Aksel mutters something insolent before echoing my words. Thyra stops right on the trail, forcing the rest of us to do the same. “Aksel, go see if the andeners at the rear of our line need help carrying anything. We’re nearly to noonmeal, and they’re bound to be getting tired. A strong arm will be a relief to them.”
Aksel stiffens at the dismissal, but she’s framed it in a way he cannot refuse without looking like a weak and selfish ass. “Yes, Chieftain,” he mutters.