The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(43)

I scoff. “So he’s telling you lies about me out of gratitude? Of course. Why didn’t I guess?”

“Ah. You’re denying even though you don’t yet know what he said. Interesting.”

I start to walk back toward our horse. “If this is why you brought me here, we’d best get back. I’m not clever enough to play your game.”

He catches my arm as I pass. “He said the witch queen did something to you, and that you’re trying to hide it,” he says, holding tight as I try to jerk my arm away. When I reach for my knife with my other hand, he grabs my wrist. “Hear me out! Please!” he says as I take a step back to slam my knee into his groin.

“I’m not hiding anything,” I say, my voice barely more than a growl.

“Remember what I said about your prowess at deception?”

I stop struggling as the ice creeps up over my shoulders, as it starts to reach for Jaspar. My nostrils flare as I draw a deep breath. Concealing Aksel’s death was one thing, but if I kill Jaspar, our entire tribe will be slaughtered to pay for the affront. “Fine,” I tell him. “Let me go, and I’ll talk about it.”

He releases my arms but stays close. “That’s all I wanted.”

“When we made it back to shore after the witch-made storm, I began to have dreams. Terrible dreams.”

Jaspar stares down at me. “And?”

“And—that’s it.”

“Sander said you were struck by lightning on the Torden and survived.”

“It’s a miracle any of us survived that journey home.”

“He said you caused two shelters to burn.”

“Yes. At night. When my tortured flailing must have knocked a burning ember or log from the fire.”

“Sander thinks you created the fire.”

With everything inside me, I focus on the sincerity of my words. “I did. By sleeping too close to it, apparently, and scattering cinders over sleeping blankets.”

“He told me that you attacked him, and your touch was so cold it burned his skin.”

I shake my head. “Like all of us, Sander is trying to make sense of what happened, and of what the witch has done to our tribe. Do you really believe I can create fire and ice at a whim? What kind of witchcraft would that be?”

“The useful kind,” Jaspar says simply.

My mouth drops open. “Is that how they think in Vasterut? Because among our people, witchcraft is only useful for getting oneself stoned and speared in the fight circle. And maybe that’s Sander’s goal, to see me defeated that way.”

“It’s not, Ansa. He only wants to understand what he’s seen, to keep his tribe safe—and to take his revenge on the witch queen.”

I throw my hands up. “I want the same thing! No one so evil should be allowed to live.”

“But is it possible to use witchcraft like hers for good? I’ve heard stories of her power from the Vasterutians. She keeps the entire Kupari kingdom warm in winter. The gardens of Kupari flourish even when the lake is frozen solid. And she keeps the brush fires away from their gates. She wields ice and fire to take care of her people. She meets their every need.”

“No wonder they’re all so soft and happy. Do they do anything for themselves?”

“Apart from hoarding their riches, you mean? Really, it’s an excellent question. From what I hear, there is no Kupari army,” he says. “We are almost certain of it.”

“A few minutes before she struck that day on the Torden, we were joking about her lack of a navy. It turned out she didn’t need one.”

“But if we could understand her magic, perhaps we’d have a chance to defeat her.” His eyes are bright now. Eager. “That knowledge would be valuable.”

“I wish I could help you.”

“Are you saying Sander is telling me stories?”

“I’m saying Sander has lost everything. His chieftain, his war, his home, his pride. Like me, he has no family—and his dream of creating one died with his mate last winter, just weeks after you, his closest friend, were banished along with your father. Sander has nothing left except his weapons and his wits. Perhaps he’s using them to gain your trust and enhance his status with Nisse by feeding you lies. Interesting ones, but lies all the same.”

“So you’re saying you do not control the wind, or the chill in the air? You didn’t make fire?”

I laugh, so relieved as the ice in my veins melts. “Do you hear yourself speaking right now?”

He gives me a keen, searching look. Then he grins, though I swear it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sadly, yes. It does sound rather unhinged.”

“Please don’t make Sander face consequences for this,” I say, praying he will let this go. “He’s suffered enough. But if you can, encourage him to turn his mind toward serving his chieftain instead of telling unfounded tales. If you care for him as your friend, help him keep wise.”

Jaspar takes a step back from me, his gaze drifting from my boots up to my face. “You could challenge him to the fight circle for this.” He chuckles. “Maybe you can claim his other ear!”

I can’t have his blood on my hands. Not now. “As Thyra says, we need every sword arm.” I smile. “And ear.”