The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(61)
“We still seek information as to who rules the Kupari. Some say the witch queen has perished, but I am told another is supposed to rise in her place. Yet this new ruler has not appeared in public. A day ago I sent an emissary.”
“An emissary?”
Nisse grins. “Diplomacy! The south brims with it, and who am I to violate their traditions?” His smile disappears. “But I only want to know one thing—if the witch is on her throne. If she is, we must be very careful. If she is not, I see no reason why we shouldn’t ride into her city and decimate it in payment for what she did to Lars and his warriors.” He lays his hand on my shoulder, gentle but heavy. “And if we do that, I would want you with us, Ansa. I would want you to show those Kupari your wrath. Show them what it is to have such magic turned against them.”
“You want me to use the curse?” A wave of sick sits bitter on the back of my tongue. “I don’t know. . . . It’s not under my control.”
“Nonsense! You craved Flemming’s death that day in the circle, and the flames wrapped around him like snakes, striking hard. It was thunderous and deadly and beautiful.”
“I murdered your warriors,” I whisper, the memories rising now, the opposite of beautiful.
Nisse leans close. “What if you could atone?” My eyes meet his, and he nods. “If you were to strike at the Kupari, at their queen, at their people, you would find forgiveness here. Deliver the warriors a victory, and you will be welcomed within this tribe.”
My final memory becomes stark and bright in my mind. Thyra, tears running down her face as she begged me to stop. Even if her love was a lie, her fear of the magic—of what I had become—rang with truth. “Does Thyra know you’re asking me to do this?”
“Given the nature of the truths I had to reveal, you can understand that she is not privy to all of it.”
Because he has told me that she is the traitor. I don’t know if I can believe it. I don’t know what to believe, and the confusion is taking me apart. My entire body shakes with it. “I need to talk to her.”
“Are you well, Ansa?” Nisse asks, his tone filling with concern. “You have become pale as the snow. Did that Vasterutian servant feed you adequately? Did she give you ointment for your wounds? Did she treat you with respect?”
“Halina did a good job,” I say, knowing my answer might mean the difference between life and death for her. “I would not be standing before you if she hadn’t.” Except I’m not standing now. I’m slumped on the bench, my head throbbing, my body weighed down by the sickness of the last month and all I have heard in the last several minutes.
“I thought I might never see your eyes open again,” Jaspar says. “Thyra hit you so hard we thought you might not ever wake up.”
Nisse looks at his son, and they share a moment. “Perhaps that was her intention.”
Jaspar gives him a curt nod. “It had occurred to me. I was trying to call off our archers and calm things down when Thyra hit Ansa.”
“Thyra wouldn’t . . .” The protest dies on my tongue as they echo my suspicions. “I saved her,” I say lamely.
Jaspar kneels in front of me, his blond hair glinting gold as he leans into a shaft of light. “And once again I must ask: How has she rewarded your loyalty?”
I close my eyes. “I need to rest. Please.”
They do not press me further. Nisse calls the guards but tells them to keep their weapons sheathed as they take me back to my chamber. Jaspar gives me a long, hard look before I go, wrapping his hand around my upper arm and stroking his thumb over the kill mark he gave me, as if he is drawn to it. “We’ll talk again soon, I promise,” he says.
I cannot meet his gaze. I let Sander and the others lead me back down into the earth, the stone behemoth swallowing me down until I find its stomach, the little windowless tomb where I am to be kept. Halina is waiting when we reach it. She bows her head meekly and nods as Sander tells her to get me dinner and make sure I am comfortable.
As soon as I sink onto my bed, though, she is pulling me up again. “Come with me, little red. Dinner is this way.” Her tone isn’t amused and joking as it was earlier, but nor is it meek and scared like it was in the hallway. Instead, it is urgent. Determined.
“Where? I can’t be around the other warriors right now. They all hate and fear me.” If I am to win my way back into the tribe, it will require me to loose fire and ice on Kupari. I glance at my arms, where the scars lie red and silver beneath my sleeves. The curse would have eaten me alive that day. If I unleash it again, will it kill me?
Halina has the door open and is peeking into the corridor. Evidently satisfied with what she sees, she comes back inside and pulls me by the wrist. “Stop your spinning mind and follow me,” she says. “You may find something that will nourish you.”
Fatigue gnaws on my bones, but the desire to see the sky again brings me to my feet, along with the need to be in the open, out from under all this rock. I have no idea where she’s taking me, but the question temporarily silences the blizzard of knowledge and questions raging in my head. Grateful for the relief of curiosity and purpose, I trail Halina out the door and into the corridor.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
My wish for sunlight is crushed as Halina leads me through a recessed wooden door to a staircase that descends further into the earth. But when I balk, she tugs at me, relentless. “Come now,” she whispers. “Time is never our friend.”