The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(64)
“I had no idea how to stop you. There were flames in your eyes, and your arms were on fire, your tunic burning black and falling right off your body, even as you juggled knives of ice. You didn’t even seem aware that the magic was devouring you.” She shudders. “I don’t regret what I did.”
She still sees the monster when she looks at me, I can tell. “Why did Halina bring me here, then? You seem to wish I’d never risen from the ground where you left me.”
Her eyes flare with surprise and pain, and she presses her lips together. She turns back to the fire, as if to confront it directly as it tries to caress her. She says nothing to defend herself, nothing to stave off the flames. She merely stares at them, as if daring them to touch her. And the sight reminds me of that night in the fight circle, the way she faced Nisse, and instead of begging for her life, she told him to respect her warriors. Not the act of sacrifice I would expect from a traitor.
The flames pull back, as confused as I am.
She glances at me from the corner of her eye. “I need you to get a message to our warriors. They will not emerge from their enclave if they do not hear from a member of our tribe—if they do not trust the words come from me. They are rapidly running out of supplies, and Nisse has assigned a heavy guard to block all access to them. But I can trust y—”
“Now you suddenly trust me again?”
She flinches at the sharp snap of my words. “I’m sorry, Ansa. I regret some of the things I said to you.”
“Is that only because you need me right now?”
“No. It’s because I’ve had plenty of time to think about it while held prisoner by a man who is only keeping me alive until he figures out how best to use me.”
“So you’ve hit upon the best way to use me—as your messenger. I’m seeing a family resemblance.”
Her mouth is tight, as if she is trying to hold her words captive. Finally she says, “My uncle needs our numbers if he’s going to invade Kupari. We comprise nearly a quarter of the warriors within this city. But if Nisse invades Kupari while the snow is thick on the ground, our warriors will emerge from their exile only to die. Imagine what the witch could do with all that ice and cold.”
“She might be dead. They may have no ruler.”
“Yes. Nisse has sent someone to find out.”
Now I know he spoke the truth when he said he had kept her informed. “If the witch has fallen, we could take them over.”
She waves her hand toward the Vasterutians. “Like he took them over? You see what he has done here? He’s sowing the seeds of our destruction and he doesn’t even recognize it because he believes so strongly in our superiority. He is blinded by arrogance.”
“I see that our warriors sleep safe in a warm city instead of freezing by the northern shore.”
“Are we safe?” She waves her arm toward the door. “We are enclosed in a wall of stone, along with an unknown number of people who crave freedom more than their own safety, and another many thousand only awaiting a sign that freedom is possible.”
Halina raises her head. Her young son is curled on her lap, his head against her shoulder, and her arms are tight around him. “Old Nisse might have cowed us for a time, but that does not mean our spirits are crushed. We’re going to take our city back.” She gives Thyra a frustrated look. “And you said little red would help.”
My mouth drops open as I turn back to Thyra. “You did what?”
“I said you would be an ally,” Thyra says slowly. “You saved me that night in the fight circle, Ansa. It made both of us dangerous outcasts among Nisse’s tribe.”
But Nisse promised me redemption, if only I do as he asks. I swallow those words. I have a feeling I know what she would say to that, and I’m not in the mood for her questions—they always tear the lid off things I thought were locked down. “So you thought I would join you in helping the Vasterutians defeat the Krigere?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Now who is the traitor?”
Thyra winces and gives Halina an apologetic look. “The Vasterutians want the same things we do, Ansa. We are not so different.”
“We are different! We’re warriors and they aren’t.”
“There’s the arrogance that blinds our tribe,” she says. “Don’t we all bleed red?”
“It’s not arrogance—it’s pride in who we are! And our chieftain should have it in abundance.”
“I am proud of who we are.” Her brow furrows. “I cannot always be proud of what we do. I love our people—and that is why another invasion must be stopped. It is lunacy.”
All my doubt and frustration over her refusal to avenge our tribe rises to the surface once more. “At least Nisse is taking action! He means to give our warriors their vengeance, and their pride.”
“So you’ve chosen your side, little red?” asks Halina.
“I haven’t done anything except wake up from a stupor and find myself hopelessly tangled in intrigue and lies!” I glare at Thyra. “But perhaps I was before as well, and I simply didn’t realize it.”
Efren reaches beneath his cloak, possibly for a weapon.
“If any of you make a move against me, you will instantly regret it,” I snarl. “I don’t need fire or ice to make people bleed.” I don’t care if I’m half starved and scarred; I know how to turn people’s weapons against them.