The Cursed Queen (The Impostor Queen #2)(88)
“What? Did you see what just happened?” I gesture at the bloody splinter of metal he pulled from my skin. “It got so cold it shattered like pottery! I could have killed you.”
His brows draw together. “Tomorrow,” he says, even louder. “Like this, tomorrow.” He offers me the splinter. “Magic. Like this.” When he sees the confusion on my face, he rolls his eyes and points to one of the shards in the basin. His nostrils flare as he aims his fingertip at it, and I watch in awe as it turns red hot before melting—while the one only a few inches away from it remains gray and unaltered. He holds up the blood-covered needle of metal again and stabs it at the basin. “Like this.”
Magic so focused that its target can be the size of the point of a needle. “I can’t hit a target the size of that entire basin, let alone something smaller!” The only time I even came close, when knives of ice danced on my palms, when I hurled fire, was in that fight circle—only moments before the magic turned on me like a mad wolf. “I can’t control it!”
“Control?” He shakes his head, sweating in his frustration. “Don’t control magic! Be magic!”
I rub my eyes and laugh. “Be magic,” I say, mimicking his accent. “Thanks. That helps a lot.”
He tosses the metal splinter into the basin. “Soturi,” he whispers. His lip curls, and he spits on the floor at my feet.
The Kupari word for warrior. Except . . . I think he’s telling me I’m a coward. I square my shoulders. “Fine, if you want me to scar the rest of you, that’s your choice.” And if I want to have even a chance of regaining Nisse’s confidence, I don’t have a choice at all. “Tomorrow.”
Sig’s smile is so blood tinged, so brutal, that it suddenly occurs to me he would make an excellent Krigere warrior, unstable or not. “Tomorrow,” he says in that shaky, eager voice of his.
He gives me a mocking little bow and disappears into the hallway, his footsteps silent on the stone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
As I hurry back to my own cell, my mind tosses like a ship in a storm. I am fighting so desperately to wield this power, the magic of the Valtia, but if I succeed, am I more of a Krigere . . . or more of a Kupari? If I use this magic to conquer the Kupari, am I loyal, or am I a traitor?
I know what I have always wanted. But now, I am questioning why I wanted it. You were forced to be Krigere, Thyra said. Do I love the Krigere because I truly had no choice, or is there some spark in them that has always called to me, that fits with who I really am? If I had remained a Kupari, would I have been as out of place among them as Thyra is among the Krigere, even though she was born to rule?
Apparently I was born to rule too, but not over warriors. Is it better to lead a soft, timid people or serve a fierce, strong tribe?
These questions burn inside me. I don’t know where I belong. Trying to figure it out is exhausting me.
I have just made it back to my chamber and dived onto my mattress when I hear footsteps in the hallway. Frantically, I extinguish every candle in the room and lie in the dark, feigning sleep as another cadence of footsteps, this one more rapid than the first, approaches. I let my mouth drop halfway open and breathe deep and slow as a slant of light from the hallway penetrates my eyelids. It’s only there for a moment, though—whoever looked in on me seems satisfied that I’m asleep.
“Did you deliver the message?” a man asks as soon as the door closes most of the way, leaving only a crack of torchlight. I recognize the accent and the deep timbre of the voice—it’s Efren.
“I did,” Halina whispers. “The tunnel is narrow, though, hardly big enough for me to get through. It will need widening if we expect all of them to do it. Have you seen the size of some of them?”
“But it worked.”
“Yes, it worked. It opens into one of the shelters, and I spoke to the iron-bearded one myself.”
Iron-bearded one. My blood drains from my face. She must be talking about Preben. Her resistance force hasn’t given up—they’ve dug a tunnel to get to the warriors who have stayed loyal to Thyra, and they’re planning to get them out!
“What did he say?” asks Efren.
“He was grateful for Thyra’s message, and they will be ready when the signal is given.”
Thyra didn’t give up, then. She just gave up on me. But now she has found another way to reach her warriors in exile. I clutch at the mattress beneath me.
“Good,” Efren says. “They’ll flank the guards and head for the tower. Nisse’s warriors will be completely caught by surprise. But it has to happen before the group of priests and apprentices reaches the gates. We don’t want them interfering.”
“That’s why it has to be precisely midday. I thought there would be only a few, but it seems nearly a hundred are coming! If they side with Nisse, the battle would be over too quickly.”
“So if they don’t make it into the city before the signal, do you think the girl chieftain actually stands a chance?” Efren asks.
Halina grunts. “Of course not. She’s half starved, and so are all her warriors. Old Nisse’s been giving them only subsistence rations, trying to convince them to come out and join him.”
“But they’re loyal to her. They’ll fight.”