The Winter Prince (The Lion Hunters:01)(49)

“You speak so lightly of killing!” Goewin flung at me, trying to break free. “You are no murderer!”

“Indeed I am,” I said grimly, “several times over, and by no accident.”

Goewin tore herself from Agravain’s grasp and flew at me, snatching for the hunting knife that I still wore at my side. “Ah, no, Princess,” I said, and seized one of her wrists as I drew the dagger myself. “You are like Lleu: quick, skillful, but not very strong.”

Goewin tried to wrench her arm free, but could not fight very well on her knees in the small space with Lleu sprawled between us. She spat, “Obviously you think more of his strength than you do of mine, or you’d have drugged both of us.”

“Goewin,” I cautioned with the knife raised, “be still.”

“Oh, cut my throat! I dare you!”

“Not yours,” I said, and still gripping her wrist, pressed the blade against Lleu’s neck. His head sank. “Now, be still.”

Goewin went limp. “You would not.”

“I will not kill him, no,” I granted. “At least, not now. But if you do not stop struggling I will hurt him.”

“Take him, then,” she cried. “Ah, God, you make me sick. Cold and aloof as you are, I trusted you more deeply than I would my father, counted your word more binding than I would my own. Soulless viper! Take him! How can I stand in your way now?”

I let her go. She got up and stormed outside into the dark, the snow, the wilderness.

“Shall I bring her back?” Agravain asked.

“Let her be. There is nowhere for her to go.”

Lleu whispered raspingly, “You would not have hurt me.”

“Are you with us yet, Bright One?” I said in wonder. “You must be fighting as you have never fought before. That dose was stronger than any the queen of the Orcades has ever given you.”

“You would not hurt me,” Lleu repeated, and with his final fading consciousness reached out to take my crippled hand in his, unafraid, blindly trusting and certain. I could not understand what he tried to say. His fearlessness puzzled me, and I sat silent, gazing down at the dark head and slim hand that clasped my own, wondering.

Goewin came back inside, and without a word helped me to strip Lleu of his wet clothes and to wrap him in furs and blankets for the night. Agravain packed away the remaining food and put out all the lanterns but one; then the three of us joined Lleu in sleep.

I dozed in fits and starts, tangled in monotonous dreams of riding and moors and rain. In the middle of the night I began to cough uncontrolla {h uzedbly, yet could not wake; I lay wretchedly gasping for air, unaware of where I was or who was with me. Then a gentle hand shook my shoulder, and a gentle, concerned voice said, “Medraut. Medraut, sit up, it’ll stop.”

The voice was insistent. The hand worked its way beneath my back to help me up, and I could breathe again. Goewin knelt by me, holding me upright, gazing at me anxiously. “Shall I get you something to drink?” she asked.

I said at last, softly, “You are very kind, Goewin.”

“Oh.” She crept, to the bags and satchels and poured water for me. “Well, you sounded so awful.”

“Think where you are,” I said.

She blinked. The lantern flickered, burning low, and sent waves of light across her face. “I know where I am,” she said.

“Why help me, then? To win my favor?”

“You woke me up,” she answered irritably. “You sounded as though you couldn’t breathe. Are you ill?” She touched my forehead briefly with cool fingers and said, “You’re burning!”

“Always,” I said darkly.

“No,” she said, and drew back from me a little, not sure what I meant. “You’ve a fever.”

“I know,” I said scornfully.

“For how long?”

“Since early this evening.”

“Don’t go,” she said.

“I must. My mother—”

I stopped, flushed: I, who never spoke a word more than I meant to speak. After a long moment Goewin said slowly, “Do you ever call her mother?”

“I don’t,” I answered shortly. “But she is.”

“What hold has she over you besides that?”

I stared at her. “What hold?” I coughed again, near laughter, incredulous. “Isn’t that enough? You’re not blind, Goewin.”