The Winter Prince (The Lion Hunters:01)(52)

Agravain responded in scorn and wonder, “You’re still cold?” We were well equipped, both with furs and with blankets of thick, good wool.

“Aren’t you?” Lleu snapped back at him. “I didn’t say I was cold. I said it’s too cold to sleep.”

“Then don’t sleep,” Agravain replied without sympathy.

Lleu started suddenly, as though a chill had passed over him; the shadow of a ghost or an idea. He rose and began to peel off the layers of wool in which he had shrouded himself, until he stood straight and shivering with his hands on his hips and his cloak thrown back over his shoulders. “If I’m lucky, maybe the two of you will freeze to death overnight.”

“Never count on luck.”

Agravain glanced at me and. held silent as I spoke, his eyes glinting in the firelight as he waited for me to deal in some crushing way with Lleu’s insurrection.

“I won’t,” Lleu answered quietly. Then with the speed and sudden agility of all his training as dancer and swordsman, he vaulted toward the carefully stacked weapons and seized his own small bow and a fistful of arrows. We both leaped toward him, and he brandished the arrows at us as though he held a dagger or a flaming torch. By chance he scratched the back of Agravain’s outstretched hand, and as Agravain paused to curse and wince, I stumbled in his path.

Lleu dropped the arrows. In the moment of our hesitation he strung his bow; when I regained my balance he stood with the bow drawn and trained in our direction. The other bows and spears lay at his feet, as did the arrows. He burst out in fury, “Don’t either of you move. By God, Medraut, you taught me to kill, and I will do it, if I must, to save myself.” His face was pallid, but his hands did not tremble. His bow was beHisod,nt to its extent, the bowstring taut as he could stretch it. He stood close enough to either of us that there was scarcely any need for him to take aim; all he must do is loose his arrow. Agravain reached for his hunting knife, and Lleu sent the arrow plowing into the hard earth near his cousin’s foot. He snatched for another and notched it to his bow with a speed and accuracy I never anticipated. “I cannot shoot like Medraut,” he said, voice and hand steady, steady. “If I try to come closer than that I might hit you. Don’t force me to try.” He was in desperate, deadly earnest.

“I want your daggers. Keep them sheathed.” Agravain unfastened his hunting knife and tossed it with angry reluctance at his cousin’s feet. I did not move, sure that I could regain control of the situation in some way. Lleu turned the drawn bow toward me. “Hunter turns quarry,” he said softly. “I do not like this game, Medraut, my brother.”

“You play it very well,” I answered, still without moving.

“I will train this arrow at your throat for the rest of the night if you don’t obey me,” Lleu said through his teeth. “How you scorn me! You count too much on your superior strength. You wield it over my head like an executioner’s sword. That you are stronger than me does not make you better, or more ruthless, or wiser.”

“Show me your superior wit,” I said with disdain.

“I am,” he protested, laughing. “Why did you not bind me, or guard your weapons? Did you imagine I would deliver myself with docile acceptance into the cruel and terrifying hands of the queen of the Orcades? Give me your dagger. And mine, you have them both.”

“I will not,” I said patiently. “Will you really stand there all night?”

He suddenly turned on Agravain and launched another arrow at his cousin, and drew his bow again. Agravain stared at Lleu with wide, angry eyes. “I care less for this fawning minion than I do for you, Medraut. Don’t make me hurt him. Give me the daggers.”

“Do it,” Agravain hissed.

So I had threatened Goewin the night before, knowing that she would do my bidding rather than let me harm her brother. I threw the knives contemptuously at Lleu’s feet, more in the spirit of one accepting a challenge than because I cared for Agravain’s safety. Lleu said, “Now, Agravain, come here. I want you to burn the other bows. Don’t touch the spears.”

Efficiently and effectively, Lleu disposed of all the weapons we had brought with us except for his own bow, the hunting knives, and a little hand ax which he used to destroy the spears. He kept only as many arrows as he could comfortably carry in a quiver. When he had seen to this purge of arms, he relaxed his guard and once more sat across from us by the fire; his face was still without color, but despite his evident fear he was confident, excited.