Fire - Kristin Cashore [107]
Brigan pushed into the room behind her. ‘Brother,’ Fire heard Garan say. ‘Cutting it a bit close this time even by your standards, don’t you think? Everything in place at Fort Flood?’
‘Poor boy,’ Clara said. ‘Who punched up your face?’
‘No one relevant,’ Brigan said shortly. ‘Where’s Lady Fire?’
Fire turned from the courtyard, went to the balcony door, stepped into the room, and came face to face with Nash, very handsome, very smartly dressed, who froze, stared back at her unhappily, turned, and strode into the next room. Garan and Welkley stared also, mouths agape, and Fire remembered that she was dressed up. Even Clara seemed struck dumb.
‘All right,’ Fire said, ‘I know. Pull yourselves together and let’s get on with things.’
‘Is everyone in position?’ Brigan asked. Mud-splattered and radiating cold, he looked like he’d been fighting for his life not ten minutes ago and had nearly lost, his cheekbone scraped raw, his jaw bruised, and a bloody bandage across his knuckles. He directed his question at Fire, searching her face with gentle eyes that did not match the rest of his appearance.
‘Everyone’s in position,’ she said. Do you need a healer, Lord Prince? He shook his head, peering down at his knuckles with mild amusement. ‘And our enemies? Anyone we weren’t expecting? Any of Cutter’s foggy friends about, Lady?’
‘No, thank the Dells.’ Are you in pain?
‘All right,’ Clara said. ‘We have our swordsman, so let’s get moving. Brigan, could you attempt, at least, to make yourself presentable? I know this is a war, but the rest of us are trying to pretend it’s a party.’
THE THIRD TIME Fire instructed Welkley’s serving girl to offer Gentian wine, Gentian grabbed the cup and downed it in two gulps.
Fire was fully inside Gentian’s mind now. It was not a stable place. He kept glancing at the balcony belonging to Murgda. When he did this, his entire handsome being flashed with anxiety, and with a peculiar wishfulness.
Fire began to wonder why, if Gentian was so anxious about Lady Murgda’s balcony, he’d assigned none of his men to monitor Murgda. For Clara had figured right. Fire knew the feeling of every person in Gentian’s entourage, and with a small effort, she could locate each of them. They were lurking around the doors and the persons of various gala guests; they were lurking near the guarded entrances to the royal residences and offices. None of them were lurking around Murgda.
Murgda, on the other hand, had spies on everyone. Two of them were milling around Gentian this moment.
Gentian took another cup of wine and glanced once more at Murgda’s empty balcony. It was so odd, the emotion that accompanied these glances. Something like a frightened child looking for reassurance from an adult.
Why would Gentian look to the balcony of his enemy for reassurance?
Suddenly Fire wanted very much to feel what would happen if Murgda came onto her balcony and Gentian saw her. But Fire was not going to be able to compel Murgda onto her balcony without Murgda knowing she was being compelled. And then it would be only one more step to Murgda figuring out why.
It seemed to Fire that if she couldn’t sneak up on Murgda, she might as well be direct. She sent a message.
Come out, lady rebel, and tell me why you’re here.
Murgda’s response was both immediate and startling: an ironic, hard pleasure at being so hailed; an utter lack of surprise or fear; a desire, unmistakable, to meet with the lady monster in person; and a blatant and unapologetic mistrust.
Well, Fire thought, her tone deliberately careless. I’ll meet with you, if you’ll go to the place I specify.
Amusement and contempt in response to this. Murgda was not fool enough to be led into a trap.
And I’m not keen enough to see you, Lady Murgda, that I would let you choose the meeting place.
Stubborn refusal to leave her self-created fortress.
You don’t imagine I’d come to you in your rooms, Lady Murgda? No, I begin to think we are not meant to meet after all.
A determination - a need - to meet Lady Fire, to see her.
It was