Fire - Kristin Cashore [54]
Fire corrected him, in a whisper. ‘The good memories.’ She stood. This conversation was a mix of too many sadnesses. And she didn’t mind the rain, but it seemed unfair to inflict it upon her guard.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE MORNING OF her final day of riding Fire woke to an aching back, aching breasts, knotted muscles in her neck and shoulders. There was never any predicting how the time before her monthly bleeding would manifest itself. Sometimes it passed with hardly a symptom. Other times she was an unhappy captive in her own body.
And at least she’d be under Nash’s roofs by the time the bleeding began; she wouldn’t have to embarrass herself with an explanation for the increase in monster attacks.
On Small’s back she was bleary-minded, anxious, nervous. She wished for her own bed; she wished she hadn’t come. She was in no mood for beauty, and when they passed a great rocky hill with wildflowers springing from every crack she had to give herself a talking to to keep the mist out of her eyes.
The land grew greener, and finally they came upon a gorge that stretched to left and right before them, teeming with trees that reached up from the bottom, and thundering with the waters of the Winged River. A road ran east to west above the river, and a grass track, clearly much travelled, ran parallel to the road. The army turned eastward and moved fast along the grass track. The road was full of people, carts, carriages, headed in both directions. Many stopped to watch the First Branch go by, and raised arms in greeting.
Fire decided to imagine that she was out for a gallop with her guard, and none of these other thousands existed. No river or road to her right, no King’s City before her. To think this way was a comfort, and her body screamed for comfort.
WHEN THE FIRST stopped for its midday meal, Fire had no appetite. She sat in the grass, elbows on knees, holding her throbbing head in place.
‘Lady,’ the commander’s voice said above her.
Fire assumed a placid expression and looked up. ‘Yes, Lord Prince?’
‘Are you in need of a healer, Lady?’
‘No, Lord Prince. I was only thinking about something.’
He didn’t believe her, she could see it in the sceptical set of his mouth; but he let it go. ‘I’ve received an urgent summons from the south,’ he said. ‘I’ll be on my way as soon as we’ve reached the king’s court. I wondered if there was anything you wanted, Lady, that I could provide before I go.’
Fire tugged at a patch of grass and swallowed this disappointment. She could think of nothing she wanted, not that anyone could provide, except for the answer to a question. She asked it very quietly. ‘Why are you kind to me?’
He paused, watching her hands that pulled at the grass. He crouched down to her eye level. ‘Because I trust you.’
The world went very still around her, and she stared hard at the grass. The green of it was radiant in the sun’s light.
‘Why should you trust me?’
He glanced at the soldiers around them and shook his head. ‘A conversation for another time.’
‘I’ve thought of a thing you can do for me,’ she said. ‘I’ve thought of it in this very moment.’
‘Go on.’
‘You can take a guard when you go wandering at night.’ And then, when his eyebrows shot up and she saw him formulating his refusal: ‘Please, Lord Prince. There are people who’d like to kill you, and many others who’d die to prevent it. Show some respect to those who value your life so highly.’
He turned his face away from her, frowning. His voice was not pleased. ‘Very well.’
That point settled, and sorry now, most likely, that he’d ever started the conversation, Brigan went back to his horse.
IN THE SADDLE again, Fire mulled over the commander’s trust, prodding and pushing it around, like a candy in her mouth, trying to decide whether she believed it. It wasn’t that she thought him likely to lie. It was only that she thought him unlikely to trust - not completely, anyway, not the way Brocker or Donal did, or Archer, on the days Archer decided to trust her.
The problem with Brigan was that