Fire - Kristin Cashore [72]
Brigan had been unshaven, in black clothing, his boots spattered with mud. His light eyes standing out in a weary face.
She’d very much come to like his face.
And of course she understood now why her body wanted to run whenever he appeared. It was a correct instinct, for there was nothing to be got from this but sadness.
She wished she hadn’t seen his gentle way with his child.
FIRE WAS SPECTACULARLY good at not thinking about a thing when she chose, if the thing was hurtful, or just plain stupid. She manhandled, pummelled, packed this thing away. His own brother in love with her, and she Cansrel’s daughter?
It was not to be thought of.
What she did think of, more urgently now, was the question of her purpose at this court. For if Brigan’s next responsibility took him north, then surely he meant to deposit her home. And she was not ready to go.
She had grown up between Brocker and Cansrel and she was not naïve. She’d seen the parts of the city with the abandoned buildings and the smell of filth; she understood the look and feel of city people who were hungry, or lost to drugs. She understood what it meant that even with a military force in four large pieces, Brigan couldn’t stop looters from knocking a town off a cliff. And these were only the small things, these were mere policing. War was coming, and if Mydogg and Gentian overran this city and this kingdom with their armies, if one of them made himself king, how much lower would that push those already at the bottom?
Fire couldn’t imagine leaving, going all the way back to her stone house where the reports came slowly and the only variance in her routine was the occasional empty-headed trespasser whom no one knew the significance of. How could she refuse to help when there was so much at stake here? How could she go away?
‘You’re wasting something you have,’ Clara had said to her once, almost with resentment. ‘Something the rest of us could only imagine possessing. Waste is criminal.’
Fire hadn’t responded. But she’d heard, more deeply than Clara had realised.
TONIGHT, WHILE SHE was fighting with herself on the roof, Brigan appeared beside her and leaned on the railing. Fire took a steadying breath and watched the glimmer of torches in the city, trying not to look at him, or be pleased of his company.
‘I hear you’re crazy for horses,’ she said lightly.
He broke into a smile. ‘Something’s come up and I’m leaving tomorrow night, following the river west. I’ll be back two days later, but Hanna won’t forgive me. I’m in disgrace.’
Fire remembered her own experience of being five. ‘I expect she misses you terribly when you go.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘and I’m always going. I wish it weren’t the way of things. But I wanted to check with you before I left, Lady. I travel north soon, this time without the army. It’ll be faster, and safer, if you’d like to return home.’
Fire closed her eyes. ‘I suppose I should say yes.’
He hesitated. ‘Would you prefer me to arrange for a different escort?’
‘Goodness, no,’ she said, ‘it’s not that. It’s only that every one of your siblings is pressuring me to stay at court and use my mental power to help with the spy work. Even Prince Garan, who hasn’t decided yet if he trusts me.’
‘Ah,’ he said, understanding. ‘Garan doesn’t trust anyone, you know. It’s his nature, and his job. Does he give you a hard time?’
‘No. He’s kind enough. Everyone is, really. I mean, it’s no harder for me here than it’s been anywhere else. Just different.’
He thought about that for a moment. ‘Well. You mustn’t let them bully you; they see only their side of it. They’re so embroiled in the matters of the kingdom that they can’t imagine any other way of living.’
Fire wondered what other way of living Brigan imagined; what life he dreamed of, if he hadn’t been born to this one. She spoke carefully. ‘Do you think I should stay and help them as they ask?’
‘Lady, I can’t say what you should do. You must do whatever you think is right.’
She caught something defensive in his tone, but she wasn’t certain which one of them he