Fire - Kristin Cashore [98]
His worry was instant. He opened the feeling of it to her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t fret, it was a small thing. I’m recovered.’ Which was a lie, for her body was sore still and her heart raw as Hanna’s knees. But it was what she hoped would be the truth, eventually.
He studied her, unconvinced. ‘I suppose if that’s what you say, I’ll have to believe you. But do you have the care you need?’
‘Yes, of course. I beg you to forget it.’
He lowered his face to Hanna’s hair. ‘I’d offer you birthday cake,’ he said. ‘But it looks like we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’
THAT NIGHT THE stars were cold and brittle, and the full moon seemed very far away. Fire bundled herself up so that she was twice as wide around as usual.
On the roof she found Brigan standing contentedly hatless in a draft. She blew warm air into her mittened hands. ‘Are you immune to winter, then, Lord Prince?’
He led her to a place protected from the wind by a broad chimney. He encouraged her to lean back against the chimney. When she did, she was surprised, for it was lovely and warm, like leaning against Small. Her guard faded into the background. The tinkling sound of the drawbridge bells whispered over the rumble of the falls. She closed her eyes.
‘Lady Fire,’ Brigan’s voice said. ‘Musa told me about Mila. Would you care to tell me about my sister?’
Fire’s eyes flashed open. There he was at the railing, his eyes on the city, his breath shooting out like steam. ‘Hmm,’ she said, too astonished to build a proper defence. ‘And what would you like to know about her?’
‘Whether or not she’s pregnant, of course.’
‘Why should she be pregnant?’
He turned then to look at her, and their eyes met. Fire had a feeling her unreadable face was not as successfully unreadable as his. ‘Because outside of her work,’ he said dryly, ‘she’s overly fond of a gamble. And she’s thinner, and tonight she ate little, and turned green at the sight of the carrot cake, which I assure you is something I’ve never seen her do once in my life. Either she’s pregnant or she’s dying.’ His eyes turned back to the city and his voice went smooth. ‘And don’t tell me the father of these babies, because then I’d be tempted to harm him, and that would be inconvenient, don’t you think, what with Brocker expected, and all these people about who adore him?’
If he’d deciphered this much, then there was no point in pretense. She said mildly, ‘Nor would it set an example for Hanna.’
‘Humph.’ He leaned his mouth on his fist. His breath steamed out in every direction. ‘I take it they don’t know about each other yet? And I take it I’m to keep all of it secret. Is Mila as unhappy as she looks?’
‘Mila is devastated,’ Fire said softly.
‘I could kill him for that.’
‘I believe she’s too angry, or too despairing, to think straight. She won’t take his money. So I’m taking it myself, and I’ll hold it for her, and hope she changes her mind.’
‘She may keep her job if she wants it; I won’t force her out of it.
We’ll work something out.’ He shot her a wry glance. ‘Don’t tell Garan.’ And then, grimly: ‘Ah, Lady. It’s a mean time to be welcoming babies to the world.’
Babies, Fire thought to herself. Babies to the world. She sent it out into the air: Welcome to you, babies. And found, with great frustration, that she was crying. It seemed a symptom of her friends’ pregnancies that Fire should not be able to stop crying.
Brigan was transformed from hard to soft, his hands scrambling through pockets for a handkerchief that wasn’t there. He came to her. ‘Lady, what is it? Please tell me.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ she blubbered, ‘these past two months.’
He took her hands. ‘Please tell me what’s wrong.’
And then, because he was holding her hands, she told him all of it, quite simply: how desperately she wanted children, and why she’d decided she mustn’t have them, and how out of fear of changing her mind, she’d arranged quietly, with Clara and Musa’s help, to take the medicines that would make it forever impossible. And she hadn’t recovered, not nearly, for her heart was small and shivering, and it seemed that she