The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [110]
“I do, but it’s our allies I’m thinking of.”
“Allies? You mean Virgenya. Everyone else is pretty much off the fence by now, I think.”
He tilted his head in agreement.
“You’re a warrior, Artwair. Killing for you comes from a sword or spear. It seems natural to you. What I do does not, and that bothers you. But the dead, in the end, are still dead. Do you think I want to kill anyone? I hate the idea. But I don’t intend to lose this war. Hansa may have started off with the upper hand, but that’s not going to last. If a thousand or more of them die every day before the first arrow of this siege is even loosed, how long will they remain squatting on our property?”
“It may incite them to attack sooner.”
“Before they’re ready.”
“Madame, they are ready.”
“No. They have a flotilla coming down the Warlock. It’s about three days away. Forty barges, maybe ten thousand men, and a lot of supplies. They will disembark at Bloen and cut us off from Eslen. Or at least that is their plan.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I just saw it this morning.”
“I thought you said you didn’t dream last night.”
“I didn’t,” Anne said. “I don’t dream my visions anymore. I’m in better control of them.”
“So, then these new forces played no role in your decision to exterminate a thousand men.”
“No,” she said, unable to prevent a little grin, “but it might still have that effect.”
“Might?”
“They’ll try to cross the river tomorrow morning,” she said.
“You saw that, too?”
She nodded and pushed the bowl toward him. “Try these blackberries. They’re very good.”
Artwair looked more than anything, puzzled.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“You just seem…Are you really well? You don’t seem yourself.”
“Why do people keep saying that?” Anne asked. “You really want the old me back, the girl who was too selfish to look past her own nose? I’ve feared this power of mine for too long, only using it when I absolutely had to, out of fear or anger. But the saints want me to use it. Do you think it’s an accident that I didn’t have nightmares last night? It’s keeping it inside that’s made me ill. Now I feel fine. I’m still Anne, Cousin. I haven’t been gobbled up from the inside by some booygshin or ghost. I know; I worried about that myself. I even thought I might be a walking dead, like Uncle Robert, until last night. I’m not. I heal fast because the saints will it, but my heart beats and my blood flows. I get hungry and thirsty. I eliminate, sweat, cough. No, all that’s happened is that I’ve learned to accept what I am rather than be afraid of it. And that is good for Crotheny, I promise you.”
Artwair took another bite of his bread. “Thank you for your candor, Your Majesty. And now I suppose I had better see to that river crossing.”
He lifted himself from the chair, bowed, and left. When he was gone, she signaled for Nerenai and Emily to enter.
“Do either of you think there’s something wrong with me?”
Nerenai shook her head. “No. As you said, you’re starting to come to terms with your power. You rely less and less upon the arilac, yes?”
“I see less of her,” Anne said. “And when I do see her, she seems…faded.”
“Did you—” Emily began, but then stopped and put her hands in her lap. “What, Emily?”
The girl looked back up. “Did you really kill a thousand men?”
Anne nodded. “Does that bother you?”
“Bother me? It’s amazing. The saints really have touched you. It’s like you’re Genya Dare reborn, come to lead her heroes against the Scaosen, to tear the doors off their palaces and grind them into the dust.”
“I don’t quite have her power,” Anne said.
“No, but you will,” Nerenai said.
“My uncle Charles is so stupid,” Emily said. “He said you were just a silly girl. If he could see—”
“Wait,” Anne said. “Your uncle Charles? Do you mean Charles IV?”
Emily’s hand flew to her mouth, and she reddened.
“I see,” Anne said. “This is what I get for not learning those