The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [122]
“I was born in this tower, Sir Neil. I have lived all of my life here except for the few months of freedom in which we met. I will die here, in this place with one window.”
“What about the rest of the castle? The city? The countryside?”
“All denied me,” she said.
“Then you are a prisoner.”
“I suppose so,” she said, moving another of the kingsmen to block Neil’s weak stratagem.
“Again, why?”
A frown pinched her brow. “I’ve been watching you, Sir Neil.”
He had the sudden feeling of the very sky growing heavy and fragile above them, a huge plate of glass pressing on the tower, crushing them and breaking under its weight.
“At the battle of the waerd,” he said. “I thought—”
“I was there,” she said. “I saw you fall. I did what I could.”
And then he knew.
“You’re the Hellrune,” he said.
“What a funny way of saying it,” she replied.
“Wait,” Neil said, closing his eyes, trying to put it all together. Anne’s insistence on his coming, Alis’ many questions about the Hansan seers.
Brinna was the enemy, the beating heart of the Hansan war beast.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Brinna said softly.
“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.
“Don’t,” she said. “Please.”
“How long?”
“They knew when I was born. They started giving me the drugs when I was two, but I was nine before I was of much use. Move, please.”
He did so, a reckless attack that she swiftly crushed.
“And how old are you now?” he asked.
She paused. “That’s an unfriendly question,” she said. Then, more softly: “I had nothing to do with your father’s death, Sir Neil. I have twenty-three winters, but you don’t imagine I was seeing for a band of Weihands.”
“And yet you know—”
“I have seen it now,” she said, “The death of your father, your first hard wounding. As I said, I have been watching you, past and present.”
“Nevertheless, in these years you have caused the deaths of many friends,” he said. “The fleet at Jeir—”
“Yes, that I was responsible for,” she replied. “You understand? I will not lie to you.”
“I lost an uncle there.”
“How many uncles did you slaughter, Sir Neil? How many children did you leave fatherless? It was war. You cannot be so squeamish or judgmental.”
“This is hard, Brinna,” he managed.
“For me as well.”
“And now you’re waging war on my queen and country.”
“Yes. Because it is my duty. We discussed duty, didn’t we? You approve of it if I remember correctly.”
“I did not know what your duty was then.”
“Really? And would you have advised me differently if you had? Is my duty less relevant when it conflicts with your own?”
He looked at the game he’d just lost, trying to find something to say.
“Or would you have sacrificed yourself and killed me?” she asked very softly.
“No,” he managed. “Never that.”
“Then you still consider yourself obligated to me.”
“I consider myself more than obligated,” Neil replied. “But that puts me in an impossible situation.”
“I had escaped,” she said. “Do you know that? Even after the delay taking you to Paldh, we sailed through the straits of Rusimi. My father would never have found me.”
“What happened then?”
She sighed. “You.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sir Neil, I found you nearly dead, hurt to the heart by betrayal, yet still steadfast in your duty even to those who betrayed you. That grew in me. It was because of you that I returned. You and a vision.”
“A vision?”
“I’ll tell you more about that later. May I tell you why I left in the first place?”
“Of course.”
“You’re beaten in two moves,” she said.
“I know. Why did you leave?”
“I have two roles in this life, Sir Neil, two obligations deeper than birth. I enjoy neither of them. One obligation is to be my father’s haliurunna. I dream and send men to death. I take drugs that allow me to see better, but days of my life vanish sometimes. There are whole months I have no recollection of. I know too much and too little all at once. But I did what I was told, dreaming one day of freedom, knowing in my heart I would never have it. I fastened