The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [39]
“I have beaten such invincible men. Their physical abilities made them foolish.”
“But you are not so foolish.”
“I think if I had that power I might become so.”
“Cazio…”
“Majesty, whatever gifts this faneway can give me, I do not want and I do not need.”
“But I want them, Cazio. I want them for you. I’m sorry if I’ve offended your pride. You are certainly the greatest swordsman I have ever known. I only want you to be the best swordsman you can be. How else can you guard me against the things that are to come? How else can you survive them?”
“The way I always have. With my blade and my wits.”
“That is no longer good enough,” she said softly.
“If you wish another bodyguard—”
Something had been welling up in her throughout the whole conversation, something hard in her belly and throat. She felt deeply shaken by something, frustrated by Cazio’s inability to listen. Now she suddenly convulsed and felt tears on her face.
“Cazio,” she managed. “Do not be so selfish. I need you. I need you with the blessing of Mamres. Would it be so bad to be lustrated by a saint? How is that wrong?”
He stepped toward her. “Don’t cry,” he said.
“I’m angry,” she snapped. “Sometimes I cry when I’m angry. Do not mistake these tears. I’m offering you something, something—you aren’t afraid, are you?”
“Afraid?”
“Of the faneway. Afraid you might die?”
One of his eyebrows lifted. “You’re calling me a coward?”
“Ten of my Craftsmen are walking it as we speak. Three of them are already dead.”
“That’s terrible.”
“They just weren’t worthy, Cazio. You are. By the saints, if anyone was ever worthy of the blessing of Mamres, it is you.”
“Who has died, Majesty?”
“I told you. Some of my Craftsmen.”
“Which ones? What were their names?”
It hit her like a punch in the gut, pushing the anger out of her. Her knees went weak, and she felt as if there were no longer anything in her at all. She put her hand against the wall, but it would not support her, and the next thing she knew, she was on the ground.
What was happening to her?
But then Cazio had her cradled in his arms. He smelled both clean and sweaty, which seemed odd.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No,” she managed. “I should know, shouldn’t I? I should know who died. I don’t understand what’s wrong with me, Cazio.”
“There’s a lot going on,” Cazio said. “A lot to worry about.”
“I feel—I’m sorry I asked you to walk the faneway, Cazio. I’m sorry. I couldn’t bear to lose you.”
“I want you to understand—” he began.
Something suddenly tumbled into place, and Anne nearly gasped with understanding.
“No, hush,” she said, knowing what she needed to do. “We won’t talk of this again.” She tapped his shoulder. “You can put me down now,” she said. “I’m fine. Pack your things. We’ll leave for Eslen by noon. Time for me to really act like a queen.”
Cazio cast a look back over his shoulder at the monastery. Besides the Craftsmen still walking the fanes, they had left it invested with nearly two hundred men. The Church was sure to attempt to take it back.
He glanced at Anne. Her face was composed and freshly powdered. He had no idea what she was thinking.
He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. First the sudden kiss, then her request that he make himself unnatural.
It had been very simple once. He had pledged to keep two girls alive, and with the help of his mentor, z’Acatto, he had managed to do it. But since Anne had come back into her kingdom, surrounding herself with knights, lords, and Sefry, he had been less sure of his footing. He had found his place in continuing to be her bodyguard, and he thought he had done tolerably well at it.
But she didn’t seem to think so. He had shocked her into withdrawing her request, but she had made it and could not take it back.
He glanced back again. Should he?
But the mere thought sickened him.
They traveled all day, following the banks of the Warlock River, stopping for the night at Tor Aver, a small castle just beyond the edge of the forest. They had stayed there a few nights before when preparing the assault on the monastery, and the knight who had charge