The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [213]
“Azdei, mestro,” Cazio replied. He was suddenly terribly afraid that he was going to cry.
Neil knelt before Anne and tried to hold himself steady on one knee, but his body, racked by pain and exhaustion, betrayed him, and he fell. He caught himself with his hands.
“Ease yourself, Sir Neil,” Princess Anne said. “Sit, please.”
He hesitated, then stood and slumped onto the bench. Bright and dark spots danced before his eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he mumbled. “I’m just out of breath.”
The princess nodded. “You’ve been through much, Sir Neil,” she observed, “and some of it has been because of me. I did not trust you in z’Espino.”
“That is clear to me, Your Highness.”
She tucked her hands behind her back and regarded him with a solid gaze. “I wronged you,” she said. “And you almost died. But I had my reasons. Do you doubt me?”
Neil found that he didn’t.
“No, Your Majesty,” he said. “I understand what your position was. I should have made more of an effort to convince you.”
“I am not queen, Sir Neil,” the princess said softly. “You should not address me as ‘Majesty.’ ”
“I understand, Your Highness,” Neil replied.
She lay a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you survived, Sir Neil. I am most glad.”
Neil heard the apology there—an apology without weakness. A very regal sort of apology that sent a little thrill through him.
I serve someone worthy, he caught himself thinking. He hadn’t known Anne before, not really. But he did know she hadn’t been like this. Something basic in her had changed; she had been a girl. Now she was something much stronger.
“Ah, Cazio,” he heard Anne say. Neil glanced up to see the Vitellian had joined them.
“Mi Regatura,” Cazio said, a bit cockily. But then, as if the gesture pained him, he dropped to one knee.
Anne regarded him for a moment, then nodded and said something to Cazio in Vitellian.
“I must see someone else, now,” she told Neil.
Neil made the sign of blessing, and Cazio made a similar sign, then they both rose. As Anne left, the Vitellian looked at Neil.
“I speak not well your tongue,” he managed in an incredibly thick accent. “But I listen, no? You brave man. You brother.” He held out his hand.
Neil clasped it. “It was an honor to fight beside you,” he said.
“She—” the Vitellian pointed after Anne, struggling for words.
“Not the same,” he finally managed.
“No,” Neil breathed. “She is a queen now.”
Anne gazed down at Roderick’s corpse. Vespresern had already washed him and laid him in a winding-sheet. Now she stood weeping as Anne and Austra looked on.
“He died bravely,” Anne ventured.
Vespresern turned hard eyes on her. “He died for you,” she said. “I can’t imagine you’re worth it. He loved you. He was mad with love for you.”
Anne nodded, but she didn’t have anything to say. After a moment, she left, with Austra following her.
The two women went up to the battlements, so Anne could feel the wind. The threat of rain was long gone, and stars blazed in the night sky.
“I thought I loved him,” Anne said, “and then I thought I hated him. Now I don’t feel much of anything but pity.”
“Why?” Austra said. “Anne, his father must have told him to court you. They planned to kill you all along, and Roderick was an instrument of that plan.”
“I know. And if I hadn’t cursed him with love, he would have killed me himself, I’m sure. But I did curse him, and cursed him again. He died for something he didn’t even understand. Like that horse, remember? Duke Orien’s horse? It broke its leg, and we were hiding in the hayloft and saw them kill it? You could see in its eyes, it didn’t understand what was happening to it.”
“I suppose.”
“And if I had never been so foolish as to write him, still none of this would have happened. His love was first counterfeit, then shinecraft. Mine was neither—it was just a foolish girl’s game. So whose shoulders should this all fall on?”
“You can’t take it all on yourself.”
“Oh, but I can,” Anne said. “I must. I went there again, Austra. I saw the fourth Faith, and she told me that my mother has been imprisoned