“Katsa. This isn’t about you or me. This is about Bitterblue.”
She sat down suddenly, the strength knocked out of her legs. For it was about Bitterblue. They’d come all this way for Bitterblue, and she was Bitterblue’s only hope. She swallowed. She made her face expressionless, for the child must not know how much it hurt her to rank Bitterblue’s safety above Po’s.
And then she knew suddenly that she was going to cry. She held her breath steady and didn’t look at him. “I’d thought to get a few hours of sleep,” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Sleep for a bit, love.”
She wished that his voice was not so soft and kind. She wrapped herself in a blanket and lay beside the fire with her back to him. She commanded herself to sleep. A tear trickled over the bridge of her nose and down into her ear, but she commanded herself again.
She slept.
———
When she woke, Bitterblue slept on the ground beside her. Po sat on a rock before the crackling fire and looked into his hands. Katsa sat with him. The meat was cooked, and she ate it gratefully, for if she ate she did not have to talk, and if she talked she knew she would cry.
“We could get another horse,” she finally managed to say. She stared at the fire, and tried not to look at the lights that glowed in his face.
“Here, at the base of the mountains, Katsa?”
All right then. There was no other horse.
“Even if we could,” he said, “it would be ages before I could ride fast enough. My head won’t heal while I’m rattling around on a horse. It’s best for me, too, Katsa, if you leave me behind. I’ll recover faster.”
“And how will you defend yourself? How will you eat?”
“I’ll hide. We’ll find a place, early tomorrow, for me to hide. Come, Katsa, you know I hide better than anyone you’ve ever known, or heard of.” She heard a smile in his voice. “Come, my wildcat. Come here.”
There was no helping her tears. For they would leave Po behind, to fend for himself and keep himself alive by hiding, though he couldn’t even walk unassisted. She knelt before him, and he took her into the crook of his uninjured arm. She cried into his shoulder like a child. Ashamed of herself, for it was only a parting, and Bitterblue had not wept like this even over a death. “Don’t be ashamed,” Po whispered. “Your sadness is dear to me. Don’t be frightened. I won’t die, Katsa. I won’t die, and we’ll meet again.”
———
When bitterblue woke, Katsa was packing their belongings.
Bitterblue watched Katsa’s face for a moment. Then she watched Po, who stared into the fire.
“We’re leaving you, then,” she said to Po.
He looked up at the child and nodded.
“Here?”
“No, cousin. When morning comes we’ll search for a hiding place.”
Bitterblue kicked at the ground. She crossed her arms and considered Po. “What will you do in your hiding place?”
“I’ll hide,” Po said, “and recover my strength.”
“And when you’re strong again?”
“I’ll join you in Lienid, or wherever you are, and we’ll plan the death of King Leck.”
The girl considered Po for a moment longer. She nodded. “We’ll look for you, cousin.”
Katsa glanced up to see the slightest smile on Po’s face, at the child’s words. Then Bitterblue turned away to help Katsa with the medicines.
The child’s teeth chattered as she knelt beside Katsa. She had no coat, and the blanket she wore as they traveled was threadbare. The girl carried their packages to the horse, brought water to Po, and shivered.
Why had Katsa not saved the hides of the rabbits she’d killed?
She would have to do something. She would have to find Bitterblue something warmer to wear. For this child’s protection was her charge, and she must think of everything. Her care of Bitterblue must be worthy of Po’s sacrifice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
In the pink of dawn they stumbled upon a small cabin with little to offer except its shell; an abandoned cabin, perhaps once the lair of some Monsean hermit. It stood in a hollow more grassy than rocky, with a tree or two and a patch of weeds that looked as if it might once have served as a garden. Broken shutters and a cold fireplace. A blanket of dust on the rough wooden floor, on the table and the bed, on the cabinet that leaned on three lopsided legs with its door hanging open crookedly.
“This is where I’ll hide,” Po said.
“This is a place to live, Po,” Katsa said. “It’s not a place to hide. It’s far too obvious; no one will pass it without going inside.”
“But I could stay here, Katsa, and hide someplace nearby if I hear them coming.”
And what hiding place had he sensed nearby? “Po – ”
“I wonder if there’s a pond anywhere near?” he said. “Come with me, ladies. I’m sure I hear water running.”
There was no sound of water that Katsa could hear, which meant that Po could hear none, either. She sighed. “Yes,”
she said. “I think I hear it, too.”
They moved across the grasses behind the cabin. Po leaned against Katsa, and Bitterblue led the horse. Soon Katsa actually did hear water, and when they topped a brownish rise and the grass gave way to boulders, she saw it. Three great streams clambered down from the rocks above, joined together, and poured over a ledge into a deep pool. Here and there at its edges the pool overflowed, and a number of streams trickled downward and eastward toward the Monsean forest.
Very well, Katsa thought to him. And where’s the hiding place?
“There’s a waterfall like this in the mountains near my brother Skye’s castle,” Po said. “We were swimming one day, and we found a tunnel underwater that led to a cave.”
Katsa knew where this was going, and Bitterblue’s puzzled look – no, it would be more accurate to call it her suspicious look – suggested that Po had already said more than enough. Katsa sat Po down. She pulled off one of her boots. “If there’s a hiding place in this pool, Po, I’ll find it for you.” She pulled off her other boot. “But just because a hiding place exists doesn’t mean it’ll do you any good. You can’t get from the cabin to this pool on your own.”
“I can,” he said, “to save my life.”
“What will you do? Crawl?”
“There’s no shame in crawling when one can’t walk. And swimming requires less balance.”
She glared at him, and he looked calmly back, the slightest hint of amusement on his face. And why shouldn’t he be amused? For she was about to plunge into near-freezing water to search for a tunnel that he already knew existed, and explore a cave of which he already knew the exact size, shape, and location.
“I’m taking my clothes off,” she said, “so look away, Lord Prince.” For she could at least spare her clothing; and if this entire episode was a performance for Bitterblue, then they might as well also pretend Po was in no position to see her with her clothes off. Though Katsa didn’t suppose Bitterblue was any more fooled by that pretense than by the others. She stood beside the horse and kept her own counsel; and her eyes were big and childlike, but they were not unseeing.
Katsa sighed. She pulled off her coat. Point me in the right direction, Po.
She followed his gaze to the base of the waterfall. She threw her trousers onto the rocks beside her coat and boots.
She clenched her teeth against the cold and stepped into the pool. Its bottom sloped steeply, and with a yelp she was submerged. She dived.