“My veiled accusations? How dare—” Thyra begins.
“Peace,” shouts Nisse, so that all the warriors at the lower tables hear, for all have stopped eating and are staring at Thyra. “We’ll discuss this later, in private. Let’s talk of the things that unite us instead of those that divide us, hmm?”
He sounds so amused and condescending that Thyra’s cheeks are pink as she lowers herself down. “I propose we talk of Kupari,” he says when she’s back in her seat.
Jaspar leans forward, and he and Sander share a look. For some reason, it makes me want to drive my dagger right through the back of Sander’s hand. I lean forward between the two of them and glare at him as Thyra says, “If you wish.”
“The word of Lars’s defeat came to us only hours after it happened, from a merchant we waylaid along the coastal road. We convinced him it would be in his best interest to return to the city and supply us with information about what takes place there.”
Thyra arches an eyebrow. “You have a spy in Kupari?”
“He has no trouble getting through the Kupari city gates if he brings wares to sell or trade. And he brought us the most interesting news a few days after the catastrophe. It seems the witch queen did not survive the assault either.”
I gape at him, as do Sander and Thyra. “But she looked strong,” I say, before I can stop myself. My mouth has gone dry and my heart is pounding.
If her death didn’t break the curse, what will?
Nisse’s mouth lifts into a warm smile, making me regret speaking aloud. “Little Ansa. I remember you when you barely rose to my elbow, and now look at you. A warrior.” He glances at Jaspar. “My son has already told me you and young Sander there were in the first wave. You saw the witch yourself, eh?”
“All three of us did,” I reply. “We were in the lead ship.” The memory of the witch’s face and Lars’s charred corpse makes my insides swirl with ice and fire and hate.
“Then you can celebrate her downfall. Whatever she brought down on you, it killed her too.”
I should be happy, but all I feel is defeated. Her death did not free me. I didn’t even know it had happened.
Thyra blinks. “Are they without a ruler?”
“Now there’s where it gets interesting,” he says. “We aren’t sure.” He inclines his head toward our Vasterutian servants. “The citizens here know a good deal about Kupari and its special brand of witchcraft. They were full of stories of the queen. They call her the Valtia.”
“We know this already,” Thyra says.
“But do you know of the Saadella and the line of inheritance?”
I bow my head over my food, saliva filling my mouth. I know that word. Saadella. Hulda mentioned it just before I—
“I can see that you don’t,” Nisse continues. “She is, essentially, the princess of Kupari. She inherits the Valtia’s magic after she perishes. She lives in their temple—the fortress of the Kupari at the tip of the peninsula—and is raised by their priests, all of whom are also magic wielders. This is what they call their witches.”
“The queen is not the only Kupari with witchcr—magic?” Preben asks. His iron-gray beard is trailing in his goblet of wine, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “How many of them have magic? Are they all witches?”
“No, no, my friend. Only a few, and they all reside in their temple, protecting the Valtia and her heir. We’ll have to find a way to crush them if we mean to take the kingdom. If we train and prepare, we could even make a run at them before winter closes in!”
At this, all his warriors raise their daggers. “Blood and victory!”
Thyra waits until they return to their food before speaking again. “You have barely a thousand warriors and are already occupying one kingdom, the citizens of whom have not yet been brought into the tribe. Wouldn’t attacking another, especially so soon, stretch you rather thin? Not to mention that these magic wielders have powers we don’t understand.” For the first time, she looks at me, brows drawn together, and I know she is thinking of my curse. “Why should we rush to attack, if our next defeat could wipe us out completely? Why not focus on solidifying the tribe and looking after their health and well-being?”
Nisse’s eyes flash with a cold kind of irritation, but it’s Sten who leaps to his feet again. “Enough! You’ve come to our table with nothing, Chieftain. You’re a beggar in our land. You bring hungry warriors, a herd of widowed andeners, a history of treachery, and a heaping pile of cowardice!”
There is a grumble of agreement. Thyra rises slowly this time, all intention, even as my own heart pounds with dread. “Did you just call me a coward?” she asks, her voice low and deadly.
Such an insult cannot be ignored.