“Then don’t tell me who you are and who you aren’t.”
I stare up at her, stunned by the realization. I knew I was a raid prize, but always assumed I’d been taken from a tribe in the north or the west. I’d never considered . . . “Even if you’re right, I’m no wielder. I wasn’t born like this.”
Her eyes narrow. “Not that you know of. But the magic can come out anytime.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh. I know all about the Kupari.” Her voice drips with contempt. “They sat quiet and smug as the monsters climbed our walls and killed King Dakila and his family. Refused to help even when we begged. They deserve whatever they get now that old Nisse’s coming for them.”
“I would think you would hate him. All of us, in fact.”
Her dark eyes glitter. “Never said I didn’t, little red warrior.”
I see the fierceness in her gaze and suddenly remember what Nisse said about letting the Vasterutians join our tribe. I’m not sure they would even if he offered. “How long have I been here?”
“Long enough for me to kill you a few hundred times over,” she says casually as she removes her leather mitt and begins to pick filth from beneath her fingernails with a small knife.
“Tell me how long.”
“Days, little red.”
“Days?”
She sets the knife down on a small table on her other side, one laden with a basin of water and a pot of greasy-looking tincture. “Weeks, really. Your head was right cracked. Thought you were going to die for a little while there. Kept burning the bandages right off your arms. Had to put you out a few times.” She pretends to grab the water basin and dump it on me. “Had you tied down, but burned through the ropes. Decided it was best to leave you be, and that’s when you stopped setting things on fire. Guess you don’t like to be a prisoner.” Her mouth curves into a sly smile. “Not that anyone does, eh?”
I’m having trouble meeting her eyes. Normally raid prizes are cowed and meek, but there’s no real question that Halina has the upper hand for now. “You said Thyra’s alive and safe. And she knows I’m here?”
Halina considers me for a moment. “I believe she does.”
“But you’re not sure? What happened to her?”
Halina wears that clever smile as if it were a shield. “Many things happening. Many things. Everybody here wears a mask.” She traces a finger through the air, outlining my face. “Better choose yours.”
My thoughts are so scattered. . . . I close my eyes and try to draw them together into a picture I can understand. Thyra was going to be killed in that fight circle, and I saved her. But she’s the one who hit me. . . . “And Jaspar?”
“The prince is in the mix,” she says. “Yes, he is. You Krigere.” She laughs and shakes her head, but her lips are peeled back, tight and feral. “Come to squat in Vasterut. Think it’s easy.” She’s not laughing anymore. Now she’s just baring her teeth.
“Those are dangerous words, considering Nisse rules your city.” I suppress a shiver, but it’s not the ice inside me. Right now I can barely feel it. All I feel is weaker than I ever have, leaden limbs and shredded skin stretched over the knowledge that the moment I actually embraced the curse and set it free, it tried to kill me.
“Are such words dangerous, when I say them to you? Little Kupari wielder. You know what those Krigere call you?” She leans forward, so close that her sharp breath wafts across my cheeks as she says, “Witch.”
“I’m not a witch. I’m a warrior.”
“Like the ones who stole you away from your birthplace?”
I stare up at her, the breath knocked right out of me.
With a grimly satisfied look, she slaps her palms on her thighs and pushes herself to her feet, deftly pocketing the knife in her skirt. “You rest some more. Drink some.” She gestures to a stone cup at my bedside. “I’m going to report to old Nisse. He wanted to know if you woke up. And if you were sensible. Wasn’t sure you’d ever be sensible again after the crack in the head, but he’ll be glad you are.”
I push myself up to sitting, now that she’s too far away to stop me. Dread has welled up in my throat, and I swallow it down. “Glad?”
Halina grins. “Oh, yes. I’m thinking he wants to know why you roasted or froze nine of his warriors, little red.” She walks to the door, her hips swinging. “And I’m thinking you’d best think very carefully about your answer.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As I wait to hear of my fate, I stare at the ceiling and try to keep my thoughts in line. It is exhausting. Before, I was holding back the curse. Now I am holding back the memories. They used to only inhabit my dreams, hazy and horrifying. But now they hover at the edges of my waking moments, circling predators waiting for the right moment to pounce.
I was born Kupari. It must be true. It’s why Hulda’s language was so familiar, why the sound of her words scraped at the armor laid over the raw memories of my childhood home. The home I had before it was ripped away from me.