Thyra gives me a sidelong glance. “Give us a moment?”
Halina’s nostrils flare, but she says something in Vasterutian to Efren and Ligaya, who step away from us. The three of them turn to the corner where the children are, talking in low, round tones. When I look back at Thyra, she is nearer to the fire, staring into the flames. “You’re too skinny,” she says quietly.
“Weeks lying flat on one’s back with a cracked skull does cause a person to shrivel.”
She bows her head. “I had to do it, Ansa. You know that, don’t you?”
“Do what?” I ask lightly, even as the curse-fire awakens in my chest, cinders glowing and stinging. “Try to kill me?”
She presses her forehead to her clasped hands. “If our positions were reversed, I’d hope you would do the same.”
I look at her in shock. “I would never hurt you.” I leave the rest unsaid, but it hangs ugly between us—she hurt me. So badly I can barely breathe now that she is so near. I was in her arms. I thought she loved me. And her heart was cold as stone as she slammed her hilt into my skull.
The fire in the hearth swells with my resentment, snaking tentative tendrils over the stones as if waiting for my command. Thyra scoots back. “Our warriors are in danger,” she says. “A great number of them fled the tower the night I was challenged. They were joined by the warriors outside the walls and have barricaded themselves in a group of shelters at the eastern edge of the city.”
“Displacing a good number of our people in the process,” Efren growls from the corner.
Thyra gives him a troubled look. “I am working to correct all that has gone wrong.”
Ligaya tosses her hair and makes a skeptical clucking noise with her tongue, but then the Vasterutians return to muttering among themselves.
I frown as I consider the plight of our tribe. Nisse did not mention any of this when we met this afternoon. “Nisse values warrior lives.”
“He values his army.” Thyra scoffs. “If he valued their hearts and souls, he would let me speak to them. Instead he keeps me locked away for my own protection.”
“And yet, here you are. Free within the city.”
Thyra smiles and glances toward the three Vasterutians in the corner. “There is help within the tower, offered at great risk.”
“For those who defy Nisse,” I guess. “What are you doing? If he finds out—”
She jabs a finger toward Halina’s back. “If he finds out, they will be gutted in the square, and their children left to starve, assuming they aren’t killed as well,” she whispers harshly. “Is that what you want?”
“I don’t want more warriors killed. I want our tribe to be strong again.” But I can’t help glancing toward the little boy in the corner. I can’t help thinking I was about his age when my family was destroyed.
Thyra’s fingers tighten over her knees. “You sound like Sander. Does it matter what the price is, Ansa? Will you follow anyone?”
My throat constricts. “I followed you until I realized what you were capable of. You cast me aside and almost ended my life, and still you demand my loyalty?”
Thyra gives the fire a nervous glance. Its tendrils are growing like a vine straight out of the hearth, fingers of flame seeking someone to embrace. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Ansa. I had to stop you, though. Can’t you understand that? Do you remember anything about that night?”
“I remember Jaspar trying to stop the archers and you . . .” Pretending to care about me so you could sneak inside my guard.
“You saved me,” she says, reaching to touch my cheek.
I lean back out of her reach, unwilling to be snared yet again.
Her hand falls back to her side. “I was trying to do the same for you.”
“Jaspar definitely was,” I say. “He stood between me and the danger.”
“You were the danger.” Her expression turns hard. “Has it occurred to you that he was trying to save them? You were about to kill those archers.”
“You didn’t have to hit me!”
“I had no idea how to stop you. There were flames in your eyes, and your arms were on fire, your tunic burning black and falling right off your body, even as you juggled knives of ice. You didn’t even seem aware that the magic was devouring you.” She shudders. “I don’t regret what I did.”
She still sees the monster when she looks at me, I can tell. “Why did Halina bring me here, then? You seem to wish I’d never risen from the ground where you left me.”
Her eyes flare with surprise and pain, and she presses her lips together. She turns back to the fire, as if to confront it directly as it tries to caress her. She says nothing to defend herself, nothing to stave off the flames. She merely stares at them, as if daring them to touch her. And the sight reminds me of that night in the fight circle, the way she faced Nisse, and instead of begging for her life, she told him to respect her warriors. Not the act of sacrifice I would expect from a traitor.