FrostFire (13 page)

Luca stared down at the ground. Finally he straightened and fixed his eyes on Dinesh. “Do you realize what you almost did? This would have been murder. Nothing more or less.”

Dinesh shook his head. I thought there were tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know you are,” Luca said. His voice was tired, but he reached out, hand steady, to clasp the younger man’s shoulder. “You’re a good man. We’re all good men and women here. That’s why doing this job, day after day, is so dangerous for all of us. But you can’t become like them. Like him. Not even a soldier any more, but a killer. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

Luca turned to look at those of us still standing silently in the flickering torchlight. “I don’t want it to happen to any of you. We’re fighting to restore justice and safety to these mountains, in the name of the king and the reia. The moment we forget that, the moment we’re just here to kill and inflict pain, then we’ll have become exactly what we despise. Just another bunch of thugs. We have to be better than this, my friends. We have to be better than them.”

I
lay on the pile of rugs and furs behind the screen in Luca’s darkened tent, stomach churning, fretfully turning my wolf tooth over and over in my hand. Birkin’s smashed-up face wouldn’t leave my mind. I went over the scene again and again, remembering Luca’s painfully steady hand reaching out to Dinesh, and the terrible anxiety I had seen in Arian’s eyes as Luca had gently led Dinesh away. Something very bad had happened. Not just what Dinesh had done. The way it had affected both him and everyone else.

Violence was an infection, and once it took root, it spread its black tendrils through everything that was good in people, and killed it all. Happiness, trust, love. Dinesh had tried to save Adela, and instead he had turned her against him, perhaps forever.

Just as I had done, with my own mother.

But Dinesh was only human. A normal human boy who had lost control of his normal human temper. Any human might make such a mistake, and repent, and be forgiven. I was not human, not truly. It wasn’t my own temper that I threatened to let loose upon the world, but the insatiable appetite of the Wolf, who hungered only for death.

If the Wolf had turned on Birkin, it would have ripped his throat out with
my
teeth. If Luca had caught hold of my shoulder as he had Dinesh’s, the Wolf would have turned on him too. There was no limit to the damage I could do to the people I … cared for.

If I had forgotten all this for a little while, then the sight of Birkin ought to have reminded me. I knew that I should be packing right now, planning to run away from this place and these people, to escape the violence by moving on as I had always done.

But I wasn’t. I didn’t even want to.

The strength and determination in Luca’s voice when he told his men that they were good had woven around my heart, forming an intangible armour against the doubts that tried to send me fleeing. Luca believed what he had said; believed it utterly. And somehow I felt – I
knew
– that the sheer force of that belief could make his words true.

Would
make his words true.

The canvas tent flap lifted with a rustle, and a cool finger of night air explored my face. I sat up.

“I know you’re there,” Luca said.

“I know you do. I was waiting for you.”

There was a pause. I heard no movement, but I imagined him walking across the tent. I was proved right by a scratch of flint, a spark and a flare of light. As Luca lit the oil lamp that hung from the wooden post in the centre of the tent, tiny bubbles and imperfections in the blown glass cast starburst patterns on the canvas walls and on Luca’s face, turning it into a mask of gold. I forced my gaze away, blinking.

Luca moved to sit on the edge of his bed. I knuckled the water out of my eyes and looked at him again. The illusion was gone. He looked tired. More than tired – exhausted. Worn out.

“I suppose you’re wondering what you’ve got yourself into,” he said. His voice showed his exhaustion even more than the deep line between his brows and the strain around his mouth. “I said I could teach you to control your rage. I boasted and bragged. And on your first day here, you see
this
. Proof that I haven’t taught my own men that lesson in over a year of working with them.” He let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know why anyone would believe I could help them after witnessing that.”

I wanted to offer him some kind of reassurance, but making up comforting sayings wasn’t something I had ever practised. “You said you believed in choices, not curses,” I said slowly, working it out as I went. “That hill guard, Dinesh – he had a choice, didn’t he? And he made the wrong one. What happens here when you make the wrong choice? Will you punish him and send him away?”

Luca’s head jerked up. “No! He’s a good soldier. What happened tonight was – it was too much for him. He loves Adela. He has loved her for a long time, even though she doesn’t care for him, and he knows it. He just lost control.”

“He won’t do it again?”

Luca shook his head. “He’s so ashamed of himself he was sick when he got back to the barracks.”

“Then you’ve answered your own question.”

“What question?” He rubbed his forehead, blinking tiredly.

“You did help Dinesh. You stopped him before it was too late; you made him see that he had done wrong. You comforted him, and you’ll let him stay and make up for what he did. What more could you have done?”

His words came out slowly, haltingly. “Yes, I–I suppose you’re right.”

“Luca, I didn’t come here because I expected you to … to snap your fingers and make me better. I just want someone to help me, the way you helped that boy. You said yourself that you can’t force people into things. They have to make their own choices and live with them. Have a bit of respect for Dinesh’s free will – and mine. We’re neither of us children.”

A tiny puff of laughter, genuine laughter this time, escaped Luca’s lips. “Point taken. No, you’re not children. And that’ll teach me to wallow in self-pity.”

I opened my mouth quickly, distressed that he had taken my words as a rebuke – then clamped my lips shut when I saw that the dancing gold light had come back into his eyes. I had managed to say something right. Best to shut up and not ruin it.

“Er…” Luca went on. “Please don’t take this amiss, but may I ask why you are lurking in my tent at this time of night, handing out common sense?”

“Because I don’t have anywhere else to go,” I said, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice. “I–I’d rather sleep in a
cave
than in the women’s tent with all those people around me breathing and muttering and snoring. Livia said you’d find me a place.”

“Hmmm. Are you sure you can’t make do with the women’s tent? You might get used to it.”

I shook my head emphatically, mentally promising myself that I would sneak off and sleep in a tree if Luca tried to insist.

He must have seen the stubbornness in my face because he sighed. “What about with Livia, then? It sounds as if the two of you are getting on quite well.”

“She said no. The beds have to be kept free for emergencies.”

“That’s a good point,” Luca said, his face darkening. I was sure he was thinking about Birkin and Adela. He paused and then said, “I’ve plenty of room here. You slept well in that little corner over there last night. You could stay with me.”

I stiffened instinctively, an icy shadow of fear brushing through my body. I shook my head again – a quick, wary jerk. When he moved, I flinched. But he was only clasping his hands on his knee, the long fingers entwining tightly. His eyes stayed on mine, even and patient. The shadow of the past slipped away and instead of being afraid, I felt guilty and ungrateful. Luca had already had a hundred chances to hurt me. But he hadn’t. He wouldn’t. He was … one of the good ones. And now I had insulted him. Why did I always get everything wrong?

I’d hesitated too long. Luca nodded resignedly. “All right. I can see you’re not happy with that idea.”

“I don’t – it isn’t—” I stumbled over the words, nearly choking on them. “I trust you Luca. I do. But … there’s a reason why the men and women’s tents are separate. What would people think if I slept in here?”

Luca blew out his breath, sending silky strands of golden hair flying. His cheeks suddenly looked a little ruddy. “Frost, whatever you’re worried they might think, they’re most likely already thinking it.”

I couldn’t look at him. “They are? Bu–but why?” I touched my hot cheek with one hand. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything. You didn’t have to. They’re soldiers. They gossip, they make wild guesses, they come up with dirty songs. Usually all at the same time.”

“About me? About you?”

“About everyone. I’m sorry. I ought to have warned you. It’s not bad-natured, and none of them are judging us – it’s just how they entertain themselves. You’ll get used to it.”

I was definitely not going to get used to it. “Maybe if you talked to them…” My voice trailed off. “That would just make it worse, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. And since there’s nothing you or I can do about it now, it’s senseless to allow it to influence your decision. If you’re not comfortable bedding down here, I’ll figure something else out. Otherwise, my tent is your tent.” He bowed from the waist, waving his hand in an exaggerated, foppish movement.

I fiddled with my wolf tooth, still avoiding his gaze. “Well. Well, I… All right, then.”

Luca tilted his head until he caught my eye. His quirked lips invited me to share the humour of the situation. Even though I wasn’t sure I found it at all funny, my mouth curved upwards, and when Luca let out a soft laugh, I snorted.

The tent flap lifted. Arian walked in, face grave and concerned, mouth already open to speak. He stopped dead when he saw Luca’s slightly flushed, grinning face, and his eyes shot to me.

The emotion that wrote itself on his face in that moment was so clear it made me ache. Arian had come to comfort his friend – but Luca did not need comfort. Luca did not need Arian. An eye-blink later the hurt and jealousy were gone, wiped away by his normal blank look. But it was too late. I had seen. And he knew it.

“What is she doing in here?” he asked, voice hard.

Luca’s smile faded a bit. “Why shouldn’t Frost be here?”

“For the love of the Mother, Luca!” Arian burst out, making me jump. “Why is she in this camp at all? She’s not even pretty!”

Luca looked first astonished at the petulant remark and then furious. Again, I thought I saw an emotion – shame? – flicker over Arian’s face for a second before he managed to hide it.

“We’re not – it isn’t like—” I stood up. I didn’t want to be the reason for their anger and unhappiness. I had already caused far too much of both in my life. “I think I should go.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself, Frost,” Luca said as he too got to his feet. “And you don’t have to go anywhere. Arian, you’re being incredibly rude. Even for you.”

Arian shook his head in disbelief. “This is just like that time you decided to run the rope bridge over the waterfall. And the time you swore to me that hornet’s nest was empty. And the time you promised me the old merchant was harmless. You have no concept of self-preservation at all! You act like you’re immortal, like nothing could ever bring you down—”

“Not this again,” Luca muttered.

“You don’t know who this girl is! She’s dangerous! She near as dammit killed both of us! She dug her way out of her cell with a spoon, led you a merry dance up and down the mountain—”

“And risked her life to save you and two innocent civilians.”

“That doesn’t mean you should bring her home with you! Why on earth would you want a half-mad foreign farm labourer with no training and no experience in the hill guard?”

“Because she’s special,” Luca said simply. “Before she even knew you, she twice put herself between you and a bandit, just because it was the right thing to do. ‘People shouldn’t have to be asked,’ she said. That’s the kind of potential you don’t let slip away.”

My face was on fire. I looked longingly at the door.

“You are not responsible for every stray that wanders across your path,” Arian growled.

When Luca spoke again his voice was a whisper. “You’re really going to stand there and tell me that? Where would you be right now if I hadn’t taken responsibility for you?”

I waited for Arian to come back with another reminder of how dangerous I was, but Luca’s words seemed to have ended the argument. Arian’s throat worked, and he looked down. Then, to my surprise, he turned his head towards me. With his eyes fixed firmly on the tent wall, he said, “I’m sorry. I was wrong to speak as I did.”

I nodded hesitantly, accepting the apology.

“I know you’re only trying to look to out for me,” Luca said gently. “You’ve always looked out for me. But please stop worrying, my brother.”

Brother?
My curiosity twinged – could they really be brothers, looking as different as they did? Why hadn’t anyone mentioned it? But I wasn’t the slightest bit tempted to interrupt and ask questions. I felt as if a hurricane had swept into the tent and very nearly carried me off. Without Luca’s intervention, it would have.

Arian clasped Luca’s forearm. Then he walked towards the tent flap and pushed it up again. He stopped there, looking back at me.

I realized he was waiting for me to follow him out. My cheeks, which had just been starting to cool, throbbed with fresh heat. I was ready to go after him just to end the excruciating embarrassment when Luca said meaningfully, “Good night, Arian.”

Arian nodded a curt “good night” to Luca and stepped outside. Luca stared at the tent flap for a long moment. Then his expression lightened. He turned to me, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Want me to see if I can charm a late dinner out of the cooks? We can have a night picnic and talk about your training.”

Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help grinning at his look of boyish glee. The cares that had weighed him down when he had first returned to the tent seemed to have vanished. “Lead on, Captain,” I said.

We had only been in the new village a few days when I realized that the boy was following me.

I couldn’t say how I knew. He never tried to talk to me, and only ever looked at me from the corners of his eyes. Yes, he always seemed to be wherever I was, but half the time he had already been at the grain store or the well before I arrived, and after all, it was a small village. People were bound to bump into each other.

The boy’s name was Werrik. He was eighteen, a man grown by most people’s standards, even with his long, awkward limbs and blemished face. Yet Werrik did no work. He laboured at no trade. The men did not take him with them hunting, nor did he till his rich, widowed mother’s fields. She hired others for that. The women of the village twitched their skirts aside as he passed and whispered behind their hands – but the whispering always stopped as soon as Ma or I came near.

We were newcomers, practically foreigners, for all that Ma tended them and healed their children, and they would not share their secrets with us. It was not worth the chance that their words might get back to Werrick’s mother who paid so many of their husbands’ wages.