Crown of Stars (Crown of Stars 7)

“It would be easier for him were he to marry a proper queen, which he will not. Still, the captain knows her of old and speaks no ill of her, although some say she is a sorcerer and has used ill-starred magic to bind the regnant to her.”

She shook off his hand. “I know her of old, too. I’ll hear no ill words spoken of her. She is not what you say she is. Who has whispered these things? Who?”

He held up both hands as a shield against her anger. “Here, now. I’m only repeating whispers. She’s good to look on, as any man will tell you.”

Hanna snorted. “There is more to her than whether men think her attractive!”

“Thiadbold swears she can hold her own in a fight. That she saved the life of a Lion, in his old cohort, a few year back. We saw it ourselves, just a few days back.” He would not look at her. Somehow, the words embarrassed him. “She called flame right out from the treetops. It’s said she can burn a man alive, if she wishes.”

Hanna said nothing.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” He still would not look at her, and the sight of this big, strong man with a queasy look made her want for nothing more than to get away from him.

“I am not afraid of Liath,” she retorted. “Nor should you be.”

“Burned alive,” he repeated. “What matter my weapons and armor then?”

“Best, in that case, that the regnant keep her tied to his bed,” she said sarcastically, but he nodded in all seriousness.

“Perhaps so. Good strategy on the part of King Sanglant.”

In his eyes, evidently, Sanglant could do no wrong. Strange that he never mentioned that Sanglant had used his own sister as a hostage and later abandoned her with his enemies. That Sanglant had kept Bulkezu alive. That Sanglant had marched against his own father.

Yet what choice had the prince had? Henry had been possessed by a daimone. Sanglant had saved his father, or come as close as anyone could. The Lions had told her the tale of the battle under the wings of the storm, which had been told to them by the soldiers who had survived, those who had witnessed, those who had returned from Aosta and the death of their emperor and their hopes for empire.

All this she could now put together, the last story she needed to understand the events of those days when she and the others had been prisoners of the Arethousans.

“Well, then,” said Ingo uneasily, “I’ll get the lads started on that wall again. How many do you want to come with you?”

“None. If the enemy waits, it’s best if only I die.”

“Nay,” he said irritably, “I can’t send you out alone—”

“Hey!” Stephen shouted from the wall and a moment later a second sentry, posted farther down, called out as well. “It’s a man—he seems unarmed, coming out of the trees—he’s got only one hand…”

“Let me see.” Ingo laced his fingers under her boots to give her a boost up. “That’s Brother Breschius. Open the gate.”

She met him just beyond the ditch. He grasped her hand as she came up beside him. He had tears in his eyes.

“I feared for you,” he said, “when we heard the Lost Ones.”

“Sorgatani?”

“Unharmed. As am I, as you see.” He looked toward the walled convent. A score of heads had appeared along the wall, watching them, but no one ventured out. “She walked, last night, for we knew they would attack you.”

“Did she scatter them? We heard an ungodly wailing.”

“I know not what that was. Will you come? Liath did not return. Best we look for her.”

“Ai, God,” she whispered, sick at heart, with a dull grinding pain in her belly. Well, no doubt the worst would please Ingo, she thought furiously, hating him.

o;Who will you serve, Hanna, if you must choose?”

“Are you saying there may be civil war between them? The princess cannot feed herself, much less lead an army.”

“An army can be led in her name.”

“Who would do so? Her sister?”