"We were on our way to the stables, Lady."
Ah, yes, to the stables, to visit Small. And his many horsey friends – a number of which, presumably, had short, descriptive names.
Fire could have gone to Clara immediately to hear the story of how a prince of twenty-two had ended up with a secret daughter nearing six. Instead she waited until her bleeding was over, and then she went to Garan.
"Your sister tells me you work too much," she said to the spymaster.
He looked up from his long table of documents and narrowed his eyes. "Indeed."
"Will you come for a walk with me, Lord Prince?"
"Why should you want to walk with me?"
"Because I'm trying to decide what I think of you."
His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, a test, is it? Do you expect me to perform for you, then?"
"I don't care what you do, but I'm going regardless. I haven't been outside in five days."
She turned and left the room; and was pleased, as she moved through the corridor, to feel him weaving through her guard and falling into place beside her.
"My reason is the same as yours," he said in a patently unfriendly voice.
"Fair enough. I could perform for you if you like. We could stop for my fiddle."
He snorted. "Your fiddle. Yes, I've heard all about it. Brigan thinks we're made of money."
"You hear about everything, I suppose."
"It's my job."
"Then perhaps you can explain why no one's ever told me about Princess Hanna."
Garan glanced at her sideways. "Why should you care about Princess Hanna?"
It was a reasonable question, and it pricked at a hurt Fire hadn't quite acknowledged yet. "Only to wonder why people like Queen Roen and Lord Brocker have never made mention of her."
"Why should they mention her?"
Fire rubbed her neck under her headscarf and sighed, understanding now why her heart had wanted to have this conversation with Garan of all people.
"The lady queen and I speak freely with each other," she said, "and Brocker shares all he learns with me. The question isn't why they should have mentioned her. It's why they've taken care not to."
"Ah," Garan said. "This is a conversation about trust."
Fire took a breath. "And why should the child be kept secret? She's only a child."
Garan was silent for a moment, thinking, now and then glancing at her. He steered her across the palace's central courtyard. She was happy to let him choose the route. Fire still got lost in the labyrinths of this place, and only this morning had found herself in the laundry when she'd been aiming for the blacksmith's shop.
"She is just a child," Garan said finally, "but her identity has been kept quiet since before she was born. Brigan himself didn't know about her until she'd been alive four months."
"Why? Who was the mother, an enemy's wife? A friend's wife?"
"No one's wife. A stable girl."
"Then why – "
"The child was born the third heir to the throne," Garan said, very low, "and she was born to Brigan. Not Nash, not Clara, not I. Brigan. Think of the time, Lady, six years ago. If, as you claim, you've been educated by Brocker, you'll know the danger Brigan faced as he grew into adulthood. He was the only one of the court who was Cansrel's open enemy."
This silenced Fire. She listened, shamed, as Garan unfolded the story.
"She was the girl who cared for his horses. He was sixteen, barely, and she was, too, a pretty thing; goodness knew there was little joy in his life. Her name was Rose."
"Rose," Fire repeated, woodenly.
"No one knew of them but four in the family: Nash, Clara, Roen, and I. Brigan kept her quiet to keep her safe. He wanted to marry her." Garan laughed shortly. "He was an impossible romantic rockhead. Luckily he couldn't, and keep her secret."
"And why was that lucky?"
"The son of a king and a girl who slept with the horses?"
It seemed to Fire it was rarely enough one knew a person one wished to marry. How unjust then to meet that person, and be kept from it because one's bed was made of hay and not feathers.
"Anyway," Garan continued. "Around that time Cansrel convinced Nax to throw Brigan into the army and send him off to the borders, where presumably Cansrel hoped he'd get himself killed. Brigan was angry as a hornet, but he had no choice but to go. Shortly thereafter it became clear to those of us who knew Rose that he'd left part of himself behind."
"She was pregnant."
"Precisely. Roen arranged for her needs, everything secret of course. And Brigan didn't get himself killed after all, but Rose died giving birth to the child; and Brigan came home, all of seventeen years old, to learn in one day that Rose was dead, he had a child, and Nax had named him Commander of the King's Army."
Fire remembered this part. Cansrel had convinced Nax to promote Brigan far beyond his capability, in the hopes that Brigan would destroy his own reputation with a show of military incompetence. Fire recalled Brocker's pleasure and his pride when Brigan, through some impossible feat of determination, had turned himself first into a credible leader and then into an uncommon one. He'd mounted the entire King's Army, not just the cavalry but the infantry and bowmen. He'd raised the standards of their training and raised their pay. He'd increased their ranks, invited women to join, built signal stations in the mountains and all across the kingdom so that distant places could communicate with each other. He'd planned new forts with vast grain farms and enormous stables to care for the army's greatest asset, the horses that made it mobile and swift. All to the effect of creating new challenges indeed for the smugglers, looters, Pikkian invaders – and for rebel lords like Mydogg and Gentian who were forced now to take pause and reassess their own small armies and dubious ambitions.
Poor Brigan. Fire almost couldn't fathom it. Poor heartbroken boy.
"Cansrel was after everything of Brigan's," Garan said, "especially as Brigan's power increased. He poisoned Brigan's horses, out of spite. He tortured one of Brigan's squires and killed him. Obviously we who knew the truth of Hanna knew not to breathe a word."
"Yes," Fire whispered. "Of course."
"Then Nax died," Garan said, "and Brigan and Cansrel spent the next two years trying to kill each other. And then Cansrel killed himself. Finally Brigan was able to name the child his heir, and the second heir now to the throne. But he did so only among the family. It's no official secret – much of the court knows she's his – but it's continued to remain quiet. Partly out of habit, and partly to divert attention from her. Not all of Brigan's enemies died with Cansrel."
"But how can she be an heir to the throne," Fire asked, "if you're not? Nax was your father, and you're no more illegitimate than she is. Plus, she's female, and a child."
Garan pursed his lips and looked away from her. When he spoke, it wasn't to answer her question. "Roen trusts you," he said, "and Brocker trusts you, so you needn't worry your monster heart. If Roen never told you about her grandchild, it's because she's in the habit of never telling anyone. And if Brocker never told you, it's probably because Roen never told him. And Clara trusts you too, because Brigan trusts you. And I'll admit Brigan's trust is a strong recommendation, but of course, no man is infallible."
"Of course," Fire said, dryly.
One of Fire's guards brought down a raptor monster then. It fell from the sky, golden green, and landed in a patch of trees out of their sight. Fire became aware suddenly of their surroundings. They stood in the orchard behind the palace, and beyond the orchard sat the little green house.