“I believe there is some Gallean Barnice et Tarve in the cellar,” the healer replied. “That will have to do.”
“Eh,” the swordmaster said. “That could work out until I can come across something better.”
The healer left, and z’Acatto grumbled a little under his breath, then fixed his eyes on Cazio.
“We’re both still alive, I’ve noticed.”
“Indeed,” Cazio said. “Although it’s unclear to me exactly how.”
“You’re hardly scratched.”
Cazio glanced down at the copious bandages and dressings that covered his body. “It’s true,” he replied, “All thanks to that practice we had.” He then explained, as best he could, the events of the night before.
“Well,” the old swordsman said, when Cazio had finished, “these are matters that . . .” He trailed off, and for a moment seemed to fall asleep, but then he perked back up. “When are we going home?”
“I thought you were the one who said I ought to get out and see the world.”
“Well, we’ve seen plenty of it,” z’Acatto replied. “Now it’s time to lie in the sun and drink something from a good year for a while, don’t you think? It might even be safe to go back to Avella by now, but if it isn’t, I’m sure the countess would take us in again.”
His eyes narrowed at the expression that must have crept across Cazio’s face. “What?”
“Well,” Cazio said, “as it turns out, Anne is Princess of Crotheny.”
“You don’t say?” z’Acatto snorted. “Don’t you remember when the news came about William’s death, how those girls got so upset?”
“Well, yes, but I thought they were just upset because their emperor had died. I didn’t know it was her father.” He remembered how when he’d first met Anne, he had held back his own minor title to impress her at the most opportune time. Now he felt silly about that, as about so many things.
“You might have told me,” Cazio said.
“If I don’t make you use your own brain, it will turn into meal-mush,” z’Acatto retorted.
“Anyway,” Cazio pressed on, “her kingdom has been usurped and her mother taken prisoner. She’s asked me to come along and help reclaim the one and free the other.”
“Not your country,” z’Acatto said, suddenly serious. “Not your business.”
“I feel as if it is,” Cazio said. “I’ve come this far—I think I’ll finish it.”
“There is no ‘finishing it,’ boy. What you’re riding into is war, and that’s something you don’t want any experience with, I promise you.”
“I’m not afraid of war,” Cazio told him.
“Then you’re a fool,” the swordmaster spat. “Remember how I told you fighting a knight was nothing like one of your noontime duels?”
“I remember,” Cazio said. “You were right, and thanks to your advice I’ve survived.”
“Then listen to me one more time, even if it’s the last time,” z’Acatto said. “Whatever you imagine war is, you’re wrong. It’s terrible, and being brave doesn’t help. It’s not dying in a war that’s the worst thing, it’s living through one.”
Cazio held his gaze firmly. “I believe you,” he said. “And I believe you speak from experience, though you won’t talk about it. But I feel this has become my duty, z’Acatto. I think I belong in this fight, and I think I should have earned enough respect from you that you wouldn’t imagine I still make decisions like a boy. I may not know exactly what I’m walking into, but my eyes are open.”
Z’Acatto sighed and nodded. “You’ve traveled farther than your leagues, Cazio,” he said at last. “And you have learned some judgment. I finally see the character I knew you had in you starting to come through. But take my council on this. Go home with me.”
“You can’t travel now,” Cazio said, “but when we’ve set things right in Eslen, you can join us there.”
“No,” the old man said. “As soon as I can travel, I’m returning to Vitellia. If you go north to this mess, you’ll go without me.”
Cazio drew his damaged blade and raised it to attention. “I salute you, old man,” he said. “What you did last night was beyond belief. I will never forget it as long as I live.”
“You’re going,” z’Acatto said flatly.
“I am.”
“Then go. No more pretty words. Go. Azdei.”
“Azdei, mestro,” Cazio replied. He was suddenly terribly afraid that he was going to cry.
Neil knelt before Anne and tried to hold himself steady on one knee, but his body, racked by pain and exhaustion, betrayed him, and he fell. He caught himself with his hands.
“Ease yourself, Sir Neil,” Princess Anne said. “Sit, please.”
He hesitated, then stood and slumped onto the bench. Bright and dark spots danced before his eyes. “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he mumbled. “I’m just out of breath.”
The princess nodded. “You’ve been through much, Sir Neil,” she observed, “and some of it has been because of me. I did not trust you in z’Espino.”
“That is clear to me, Your Highness.”
She tucked her hands behind her back and regarded him with a solid gaze. “I wronged you,” she said. “And you almost died. But I had my reasons. Do you doubt me?”
Neil found that he didn’t.
“No, Your Majesty,” he said. “I understand what your position was. I should have made more of an effort to convince you.”
“I am not queen, Sir Neil,” the princess said softly. “You should not address me as ‘Majesty.’”
“I understand, Your Highness,” Neil replied.
She lay a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you survived, Sir Neil. I am most glad.”
Neil heard the apology there—an apology without weakness. A very regal sort of apology that sent a little thrill through him.
I serve someone worthy, he caught himself thinking. He hadn’t known Anne before, not really. But he did know she hadn’t been like this. Something basic in her had changed; she had been a girl. Now she was something much stronger.
“Ah, Cazio,” he heard Anne say. Neil glanced up to see the Vitellian had joined them.
“Mi Regatura,” Cazio said, a bit cockily. But then, as if the gesture pained him, he dropped to one knee.
Anne regarded him for a moment, then nodded and said something to Cazio in Vitellian.
“I must see someone else, now,” she told Neil.
Neil made the sign of blessing, and Cazio made a similar sign, then they both rose. As Anne left, the Vitellian looked at Neil.
“I speak not well your tongue,” he managed in an incredibly thick accent. “But I listen, no? You brave man. You brother.” He held out his hand.
Neil clasped it. “It was an honor to fight beside you,” he said.
“She—” the Vitellian pointed after Anne, struggling for words. “Not the same,” he finally managed.
“No,” Neil breathed. “She is a queen now.”
Anne gazed down at Roderick’s corpse. Vespresern had already washed him and laid him in a winding-sheet. Now she stood weeping as Anne and Austra looked on.
“He died bravely,” Anne ventured.
Vespresern turned hard eyes on her. “He died for you,” she said. “I can’t imagine you’re worth it. He loved you. He was mad with love for you.”
Anne nodded, but she didn’t have anything to say. After a moment, she left, with Austra following her.
The two women went up to the battlements, so Anne could feel the wind. The threat of rain was long gone, and stars blazed in the night sky.
“I thought I loved him,” Anne said, “and then I thought I hated him. Now I don’t feel much of anything but pity.”
“Why?” Austra said. “Anne, his father must have told him to court you. They planned to kill you all along, and Roderick was an instrument of that plan.”
“I know. And if I hadn’t cursed him with love, he would have killed me himself, I’m sure. But I did curse him, and cursed him again. He died for something he didn’t even understand. Like that horse, remember? Duke Orien’s horse? It broke its leg, and we were hiding in the hayloft and saw them kill it? You could see in its eyes, it didn’t understand what was happening to it.”