Read Online The Forgotten Beasts of Eld by Patricia A. McKillip - Free Book Online Page B

mind that you might have come, that your brother might have sent you, to see if I were pledged to help Drede, since I gave Tam to him. Drede—Drede was a little afraid of me, because I called him here—”
“You called him?”
“Yes, but only to give Tam to him, nothing more. I did an unwise thing: I told him you had come here, too. So he is unsure of me, as now I think your brother Rok must be, too.”
“Oh, yes.” He smiled wryly, but his red brows were knit. “Where was Cyrin or Gules to give you advice? You are wise in things beyond men’s knowledge, but it was not wise to call a king insecure in his power, and draw him to you without his knowledge.”
“I told him he had nothing to fear from me.”
“And that reassured him, I suppose.”
“I doubt it.” Then she shook her head. “Oh, but why should it matter to me what he thinks of me, or what the Lord of Sirle thinks. Did Rok have anything to do with your coming?”
“I told you why I came.” His smile had gone, but his light eyes were steady on her face. She made a little, restless gesture.
“Yes. But how you would hear my lonely voice above all the voices in Eldwold, I do not know.”
“I know,” he said. “I love you.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but found suddenly she was wordless. Coren watched, a touch of color on the high bones of his face; when she laughed finally, his face flamed.
“Well. Drede offered to make me Queen of Eldwold—what have you to offer me?” She folded her hands on her lap and looked up at him, and found his eyes shocked, ice-blue.
“Drede,” he whispered. “Drede.” His clenched hands opened, closed on his knees. He drew a deep, soundless breath.
“Did you laugh like that at him?”
“No,” she said, surprised, and he rose abruptly. She heard the circle of his restless steps on the stones behind her. Then they came back to her.
“I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle,” he whispered. “I felt you troubled, deep within me, and there was no other place in the world where I would rather have been than in the cold night, riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home. I did not know you would hurt me so.”
Her lips parted as she heard the echo of her own words. Then she looked down at her taut, folded hands. “I am sorry. But, Coren, I cannot—I cannot trust you.”
“I see.”
“I— When I look at you, I see the shadow of your hatred, the shadows of your brothers behind you, wanting me, wanting to use me. You must—surely you must understand that.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes flickered up to him. He stood motionless beside her chair, his face still, colorless. She shifted a little, uncertainly. Then she touched his arm.
“Sit down. We are both tired and hungry. I have not slept since Tam left, and I am tired of arguing.”
“Sybel—” He stopped. He sat, not looking at her. He said after a moment, “If I swore—if I swore by my love for Norrel that I would never try to use you, or let anyone else use you against your will—if I swore that, would you begin to trust me a little?”
“Could you swear that?”
He met her eyes and nodded. “Yes. I will think of a way to kill Drede without involving anyone.”
“You will not!”
“But, Sybel, what am I to do?”
“You have five other brothers—be content with them.”
“I will not! I cannot—Sybel, Norrel—when I was younger, and so unsure of myself, of my strange knowledge—Norrel of all of them never laughed at me. I could tell him that in the Fyrbolg marshes I had seen the ghosts of men who died chasing the White Stag that the wizard Tarn had shaped out of smoke, and he would believe me. He would not understand, but he would believe me. He taught me how to ride, how to fight, how to hunt with a hawk. When he fell in love with Rianna, I fell in love with her, too, wanting her for him. When Drede killed him at Terbrec, I saw him fall. I could not—I could not reach him in time,