“...Corin?” Niel asked, still braced for the blow. He’d been certain his brother was headed to Yovren with his former knight-master, off to visit the castle he’d spent four years training out of to earn his shield.
But then, Yovren was about as south as castle Ashbrin. And if Corin cut through the Hulder wood to reach Yovren, from there, the Dracheban road would connect the county seat to the March of Ashbrin. Could his brother be headed there instead?
A dense weight settled in Niel’s stomach at just the thought of that place.
“Is it something to do with it all?” Bradhan asked. “With why you hate us?”
Niel stared in disbelief. There was nobody to overhear them. Why was Bradhan feigning innocence?
“You must know,” Niel said flatly.
“I wish I did. Will you tell me, Niel? What insult did my uncle give that you find so hard to forgive?”
“Nobody’s listening,” Niel said, noting that Melchior and Herdan were engrossed in their own tasks, Melchior caring for the two warhorses while Herdan heated drink and food over the fire. “You don’t need to play the fool.”
Bradhan only blinked at him.
“Was it something he said?” Bradhan asked.
Niel clenched his jaw and didn’t answer. He stared straight ahead instead of looking at the other knight. Ayla had asked if Bradhan even knew. But surely a man would know if there were monsters in his own family. Surely every Ashbrin had known who Hannes was, especially after Niel’s father went to court to demand Hannes be punished. Even if the Queen had declined to do so.
He heard Bradhan sigh heavily.
“I wish,” the older knight said, his words slow and careful, “we needn’t have been enemies. Corin told me of the difficulties he caused you. I don’t hate you, Niel, for all I probably should. I wish there was something I could say, to makeyouhatemeless.”
Bradhan turned awkwardly, crutches thudding softly against the snow as he struggled to maneuver.
There was no reason for him to pretend now, with Niel in chains.
“You just said it,” Niel told him. Bradhan glanced over his shoulder.
“What?”
“You really don’t know. What he is? What he did to me?”
Bradhan’s forehead creased, his lips parting slightly.
“What are you on about, Niel?”
Niel tried to swallow the lump in his throat.
“I should not have tried to kill you,” Niel rasped. “I was owed revenge. But none of us can help our bloodline. I am sorry for that.”
He couldn’t regret Bradhan’s leg, which had been lost trying to take back Blackfell. But the rest of it. The tournament at Liron; the near-execution in the castle courtyard.
Perhaps, he finally admitted, Bradhan was not his enemy. The world held monsters, but it was also full of ordinary people simply living their lives.
Bradhan kept staring at him for a long moment, the knight’s brow still knotted. Niel had looked away again, but he could feel the man’s gaze on him. It felt like ages before Bradhan limped away. Niel slumped back against the tree and closed his eyes.
He could hear two soldiers fighting at the fire over from theirs. One of them had set down his bowl of supper and was sure the other had taken it; the other insisted the bowl he was holding was his own. They sounded moments away from brawling.
“Here, Niel,” Herdan said. Niel opened his eyes to find the older knight squatting by the fire, looking at him levelly. The cold wind prickled at the damp of Niel's eyes. “You’ll stay put if I let you feed yourself, won’t you?”
Niel nodded, feeling exhausted suddenly. Herdan loosened the rope on his wrist’s shackles, but left the one around Niel’s waist. Then a hot cup of cider and a steaming bowl of porridge and boiled hare were in Niel’s hands. He didn’t care how bland the meal was. It was hot.
“Thank you,” he mumbled, as Herdan turned away.
The older knight gave him a surprised look, then nodded with a soft smile.
