“A word, if I may,” he beseeched her quietly.
She nodded to the guards, who lifted their halberds and let her through.
They walked to the end of the corridor and Bran waved her onto a small wooden bench under a window. This close, the damage was even more clear. There were streaks of salty residue on her cheeks and the faint beginnings of a bruise on her chin. His fault, all of it. He’d fallen into the worst trap of all: getting too comfortable in his stolen clothes. He’d begun to believe he was actually a marshal, a chivalrous knight capable of defending innocent young lasses. But he was not. He was a charlatan. Still, he was a man of his word, and he clearly owed Caitrina his best efforts to right this wrong.
Although his arms itched to gather her to his chest, he did not touch her; he dared not breach the stiff wall of resolve she had erected around herself. It looked too fragile to withstand a kindness, and given the words he was about to speak, she would not thank him for the gesture.
“I think,” he said slowly, “that there is more to this tale than you have yet shared.”
She stared at him, bleak and unspeaking.
There was no censure in her eyes, but he felt it anyway.
Although it pained him greatly, he continued, “You told me that Giric was only interested in information. That he was simply spying upon the queen and reporting back to his liege lord. As late as this morning, when I entered his camp and saw that he had fled, I believed your tale to be true. It made sense that a spy would flee the instant our suspicions were pricked.”
Caitrina sat perfectly still. Waiting.
“But the wagon in the close tells a different story. It’s quite obviously a warning. A threat.”
What little color there was in her cheeks drained away.
“He wants something from you,” he said. “And I must know what it is.”
Caitrina glanced away. Her clasped hands parted and she smoothed her palms over her azure skirts, the movement a little shaky. “You say that as if I could know what horrible thoughts a monster such as Giric would contemplate. I do not.”
If there was one thing that Bran knew well, it was a lie. And Caitrina was lying.
“He has asked you to perform some reprehensible deed,” he guessed matter-of-factly. “And he has threatened to slay Marsailli if you do not bow to his will.”
She leapt to her feet, bristling with indignation. “Why would you think such a thing? Only a traitorous wretch would give in to such demands.”
“Or a person willing to risk all for someone they love.”
“I amnota traitor.”
“Did I call you that?” He shook his head. “You are simply trying to save your sister.”
“It does not matter what you think,” she said hotly. She pointed down the hall at the closed doors of the queen’s chamber. “It matters whattheythink.”
Bran sighed. “Traitor, thief, liar—they’re all just words. Labels do not define us; our actions do. Tell me what Giric has demanded of you.”
“Gah!” She threw up her hands. “You’ve no understanding at all. They arenotjust words. My father was named a traitor, and it destroyed our family. His intentions were honorable; he was avenging the murders of his father and brother, but in the end that mattered naught. We were stripped of our title, cast from our lands, and forever shamed by that word:traitor.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “You think you are the only one with a sorry past? My father loosed his bowels upon the gibbet, strung up by his neck for thievery. I know full well the power of such accusations. But his actions do not define my own.”
“So says the man who makes his living as a thief.”
He nodded. “Aye, to the casual eye it may appear that he and I are of like mind. But we are not. His only motive was greed. Mine is... a story for another day. Today, our priority must be your sister. Tell me what Giric wants, Caitrina.”
She turned away, shoulders bowed, arms wrapped around her waist.
“What does it matter what he wants?”
Mostly, it was a matter of trust. Bran needed to be able to trust Caitrina, and as long as she was lying to him, he couldn’t. But there was a practical reason as well. “To thwart him, I must understand how far he will go to get what he desires.”
She slowly spun to face him. “If I tell you, you will despise me.”
“Nothing you say can make me despise you,” he said softly. “My belief in your good nature is unshakable.”
