The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2) - Page 65

He began, “We came to your camp three days ago hoping to talk, eager to understand our Infidante better. But you lied to us.”

“Who’s lying now, Commander Mindall?” I countered. “You weren’t there to talk. You had other plans for the Infidante.”

His smile thinned. “A necessary act, before she turns on us, and you know that she will, in time. But for now, your captain promised you’d come to help us, and here you are.”

I glanced over at Basil, whose furrowed brow suggested I should keep my mouth shut. I started to respond, but Basil tilted his head. “What help do you need?”

Mindall’s posture eased as he turned to Basil. “We have a small camp set up nearby. Stay with us tonight, and tomorrow we will escort you into Nessel.”

He turned his horse with the obvious implication that we were to follow him. When we did, Trina rode up closer to him and said, “Commander, I hoped you might clear up a misunderstanding among my friends.”

“If I can.”

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She tossed me a sideways glance. “How did you know where Kestra was three days ago?”

His laugh was cold. “You cannot possibly think I will reveal that source.”

“This one is important. Did you receive a communication from a Corack telling you where she was?”

Mindall gave her what appeared to be a sincere nod of respect. “I will say this. On the night the Infidante was chosen, few of us cheered when we saw the blade in the hand of a Dallisor. We admired the way you fought for the Olden Blade, Trina, and we remember your mother. If you had contacted us, we would have heeded your call.”

Trina’s eyes widened at what Mindall had just implied. I only sent her an icy glare. “Was that the denial you were hoping for?”

“Simon, listen—”

“I will fight with you to protect the Hiplands, but do not mistake that for believing that you and I are on the same side of anything. I want nothing more to do with you.”

She started to answer, then clamped her mouth shut. Whatever else she denied, we both knew that a part of her hoped Kestra had never made it to the Blue Caves. Trina would never give up her wish to be the Infidante of Antora.

And I would never trust her again.

Loelle had explained to me every memory that she could, though she only knew a fraction of the thousands of images flashing through my head, some of them tiny details, and others, significant, life-changing events.

I remembered running through the corridors of Woodcourt and being scolded by Sir Henry. How I’d resented him, even then.

The opposite was true of my adoptive mother Lily, whom I’d loved more than life. I had a memory of leaning against a wall of her bedroom as her handmaiden dressed her in stiff formals for a supper in Lord Endrick’s palace. She’d smiled at me but there was a clear pool of dread in her eyes.

There often was. My mother must have felt like a sort of prisoner at Woodcourt.

So had I, at times. I used to climb trees in the gardens, keeping a silent perch overhead when Sir Henry passed by with his officers, making plans in support of Lord Endrick. I’d learned early to avoid the king, though I now hoped the day would come when he’d wish he had avoided me.

Other memories filled my mind too, though I couldn’t always place the year they had happened, or the setting, or who else had been with me. And when the memory conflicted with an idea that Lord Endrick had inserted into my mind, I couldn’t always separate one from the other.

With one exception: I understood perfectly that the Dominion was my enemy, and that any memory that suggested otherwise was false. Everything else was like a dammed-up river, a route my mind desperately wanted to travel upon, but which only leaked out the smallest of details.

“Give yourself time,” Loelle assured me. “You will sort this out.”

If only time was on my side.

And although I had thought Loelle and I were only in the Blue Caves for an hour or two, when we finally emerged, the sun was already peeking over the horizon. I stared at it, grateful for the promise of a new day rather than more cyclings from my past. “Is it morning already?”

Loelle smiled. “My lady, it’s been a full day and night since we entered the caves.”

I turned to her, confused. How was that possible, when I’d not felt tired or hungry once?

Tenger and Wynnow were waiting in a cove of trees near the cave entrance, seated around a small morning campfire. I recalled asking Simon for a fire only four nights ago, but he had refused, claiming it would be unsafe. I’d been cold then, when I should have been warm in his company. And I was warm now, standing before people who emanated a cold desire to use me for their own ends.

Tags: Jennifer A. Nielsen The Traitor's Game Fantasy
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