A Little Hatred (The Age of Madness #1) - Joe Abercrombie Page 0,171

Now, she was supposed to be safe.

She heard voices outside and spun, heart suddenly pounding. On some sluggish instinct from long ago, she thought of arranging herself to best advantage. A lady of taste should always be discovered in the midst of something more important. She reached up to adjust her wig, realised there was nothing there but her own shapeless, graceless, colourless fuzz. She ended up frozen, less a beauty arranged for a portrait, more a burglar surprised in a darkened hallway, one scabbed hand twisting the other as someone ripped the flap aside and ducked into the tent.

Orso.

The red and gold of his uniform looked impossibly vivid. In Valbeck, towards the end, everything had been the colour of dirt. He looked weightier than he used to. Or perhaps she was so used to seeing everyone famished that the merely well fed looked like members of another species. He had the strangest expression when he saw her. Horror? Pity? Disgust? He gave a kind of shudder and put a hand over his eyes, as though the sight of her was painful.

‘It is you,’ he whispered. ‘Thank the Fates.’ He took a step towards her but stopped awkwardly mid-stride. ‘Are you … hurt?’

‘No.’ They both knew she was lying, and not even with any conviction. She was mauled inside and out. She was torn apart and badly stitched back together.

‘Good.’ He forced a crooked smile. ‘You look well.’

She could not smother a bark of bitter laughter. ‘You always were a champion liar, Orso, but that one’s a little too big even for you to lift.’

‘You look beautiful to me,’ he said, holding her eye. ‘Whatever you might think.’

She had no idea what to say to that. She was a wretched understudy, kicked from the wings onto the empty stage and gazing horrified towards the crowd, not knowing her lines. Not even knowing the play.

When she finally spoke, it was a shock how calm she sounded. ‘There were some people with me. A family. I wouldn’t have—’

‘They are safe and cared for. You don’t have to worry about anything.’

‘Not worry,’ she whispered. She was nothing more than a sheaf of worries, held together by a shitty dress. ‘I’m sorry … you had to come here,’ she managed to dredge up. ‘I know how much … you wanted to go North.’

‘When I heard you were in danger, I didn’t think twice. I didn’t think once. Not that your father or mine were going to give me any choice. Probably best I leave the North to men’s men like Leo dan Brock. I think we can all agree I’m not really cut out to be a soldier.’

‘The uniform suits you.’

‘I may be a sheep on the battlefield, but when it comes to wearing the uniforms, I’m an absolute tiger.’

There had been a time she could talk for hours and beautifully say nothing. Now it felt obscene. Swapping light-hearted pleasantries while one party is shitting themselves all over the floor.

She felt an entirely unreasonable stab of fury. Why hadn’t he come sooner? Why had he sat out here waiting, the useless fucking coward? She wanted to tear at him with her nails. Instead, she vomited up compliments. ‘From where I stand, it seems you managed the whole business rather well.’

‘More by luck than skill, I rather think.’

‘Everyone’s alive.’ A flash of blood spattering that guard’s face as his arm was dragged into the grinding gears. Savine had to cough, swallow acid. ‘Most. Most are.’

‘You are. That’s all that matters. I’m so sorry it took me so long. To get here. To find you.’ He looked into her eyes with an intensity she could not stand to meet. ‘To realise … what I feel for you. I don’t see how things can carry on between us … the way they did before.’

She almost laughed at that. ‘Of course not.’ How could anything be what it was before, ever again?

‘That’s why …’ He looked ridiculously nervous. Crown Prince Orso, notorious for caring about nothing. How many women had he disappointed? Hundreds, most likely. He really should have learned to do it better.

‘That’s why …’ He took a hard breath. As if readying himself for some great act of courage. Savine lifted her chin. As if to give the headsman an easier task. He looked up at her. Guilty. Haunted. Ashamed.

Her patience snapped. ‘Just spit it out!’

‘I want you to marry me!’ he blurted. ‘I mean … shit!’ He wobbled awkwardly down to one knee. ‘This isn’t