Book of Water

Chapter 18

18

Bradamante sat in the dark just below the crown of the ridge. She leaned back against the cold hard rock. She wore her leather chest armor in case Rogero attacked in the night again. She also wore her long woolen cloak and was grateful for its warmth. The air felt misty and wet, even without the rain. Gusts of chill wind punched over the top of the ridge. It was early autumn, and each night she spent guarding the pass felt a little colder than the one before.

Rinaldo had taken up a position further away. Even after the attack by Rogero’s army, Orlando still refused to assign any of his own men to the night watch. So Rinaldo continued to divide his own troops into the two separate shifts. Normally Bradamante joined the second.

She wished now that Rinaldo had not asked her to take Jara’s place on the first watch. Her time would be better spent in a vision at the white house, asking Manat to solve the mystery of Michaela.

What mystery? You’re jealous. There’s no mystery in that.

Bradamante turned and pulled herself up high enough to peer over the top of the pass. Everything in the clearing below looked dark and featureless and safe. No movement so far tonight. Good.

She could see other soldiers at their stations all along the ridge surveying the land below them. Everyone seemed alert. That was good, too.

She sat back down and hugged her knees into her chest and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her.

She had learned that her eyes needed contrast. She could see best if she didn’t stare too long. So she made a habit of rising and looking every minute or so, then purposely resting her eyes for an equal amount of time.

Unfortunately, her mind also rested during those moments, and at rest it returned to the same maddening thoughts.

Was it true? Was she jealous? She didn’t want to think that about herself. It felt so small and petty and weak. None of those were qualities she wanted to have.

Manat was never that way. What would she say about Bradamante’s behavior?

“Why did you slap Astolpho? After you seemed so happy to see him alive?”

How could she tell her the truth, when Bradamante barely wanted to admit it to herself?

It was because Michaela was beautiful. Despite her strange, dirty clothes, anyone could see that. And she had a power Bradamante would never have.

Astolpho was a man as well as a monk. He wasn’t made of iron. Of course he had fallen in love with Michaela. Anyone could see that, too.

The way he held her. Spoke about her. Treated her. More tenderly than Bradamante had seen him treat anyone else. Including her.

She felt ashamed by how much she hurt. She couldn’t tell Manat or Jara or anyone. She wished she didn’t know it herself.

Bradamante turned and looked over the pass again. The rough rocks felt cold and sharp against her bare hands. Where was Rogero right now? Was he preparing another attack?

She tried to think of that, and nothing else. But her mind continued to stray.

Yes, she missed him. Despite how angry she had been, she missed him.

Astolpho was part of her life. For so many years. Connected to her in ways no one else could ever be. Even before she knew him, he had visions of her. Why? Who were they to each other? Out of all the people in the world, why had he seen visions of her?

And Michaela. Remember he saw visions of Michaela. That’s why he went away.

Bradamante groaned. She checked the pass, then remained on her feet and paced. It felt good to move. To see her breath fogging the air. To swing her arms to stay warm. To try to imagine what she would do now if she saw Rogero’s men sneaking out from the trees—

They’re together right now. In Naldo’s tent. He carried her in so lovingly. He’s probably still holding her. He probably holds her every night.

What did it matter? Why should she care? It was only the shock of it, seeing them together, that made her feel this way.

She and Astolpho weren’t friends anymore. They could never be. Not after what he did.

They had been apart for an entire year. What if she had been the one to bond with someone else? Astolpho would have no right to be jealous. It might have been one of the men in her brother’s unit. Bradamante liked many of them. They were strong, some were funny, many of them treated her with respect. Some were undeniably attractive. Perhaps some of them thought the same about her.

Check the pass. Still clear. No movement down below.

Then something made her tilt her head upward and look at the stars instead.

They shone crisp and bright against the dark sky. Just as they did the night before.

But Bradamante wasn’t here, guarding the pass then. She was standing outside her brother’s tent.

Crying. Praying. Begging.

Asking for someone to please come and save him.

Bradamante sat back down on the cold hard rock. She let out a heavy sigh. A white fog formed in front of her mouth.

All of this was wrong.

She cradled her head in her hands. She knew what Manat would say.

“He is not your destiny. It would be better to forget him. Michaela is his destiny. Be grateful to them both and then let them go.”

Astolpho had brought her a gift. He brought Michaela to save Rinaldo.

That was the only reason he came back.

It was in answer to Bradamante’s prayer.

But it didn’t change anything else. Whatever Astolpho and Bradamante once were to each other had ended a year ago.

Ended in blood and betrayal and heartache.

None of that had changed.

Bradamante peered over the pass. Still no sign of attack.

She sat down wearily and gathered her cloak around her. She hoped there would be no battle tonight. She felt as though she’d already been fighting all day. It was time to lay down her sword for the night.

She would thank Michaela in the morning. She had to. To do anything less was petty and weak.

And the next time they were alone, Michaela could pass on that gratitude to her lover.