I turned toward him when he halted. The fury and tension of the night still hung between us like a thunderhead. I knew that he had reached the end of his strength and that only a little resistance on my part would make him mine. I broke an icicle from a frozen branch to use as a weapon and dragged it across his cheek.
He stood still and closed his eyes, but did not attempt to reach for the knives at his waist. I ran the ice over his throat, sharp as a hunting knife and even colder, held the crystalline blade beneath his chin and watched the reflected sunlight dancing there. "Even now you seem undefeated," I whispered, "and though I might take you easily I do not really want your inheritance. It is your self, your soul, that I envy. More than anything I want your birthright without shame, your clean lineage."
"You can never have that," Lleu said, with his eyes closed and his head held still; though one of his hands had flown to his ashen face, almost accidentally, guarding his eyes. "How can anyone change that?"
I trailed the ice across his gloved palm, then took him by the wrist and eased his arm back down. Lleu opened his eyes cautiously, dazzled by sunlight and the sparkling ice so close to his face. "I cannot change it," I admitted, "but with you at my mercy I can make my father acknowledge that the fault was his. That I am no more a creature of my mother’s making than he is."
"Not her creature!" Lleu burst out. "Why else would you ransom my life to solace your own bruised pride? No one cares who your parents were! People admire you or despise you for yourself, for what you have made yourself. What have I to do with it? You do not envy my parentage, you envy me."
I stood gazing at him without any answer to give, feeling myself to be so base, so wrong, so ruined. My fingers were locked around his wrist as surely as steel. He said half wondering, "Ai, my brother, you are so strong and light in form, so wise and deft in mind, so gentle and true in semblance…"
"So ruthlessly cruel in truth," I finished, whispering.
Now tears began to glitter cold and hopeless across his face.
I turned his hand over and broke the brittle ice easily across his palm. There was hardly anything for him to feel: a touch of chill through his glove, then shattered crystals melting to nothing on his open hand. "It’s only water, Lleu," I said quietly. "If I held such a thing to your sunlit face for much longer than two moments it would dissolve into air." I brushed my fingertips across his cheek and smeared the tears there. He sank to his knees in the snow. The sunlsnoomeight was cold through the bare trees, and the ground was frozen and desolate. "Lleu," I said softly, and reached for his hands to help him back to his feet.
"I can’t," he whispered. "I can’t, I can’t."
I knelt beside him. "Lleu, get up. You’ve no cloak. You’ll freeze."
"You’re going to kill me, anyway," he whispered, too tired to raise his voice.
I shook my head, speechless, desperate with remorse and self-hatred. He did not notice. Holding him steady with one hand, I undid the clasp at my shoulder and took off my cloak, spreading its soft folds over my knees and the bright snow around us. I drew him close; and too frozen and exhausted to object, Lleu collapsed onto the warm wool and leaned against my chest, folded in my arms. He began to cry in earnest, sobbing with his face buried in my jacket, then crying uncontrollably in breathless, shrieking gasps that tore through his entire body. "Don’t," I whispered. "Don’t."
When his sobs began to sound less like screams I rested one cheek against his hair and bent over him, cradling him like a child. He clutched at my jacket with cold, clenched, tear-wet fingers. I laughed a little. "You cling to me so—do you still trust me, after all this?"
He said in a low, broken voice, "I have always trusted you."
Then of a sudden he stopped crying. He twisted around in my arms so that he could see me. "If you would kill me," he said, "kill me now."
Having said that, his voice grew stronger. "Do it. Do it! Stab me and leave my body to whatever creatures roam this wood, and no one will ever know. No one will ever blame you."
I whispered, "I could not butcher you."
He was guessing, daring, with his life forfeit if he were wrong. But he knew he was right. "Then leave me here," he said. "I can’t walk. I don’t know where I am. I would be dead of cold by evening, and again you could escape blame." He choked, half weeping still, and burst forth, "I am your brother! You are my friend! You are the single person I have most admired and imitated and envied my entire life! If you hate me so for my heritage, then I do not want it, I cannot bear your hatred. So leave me here! Kill me!"
"I can’t," I gasped. "I can’t. I can’t kill you. I love you."
You see what it took to make me know this.
I held Lleu fiercely, shaking, my face turned away, and lashed myself with degrading epithets: serpent, seducer, defiling deceiver, corrupted outcast, traitor and toad. But to revile myself did nothing to help Lleu. He sobbed a while longer, frustrated in his exhaustion, though he had triumphed over me in a way he could never have planned. His unconditional trust and love were prizes I never knew I coveted, infinitely more powerful and more healing than the fear I had tried to exact from him. He whispered at last, yawning, "You are not evil, but you are so torn! What drives you? If I became high king you’d have more power than any man in Britain, but you choose to follow Morgause."
"She taught me all I know of cruelty, that’s true," I said. "But Lleu, you brought on the fury that drove me to attempt such a thing. When you’re unwilling to do as your father tells you, does he invoke his power as high king and say that it is not within your riwitove me ght to disobey him?"