Narrator:
The enormity of it is almost staggering. After all these years, here it is. Literally in her hands. Payment. And she is unable to move.
Blackbird: [unspoken]
DO IT! DO IT! NOW!
(He says he loves you.)
He would say anything to win! Two days! Two days and he loves me more than life itself? How long did it take Tiberious to tell me he loved me? How easy were those words for Ti?
(Then do it.)
[pause]
(Well?)
More blood?
(It is what you want. Bel: "YOU HAVE DONE *NOTHING* TO MAKE HIM PAY!" It is what Bel wants.)
I want Bel's hands back!
(Ahhh, well I do not think you will find this transplant method effective).
You are turning me in circles! I have to make Brandon pay.
(Then why are you waiting? I am not stopping you.)
[pause]
(You do not want to do this, do you?)
YES! YES I DO!
Narrator:
Brandon's eyes and hers are locked on each other. He sees a sudden look of sapphire intensity just as she brings the knife down and across in a smooth draw stroke. The feel of the knife biting into flesh reaches through her fingertips. Only a slight twitch of Brandon's cheek betrays any sign that he felt the cut. As she raises the knife for a second cut, she feels his blood running down onto the fingers of the hand that holds his.
Is that disappointment in his eyes? His face, aside from one twitch, has not changed.
She looks down at his wrist and sees the wound, deep enough to expose bone, bleeding freely over hers and into both their laps. The knife freezes in its path.
Blood. Is it the price of love? Who's love?
She meets his eyes again. Those eyes of almost perfect calm. Patient. Accepting. Waiting. For her.
Blackbird's breath catches in her throat. With a small anguished sound she reverses the knife
[slight reaction from his eyes]
-- and plunges it up to the hilt in the ground beside them.
[calmness returns]
Blackbird: [taking the edge of her robe and pressing it against his wrist.]
Oh, damn. Damn.
Narrator:
As she speaks, she begins to cry and cannot seem to stop. With both hands pressing her robe and his wrist together, she leans into him and kisses him.
Blackbird: [between kisses and tears]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry.
[unspoken]
(What is it you are sorry about?)
I'm sorry, Bel, I could not do it.
(Why? Because you believe Brandon?)
I don't know. I don't know. I've never been so confused. I want to be right. I wanted to know I was doing the right thing. Damn him for making me doubt.
[Pause. And a very quiet, calm voice speaks deep inside her.]
It was too quick. It was not time. It could have been the death of me. Not enough has happened to make me believe so much good of him. He could have betrayed me when he was sure I was committed. With blood on my knife and blood on my hands. Here in the camp of my enemies. "You know the penalty for attacking a nobleman."
(But you *do* want to believe him, do you not?)
I--yes. I know I should not. I know I should not let anything dissuade me. Nothing changes what he did. But this is not how I thought it would feel. I wanted to be sure I was right. I wanted him to be everything I have always hated and it is not like that. I want him to lie to me, so I can hate him.
(Methinks you are not as cold and vicious as you imagine yourself)
I'm sorry.
(Do not apologize.)
I want to do the right thing. I must find a way to do it all at once. I cannot break my word to Bel. And ... if I do find out Brandon lied to me, I *will* kill him.
(I would not blame you. Good luck, my little love. Don't forget to stay alive.)
Narrator:
She holds tight against Brandon, trying to stifle all the conflicting thoughts. She feels the blood on her hands, and realizes how tightly she is holding his wrist -- almost tight enough to cut off the circulation, but she can't will herself to move, to let go, to do anything but lean against him and wait for him to speak.
Brandon: [holding her close with his free hand]
I had not expected to see the moment. I had guessed that you either had not yet changed, or had done so before now. I saw what was the child Evaine take vengence, knowing that the world was exactly so. I saw that child finish growing up and become Blackbird, who understands that the world is complex, beyond just black and white. That there may be room for doubts. That things once sure might change.
I am sure that you can kill for love's sake. I was praying that you would not kill love itself for the sake of vengeance. When you reversed the knife, I feared that you were about to do yourself harm.
If you don't mind, I'd like to put something better than a robe on this wrist.
Narrator:
She is still not up to talking. He rummages for a bit and opens a small box. In it is what looks like spider web. He pulls some if it out and places it in the wound. The blood flow slows and the wound starts to heal. While not as effective as Titus' spells, it was greatly better than any normal means. He closes the box and gingerly holds her with both hands.
He returns her kisses and more.
Narrator:
Blackbird responds as if in a dream. Physically she wants this. Mentally, it is harder for her to accept now than when she completely loathed him. Now she has no excuses. But the longing that had dogged her all day is back, in full force. She is very aware that she is fighting to keep from letting things go pleasantly to their conclusion. His words make him harder to resist than before, matched only by her resolve.