“As I am king, obviously, he is passed,” Jorie stated curtly. “Doing this not knowing he had a daughter.”
Her face grew red.
“He would have wished to know this, and he would have wished it very much,” Jorie continued.
She straightened her shoulders. “And I would have wished to know he was King of the Mer.”
“And how is that important?” Jorie asked.
“How…?” Mother shook her head. “I knew not my daughter was a princess.”
“And my father knew not that he had relations with a woman who was intent to use him to impregnate herself to give her sterile husband a child, so perhaps we can call that a draw, hmm?” Jorie suggested.
With that, her gaze shot to me. “Silence—”
“Why?” I asked.
To this, she gave little short shakes of her head. “Why what?”
“This is a pertinent question, for there are many whys I could ask,” I replied. “Why did you do as he asked? Why did you allow him to treat me the way he did? Why didn’t you tell me he wasn’t my father so I would understand why he had no use for me? So that maybe I could seek my true father and find, not only him, but also that I had a brother? So that maybe I could know my father before he was gone? So that maybe I could find some love in my life?”
“I loved you,” she said meekly.
“You loved him,” I returned.
“I loved you.” She leaned toward me, “Silence, you must know I loved you.”
I did.
Though the love she had for me was not enough.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“Because you’re here,” she answered.
“Why are you here without him?”
She looked uncomfortable and did not reply immediately.
But True did.
Lounging on a sofa with his ankle atop his opposite knee, his arm about Farah seated beside him, he said false casually, “She’s sued for dissolution of the household, due to adultery, which I’ve granted. I have as well levied recompense at an amount that would break Bower Manor if your father wasn’t in a position to have to hand over his holdings, which he has, and his land and title, which he’s done. This latter punishment I imposed considering he committed treason. His title will be held, unrepresented, until your second child is born to which you, continuing as Countess of the Arbor, can bestow on him as Lord of the Arbor, or Lady, if it is a girl.”
My head slowly turned to look at Mars.
He was tapping a bored tattoo on the arm of his chair, his eyes on True.
“That was deftly maneuvered,” I murmured.
His gaze shifted to me. “Hmm?”
I rolled my eyes and turned my attention again to Mother.
“None of this really explains why you’re here,” I noted.
“Because you’re my daughter.”
“And?”
“And I love you and I wished to say how very sorry I am.”
“For what?”
This appeared to stymy her.
“I’m tiring of this,” Mars growled.
Truth be told, I was as well.
“She is a mighty witch, indeed, my little sister,” Jorie proclaimed.
I tipped my head back to look at him to see his silver gaze pinned to my mother.
He carried on.
“In your shame, you cursed her with her name.”
My attention jumped back to Mother.
The red was again in her face.
“But she broke your curse, did she not?” Jorie asked. “She made something weak into something strong. She took something void and made it into something beautiful. But this is often the way of things, is it not? A parent, so intent to make a child suffer for their own sins, certain in their hubris that these transfer to the next generation, and when the child doesn’t break under their parents’ guilt, in my estimation, that is mighty magic, indeed.”
Mother tore her gaze from Jorie and looked to me. “I did what your father—”
“You are not Airenzian,” Mars cut in. “You had a choice.”
“And if I made a different choice, you would not have the woman you so clearly love,” she retorted.
“And every time I have been around you, this surprises you,” Mars returned coldly. “That I love your daughter. I have always thought it was because you did not think the mindless, rutting Firenz could feel such emotion. But I must wonder if your surprise stemmed from the fact you wondered how your daughter earned it.”
Mother gasped.
Mars ignored it.
“Some time ago, Johan and I had a vexing conversation,” Mars went on. “I pointed out to him how he had not been a good father. This angered him to the point of action. I see now this was a mistake on my part. It earned me an enemy unworthy of me, which was a bother I did not need in having to deal with his mischiefs. I should have simply ignored him, and he would have gone away. This is what I will advise my wife to do with you.”
Mother’s head moved as if she’d been slapped.
“Mars,” I murmured.
“But my wife,” Mars continued, now ignoring me, “has her own mind. She knows that mind. She voices it. I listen to her. And I accede to her wishes, when they will not cause her harm. And this, I will do with what she decides about you.”
The room fell silent.
Mother had her eyes downcast and was looking beaten.
And my anger and grief at the loss of what I should have had but didn’t dissipated.
This did not negate the fact that I suffered a loss of what I should have had…
But didn’t.
“I went swimming today,” I said softly.
Mother lifted her gaze.
“It was so beautiful, swimming with Jorie. Being in The Deep, transformed. Inhabiting a part of me I lived my life never knowing was of me,” I shared. “But I always wondered. About so many things that were me.”
“I didn’t know either, Silence.”
“I know,” I replied.
Hope filled her face.
“Since he has known me, he has barely left my side,” I told her.
“I have noticed your husband’s devotion, and am glad for it,” she said earnestly.
“I wasn’t talking about Mars. I was talking about Jorie,” I shared.
She flinched.
“A brother. A father,” I said.
“I did not know,” she stated miserably. “I thought he was naught but a Zee.”
“Well, Mother, I have, of late, had the occasion to meet many Zees here in Airen. They fought alongside Cassius and Elena in the Battle of the Heights. They lost people they loved in a cause that is just. They are also amusing and full of life. They are not ‘naught but Zees.’ But regardless, if they had been of him, they would have been my family.”
“You know your father can be—”
“He is not my father.”
She shook that off with an actual physical shake of her body.
“I have made some poor decisions,” she admitted.
“Do you think?” Jorie murmured.
I threw a look at him over my shoulder.
His expression, when he caught my look, returned a silent “What?”
“But I’ve always loved you,” she persevered.
I turned back to her and brought us full circle.
“Why did you come here, to Airen, to me? From what True says, you are now Mistress of the Arbor, not simply its Lady. And you are this until Mars and I make our second child and he or she is old enough to assume their title. You have means. You have freedom. This land is at war.”
“You are here,” she repeated.
“And you cannot be alone,” I said quietly. “You cannot fend for yourself. You cannot make decisions or keep your own company. You were willing to do anything to keep him so you would not have to do any of this. And now that he is gone, you need me.”
I shook my head, feeling many things I did not wish to feel.
P
ity for my mother, which was something a child should not have unless that emotion was earned by something that was beyond their parent’s control.
Anger that I felt this pity.
And frustration, that she had come here, when all that was happening was happening, and in the midst of it, we could at any time have to face the Beast.
And she had come here so she could deliver the burden of herself on me.
“You are just like Uncle Wilmer,” I declared. “You need your life simple and you need someone else to make the decisions and take the responsibility.”
She lifted her chin. “My brother is a good man.”
“Maybe so,” I replied. “And some men might be good, but they should not be kings. And some women might be decent, but they should not be mothers.”
“Silence.” My name gusted out in a shocked breath.
“You will always have me, Mother. I will always have affection for you, and love. But I am a queen. I have a husband. He will, I hope, give me many children. I will always have responsibilities. You have a place in my life and my home. But I must warn you, you must understand your place. I cannot have the care of you. For you taught me one thing about which I agree. My husband comes first. But Mars taught me something far more important. For he will always come first, and when we make it, so will our family.”
With that, I stood and felt Jorie move and Mars unfold out of his chair beside me.
“I think with that, we should be done,” I proclaimed. “I will call to a servant to be certain a room is prepared for you. Then I will see you at dinner.”
And with a glance to True, who had also stood and was studying me proudly, and Farah, who was smiling encouragingly at me, I wrapped my fingers around my husband’s offered arm, and he walked me from the room.
Jorie followed us.
When we had exited, I stopped us and turned to my brother.
“Jorie, I can’t—”
He didn’t make me finish.
He bent low and kissed my cheek.
When he straightened, he said, “Well done, little sister. I’ll see you at dinner.”
I nodded.
He gave me a soft smile, turned and walked away.
Without a word, my husband led us to our bedchamber.
I disengaged from him when we were behind closed doors.
He stopped in the middle of the room and crossed his arms on his chest.
I went to the window and stared out at the grazing fields beneath the sheer cliffs outside Sky Bay.
“Silence?” Mars called.
“Was I too cold?” I inquired of the field. “Or should I ask? Should I think on it? Should I question a decision I made? An action I took? A word I uttered? I am queen. I should be decisive.”
“If you do not question and consider matters of import, before the doing of them, mio amore, as well as after, you will be a very bad queen.”
I looked to him, but I did not see him for my eyes were swimming.
And then I was in his arms.
I did not sob.
But I wept.
Mars allowed this for a bit, before he said into the top of my hair.
“You will forgive her, and we will look after her, Silence. All will be well.”
I nodded, my cheek brushing against his chest as I did.
“And I understand your struggle,” he murmured. “Is it a folly, to point out weaknesses to the weak who are thus, because the effort is futile as they’ll never understand? Especially if doing such does harm to ourselves? Or does one persevere in hopes that perhaps they’ll one day understand?”
He understood completely.
“Do you know the answer to that?” I asked.
“No. Except you must act on instinct. Which you did. That situation would never be right for her as well as for you. It could be you making it right for her, at the sacrifice of it doing any good for you. You decided not to sacrifice. And that, mia bellezza, I believe firmly was the right thing to do.”
Of course he would believe that.
He carried on.
“And now my instincts are telling me that my queen must rest, and as such, we will eat abed tonight, this after you nap.”
I tipped my head back to look up at him. “Mars—”
He shook his head, knowing what I would say. “She can have a meal with whatever others join her without you providing interference for her to make it easier, or she can call for a tray for herself. Tonight, I’m seeing to my wife in our chambers.”
As far as I could tell, his instincts were always right.
And now was no different.
“Thank you, my husband.”
“You are welcome, my wife.”
I sent him a shaky grin.
He replied by touching his lips to mine.
He guided me to bed.
I flipped off my slippers and entered it.
Mars threw a warm rug over me.
I curled up under it.
And it was my king who went to the cord, called a servant, had my mother seen to, and ordered a tray for later.
As for me.
I was exhausted.
Thus, I fell asleep.
145
The Dragons
Melisse
Riverburn Castle, Seat of Lord Felix Edgar, Gairn Plain
AIREN
The twisting stopped and their feet were on the ground.
She instantly felt that the bitter winter winds that swept up from the sea and whistled through Sky Bay were gone, and the cold here was merely chill.
Melisse looked up to Jorie, who was pulling his trident out of the dirt.
He then glanced about at the four other mermales who were doing the same.
When they all had their staffs in hand, and had jerked their chins up to their king, his eyes came to her.
“We will return,” he stated, turned, let fly his javelin, and he disappeared in a whirl about it.
She looked to Lena.
Lena, who another of the mermales had carried from the Bay on two magical throws of their tridents, also looked to her.
In the distance, they heard grunts and a number of thuds, a truncated shout, and in naught but ten minutes, five tridents embedded themselves in the dirt about them, and Jorie and his males had returned.
“The outer guard has been dealt with. I will give watch out here. You have but half an hour,” he warned them. “If you do not meet me right here,” he pointed with the elaborately—and fearsomely—fashioned end of his pronged staff to the ground, “you will learn what else this can do.”
He finished his statement bringing the “this” in front of him—his trident—and circling it twice before he leaned into it, staff end to the earth.
They nodded and quickly stole across the deserted bailey, each witch with a guard of two mermales.
Having made their plan before they left, they knew what they were about.
Thus, after Melisse swung her hand in front of her and they heard the locks open and the bolt slide across on the inside, these to the studded double doors to the castle, they made them, and two of the Mer pushed them open.
They entered.
Without hesitation, Melisse went up the hall.
Lena down it.
She had to magic three guards they encountered to sleep before they arrived at the door of the bedchamber they sought.
It, too, was locked.
She made swift work of opening it, entering, and moving directly to the bed, her guard at her back.
Without hesitation, she swept aside the curtains that held the draughts at bay.
The woman in the bed shot to sitting as if she’d been awake.
For a woman who lived her life, Melisse suspected sleep was rarely easy.
In these times, she doubted the woman enjoyed much of it at all.
“Who are you?” the lady of the manor asked.
Melisse didn’t answer.
She asked her own question.
“You have children
, yes?”
“I—”
“You have twenty minutes to get dressed, get them dressed, pack anything of importance to you, and make way to the town square. Your dungeons are of the now being emptied of the hostages your husband’s men took. I will rouse your servants. Anything, and anyone, left in this castle will not exist in an hour.”
“The Regent sends the dragons,” she whispered in horror.
Melisse opened her mouth to answer to this, but she got not a word out.
The bedclothes flew.
And then the woman flew.
Melisse left the room.
She found the servant’s quarters and emptied them by delivering the same message.
She was pleased to note that she did not have to waste precious time convincing anyone.
Some even had bags packed.
By the time she and the two Mer with her had cleared their part of the castle and sauntered out to where Jorie was standing, the exodus had begun.
She noted even the lady of the manor was carrying a rather hefty bag that, in racing after two young boys and dragging a little girl, all clothed warmly, she could not have had time to pack.
Melisse stopped next to Jorie and watched the procession.
Lena was not far behind in joining them.
“Is it empty?” Jorie asked.
She cast her senses through the space.
She then answered, “Nine guards. All unconscious.”
“Do we go and wake them?” Lena queried.
“No,” Jorie answered. “Come,” he grunted.
He then turned and strolled toward the guardhouse.
Melisse and Lena shared a glance before they followed him.
They moved through the guardhouse and across the drawbridge to the other side.
They then walked the short trek into the town.
Hearing the commotion, shutters were open with heads poked out, and doors were ajar with people standing on stoops to watch.
Jorie stopped in the town’s square, Melisse and Lena joined him, and the lady of the manor made haste to their position.
“I have conducted a rollcall. All are here, save, my husband’s, erm…”
Indeed, they had prepared for this.
It was smart.
And it gave Melisse relief.
“They should have chosen more wisely. Now they are casualties of war,” Jorie declared.
“You killed them?” she peeped.
The Rising Page 30