by T. C. Edge
The boy looks at me with the expressionless eyes of his people, before stepping to one side to allow her a good look at me.
A small frown drops over her eyes.
“Brie, I’m surprised to see you up and about this early.”
I stand motionless, the electronic file to my side. Her eyes fall to it, and then lift once more.
“Come in, come in,” she says. “It looks like you have something on your mind.”
As I step forward, she asks Timothy to wait outside. He does so without question, slipping from the room and gently shutting the door. The place is quiet and empty but for the old lady behind the desk, the tech station now without Alfred and the likes of Beckett, Rycard, Freya, and her advisors either sleeping or tending to business elsewhere.
And Zander…I wonder what he’ll make of all this.
Lady Orlando is nothing if not perceptive. She’s adept at doing something most of her kind cannot – reading emotion. The flat demeanour I’m trying to portray clearly isn’t doing its job. Because behind my eyes, there’s a turmoil and rage that she’s able to easily make out.
“Sit down, Brie,” she says, her calm just about maintained as her eyes once more find the tablet in my hand. “I suspected this day would come eventually.”
I stop, before sitting, and cock my head. The impassiveness of my expression gives way to something else; a slightly surprised stare.
“You know why I’m here?” I ask, still standing behind the chair in front of her desk.
She nods coolly.
“I think I have a rather good idea. Please, sit.”
I pull back the chair, move round the side, and drop slowly into it, my eyes never leaving hers. I know I’m not supposed to read her thoughts, but right now it’s so tempting to nip inside and see what she’s thinking.
I refuse the urge, however, and lay the file down on my lap, just below the desk and out of the view of her eyeline. She sits up a little.
“Artemis’ file,” she says. “I should have had it destroyed…”
My frown deepens.
“To hide the evidence,” I say, shaking my head. I lift the file from my lap and place it on the desk in front of me. “Is it true? Is Cromwell my grandfather? Are you…are you my grandmother?”
My voice has a pleading quality, begging perhaps for my assertions to be denied, my assumptions put straight.
She reaches out with thin, arthritic fingers, sliding the file over towards her. Looking down at it, she presses the button to activate the screen, and it begins to glow white in the dimly lit room.
“It’s true,” she breathes. “You are the daughter of the girl that was taken from me. You are my blood, Brie.”
Despite already coming to that conclusion, her words have an impact on me. I draw in a heavy, abrupt breath, blinking more than I should and setting my hand to cover my mouth.
My head shakes violently, and Lady Orlando inspects me closely. Then she stands, moves around the table as swiftly as she can manage, and hovers above me, her arms reaching forward to draw me into a hug.
I recoil, leaning back.
“Why…why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell Zander?!”
I look up into her face and see the emotion, more than she has ever displayed. Her eyes are crinkled in a vicarious pain, a pool of shame and memory filling them.
“I wanted you to know. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you both,” she says.
I stand from the chair. I can’t be this close to her. Stamping off into another corner, I turn my back and shake my head. I need more. I need an explanation.
I swivel on my heels and guide my Hawk-eyes right at her. I plan to drive straight into her mind and discover it all for myself, but find her gaze elsewhere, the web of wrinkles around her eyes deepening as she looks at her old hands.
“My mother,” I say. “Cromwell…he killed her? He killed his own daughter?”
She nods slowly, her posture coiling closer, shoulders hunching in grief at the memory.
The delay in her answer forces the cool out of me. I lose it, my words rumbling from inside me, her incessant poise starting to grate.
“TELL ME!” I shout. “TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!”
My raised voice is enough to have Timothy re-enter the room. The door swings open and his pristine, blank face appears.
“Is everything OK, Lady Orlando?” he drones.
She doesn’t have a chance to answer.
“Yes, Timothy, it’s fine!” I say, glaring at him. “Leave us alone!”
He ignores me, still looking at Lady Orlando and awaiting a proper answer. Were I not in such a state, I’d consider his loyalty to his mistress admirable. But, right now, it just sends me closer to the edge.
“I swear, Tim, if you don’t get out I’m going to throw you out!”
He glances at me, the barest wrinkle of worry flickering on his brows. Then it’s straight back at the rebel leader he looks.
She nods silently, and blinks slowly. He leaves the room.
The exchange helps to draw back my anger a little. I fill my lungs slowly, before emptying them at about the same rate. Then, speaking again, I do so with my calm returned.
“Please, Cornelia,” I say, using her first name. “Please tell me the truth.”
Now, she looks right at me again, and I hold back from searching her thoughts. I see no lie or deceit emerge as she beckons me back to my seat, and she moves back to retake hers.
I know that the need for secrecy is now gone.
199
“I’ve never told anyone what I’m about to tell you,” she begins, her voice croaking a little. “I am, as you know, a private person. But this wasn’t for me. I kept the truth from you and your brother for your own good. I did it for the good of this city.”
Her nerves appear to be a little frayed, such an unusual thing to see. A thing that proves how difficult she’s finding this, helping to calm my wrath further, endear myself a little to her own distress.
Taking a bottle of whiskey from a drawer in her desk, she quickly fills a glass, just as my guardian would do. She gulps down a little sip, before setting the glass to the table.
Then she speaks.
“As you know, I had a daughter with Artemis. As you know, she was taken from me, just like all Savant children are…”
I know this part of the story. She revealed it to me in private not so long ago, and again to the entire city only a couple of days past.
“I know,” I say, urging her forward. “We all know now.”
She smiles awkwardly and nods.
“I…conformed,” she continues. “At first, that’s all I could do. But the pain, it built. I don’t know how or why, but eventually I sought my daughter out. I…I found her,” she whispers, a little smile rising.
It falls away just as fast, and another drip of whiskey slides down her throat.
“I used some contacts I had, found her living in the High Tower. I didn’t quite know how to introduce myself. It was so difficult after so long, and I knew I was breaking protocol. But I didn’t care. Just seeing her, my beautiful Elisa, was enough.
“I followed her,” she goes on. “I used to follow her around, watch her from afar. Anything more, I knew, could get us both into trouble. One day, I followed her out of the High Tower. I saw her go to an apartment towards the outer spiral. She was meeting your father.”
“Maxwell,” I whisper.
She nods.
“I learned of their relationship,” she says. “It was enough to have them both executed. But there was more, something even worse. She was pregnant. Pregnant with you and Zander. I found out that they were planning to escape, to flee the city. I had no choice but to help them.”
Her story begins to draw tears to the corners of my eyes. A story of forbidden love and the inevitable tragedy that followed. I see her start to well up too as she recounts it all, her emotions running free much like with Adryan. Even without stepping into her mind, I see and fe
el the agony that the memory brings. An agony that’s reflected in me.
“I spent some time with Elisa and Maxwell,” she sniffs. “I cherished it. It was happiness that I never knew existed, a feeling that changed me forever. It’s why the Savants have always had their children taken, to prevent such a bond, such love, developing. To ensure they work and conform. I had the longing to meet my daughter, and when I did, it was more than I could have ever hoped for.”
The tears begin to drip down my cheeks now, silently crafting a path towards my mouth. I taste the salty brine, but don’t blink them away, don’t sniff or make a sound, don’t dare interrupt her now.
“But…” she croaks, “it was all doomed. I had to help them escape, I just had to. I managed to get Elisa away, hide her in Outer Haven before her pregnancy was discovered. Max would visit her when he was on duty, feed back to me about how she was doing. I couldn’t see her. I couldn’t go to Outer Haven, not being who I was. But he could, and for a little while she was safe. And then…she had you, and Zander, two beautiful, healthy babies.”
She looks at me like she never has before, and I think back to the times she’s been so relieved to see me safe. To only a couple of days ago when she sat right here, thanking Mrs Carmichael so earnestly for raising me.
That wasn’t only a proud rebel leader speaking about a soldier, but a grandmother, looking at her granddaughter.
Just as she is now.
“I thought – I hoped – that things might work out. I began to wish I could go and visit her, meet you and Zander, my grandchildren. I was…foolish. I made a terrible mistake. I tried to visit… and Artemis found out.”
Her shivering hand scoops up her whiskey glass. It tightens hard, her grief imbuing with anger, her memory of pain joined by a fierce and undeviating ire.
“I managed to get word to your father just in time,” she says, taking a gulp. “He was smart, Brie, so smart. He’d already figured out some contingency plans, made friends with Mrs Carmichael and Zander’s guardian, Linda. He took you to them, split you up. Only he and your mother knew where you were. He never told me for fear that someone would find out.”
I look to the file, still sat on the desk before her. The tears on my cheeks begin to slow, drying as they fall.
“But it’s listed in the file,” I say. “It says that my mother had children, that their whereabouts were unknown. They obviously knew about Zander and me. Why didn’t they look into my parents’ heads, find out where we’d been taken?”
A smile of pride and memory takes hold of Lady Orlando’s face.
“Your mother was a truly gifted Mind-Manipulator,” she says. “She hid the knowledge of where you’d been taken so deep it could never be found. It was only when I found Zander wandering the streets of the northern quarter that I knew who he was. But you…we didn’t know until so recently what had happened to you. Only Zander truly believed we’d find you. His connection to you is so strong.”
I smile at the thought of him, but then the smile fades away. He doesn’t know any of this. He doesn’t know the truth of what happened. I’ve been in the dark for weeks only. He’s been kept there for many years.
“So,” I say softly, “you were all taken to the REEF…”
She nods, a wave of pain once more washing over her face.
“We were taken together, to be killed as a family. Artemis himself gave the order. He signed off on his wife being executed, and his daughter too. And if his hunters had found you and Zander, you’d both have been put to death.”
I can barely process it; the cruelty, the ruthlessness. I cannot conceive of a man who could do such a thing.
“But you’re here…how did you escape?”
She wipes the wet from her eyes. I notice her fingers are trembling.
“Your mother,” she whispers, a pained smile hovering and fading away. “She had just enough strength in her to manipulate a guard. It gave me the chance to get away before we arrived. Her final act was to save my life. My darling girl…”
Her old, trembling fingers now cover her face and eyes, and her body begins to convulse and shiver as the tears start to flow. I find myself moving straight to my feet and rushing around to her, pulling her into my arms, holding her tight.
And the tears come for me too, stinging from my eyes, the terrible truth of my parents’ fate finally laid bare before me.
I always knew they were dead. I always knew what had happened, deep down. But to learn the full truth is harrowing. To learn that Cromwell, my grandfather, is the man who destroyed my family – his own family – has shocked me more than anything that’s gone before.
But in the awful darkness, there remains some light. Because in my arms, I grip my grandmother, the final piece of my remaining family right here with me.
Slowly, her sobs are replaced by a growing calm, the grief exorcised from inside her. It’s as if it’s been there, hidden in the depths, never being allowed to climb into the light. And now, she’s set it free, purging herself of all those suppressed memories.
She gazes at me and lifts a wrinkled hand up to my palm, her face stained with tears.
“You look so much like her,” she smiles. “I’m so happy you finally know.”
I hug her again, but more questions begin to drive me on, my mind ever seeking the full truth.
“Why?” I ask as she stares at me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell Zander?”
Her hand slips from my cheek, and she looks away.
“I thought…” She takes a breath, steadying herself. “I thought it was best not to confuse things. When I found Zander, I didn’t want him looking at me as a grandmother. I was a leader, and needed him to see me as that. And…Artemis too. It would only have confused him if he knew he was his grandfather. I didn’t want to complicate it all.”
There’s a brief silence as I consider her reasoning. She looks at me again, perhaps hoping I understand, hoping that the overemotional side of me doesn’t find some way to be hurt by all of this.
It doesn’t.
I understand perfectly why she’d keep the truth hidden. I understand that her position required it, and that the longer it went on, the harder it would have become to reveal the facts of Zander’s past.
And, when I came on the scene, the same is true. I was sent to the High Tower to assassinate Cromwell. Had I known he was my grandfather, would that have changed things? Would it have made it harder? Or would it have made it easier, knowing what he did to my parents, knowing that he killed his own family.
But she needs to hear me say it. Cornelia needs to know that I understand.
So I tell her, and see the relief in her eyes, and hear it coming from the long breath that escapes her lungs.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve made lots of mistakes over the years. I…I am to blame for Elisa and Max’s death. If I hadn’t tried to see her then none of…”
“Don’t,” I say firmly, cutting her off. “Don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. You’re not to blame for any of this. Not for their deaths, and not for keeping the truth from Zander and me. I don’t blame you. But…I’m happy I know. I’m happy to find you, grandma.”
Her eyes start welling up once more. Her lips shut tight, her face quivering.
“Grandma,” she repeats.
I smile, and hug her once again.
“Grandma,” I whisper.
200
I stay with her for a while longer as the early morning passes by.
She tells me more of my parents and what she knew of them. Of their good hearts and unbreakable adoration for each other. Of their profound love for my brother and me, and their willingness to give up their own lives in order to save ours.
She talks of those times, many years ago, with a twinkle in her eye. It speaks of her joy at the brief period she got to spend with her daughter, moments of happiness in a lifetime of servitude and solitude.
Her love for my mother is so apparent it hurts. And when she fo
und Zander over a decade later, the same feelings were drawn up in her, ones that she was forced to hold at bay.
It must have been so hard, each day wishing to reveal the truth but being unable to. For the good of Zander, and his part among the rebels, she needed to keep the truth hidden from him, and from me too when I came on board.
But, now that I know, everything has changed. Zander cannot be kept in the dark any longer.
“You need to tell him,” I say to her as the dawn approaches. “He deserves to know the truth now, the full truth.”
She doesn’t deny it. She nods silently.
“I will tell him,” she says. “I always planned to, one day. Once everything settled down. Once the war was over. I wanted him to stay focused, and not be distracted. I still wish that…”
I sit back in my chair.
“You mean to wait?” I question. “But he needs to know.”
“He will know,” she says. “He will know when the time is right. But that isn’t now.”
“I don’t understand why not. I know now, and I’m happy that I do. I’m sure Zander will be the same.”
“Perhaps,” she muses. “But I’ve raised Zander since he was only a boy. It will be harder for him to hear the truth. I urge you to keep it quiet, Brie, until the time is right.”
“And when will that be?”
She empties her lungs.
“When we’re at peace,” she says.
I think for a moment in silence, wishing not to be put into this position, to become complicit in this continued deceit. But what right do I have to tell him now, when it’s a weight she’s had to bear for so long?
I must defer to her. I must trust her. I must realise that she knows my brother better than I do, and knows that until this war is over, he needs to maintain a singular and unwavering focus.
She sees the cogs turning in my mind, the flicker of doubt and then agreement behind my eyes. Then, as I begin to nod, she says: “Thank you, Brie, for understanding. Your parents would have been so proud of the girl you’ve become. Brenda has truly done a remarkable job.”
“She’s the only mother I ever really knew,” I say, smiling at the thought of my guardian. “I guess, I always longed to know about my real mother, my birth mother. But, I couldn’t have hoped for a better replacement than Brenda.”