Dangerous Devotion

by Kristie Cook

  I whirled on Mom, and she held up her hand.

  “Martin will take them in private quarters and talk sense into them,” she said. “They’ve put their trust in him, honey. He’ll take care of this, and they’ll have to go along with him now.”

  “You have listened to his thoughts, no?” Rina asked. “You know what he will do.”

  “I’m blocked,” I said. “I can’t hear anyone and no one can hear me.”

  “Then the traitor is here, in the crowd,” Rina said.

  “Obviously. No doubt creating all this mayhem to distract everyone from what’s really going on. Probably influencing everyone in that room, especially with those bogus test results. And if destroying the Amadis is her goal, she’s doing a damn good job of it.”

  Mom sat in a wingback chair in the seating area. “As soon as Martin takes care of this, we can move on and address the issue of the real traitor. We just have to wait now.”

  I sank onto one end of the couch across from her. “For how long?”

  Mom shrugged. “For as long as it takes for him to feel he can overrule their vote without causing too many problems among them. He has to do it diplomatically, or we’ll have even more trouble on our hands.”

  “You’re sure he’s with us?” I asked. “I mean, they want me to marry Owen. He might want— Wait. Where is Owen? He’s not really in the hospital is he?”

  “I sent him on an errand,” Rina murmured.

  “Oh.” I snorted. “I thought maybe he ran away, before they forced him to marry me.” The idea sounded appealing, much better than annulling my marriage and being forced together with Owen. If only I could talk Tristan into it. He, Dorian, and I could get away from here for good, escape the crazies, as Charlotte had called them. Now I understood fully. But I didn’t understand why Rina would send Owen away now, during such an important trial. His future was at stake, too, after all.

  “Alexis,” Rina said, and I looked over my shoulder at her. She stood where she had earlier, leaning against the wall and watching out the window, still looking just as forlorn. “Have you been able to lower your shield yet?”

  “No. Why does it matter, though? I can’t communicate with one person, let alone more.”

  She turned her head toward me and pierced me with fierce eyes. “You are powerful enough to break the block. You can do this. You must do it.”

  Then she turned back to the window and fell silent again. The woman was as crazy as the rest of them, and I no longer knew what to think of her. One moment, she acted like my grandmother, caring and protective. And the next, she appeared to have given up and acceded to everyone against us.

  Someone knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer. Charlotte strode in, closed the door behind her, and handed a sheet of paper to Rina.

  “We’ll be reconvening soon,” Char said.

  “Already?” Mom asked.

  “We have to. We have to wrap this up, settle everything else, and get out of here. We’re needed in the field. The Daemoni have increased their attacks.”

  Rina gasped. I thought she reacted to Char’s statement, but when I looked at her, her face looked white as snow, and she held the paper out. “It cannot be true,” she whispered.

  Mom made a move, but I was closer. I snatched the paper out of Rina’s hands, and my eyes fell upon the test results. I’d never seen a normal DNA report, but this surely wasn’t anything like it. Not when phrases such as “dark magic levels,” “total magical quotient,” and “individualized abilities” plastered it. There were also what I assumed traditional phrases: “alleged father,” “child,” “alleged mother,” “genetic markers,” and “probability percentage.” I ignored the interpretation and studied the details for myself—numbers on a page. The child’s numbers were nowhere near the alleged mother’s. Lilith and I were remotely related, if at all.

  But . . . the breath caught in my lungs, and my heart stilled. The paper rattled in my trembling hands.

  “Is this . . . is this right?” I choked, hoping against everything that it wasn’t. Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the results.

  “I’m sorry, Alexis,” Char said.

  I shook my head violently. “No. It’s not possible. They’re only numbers. Just numbers. Anyone could fill those in however they want to!”

  “I checked with my friend, the wizard-doctor who ran the tests. He said there’s no doubt. The girl’s genetic markers are very similar to Tristan’s.”

  I blinked away the tears and glared at her. “Then your friend must be working for them. For the traitor. He’s part of the set-up.”

  Of course that was it. He had to be part of it all. Because otherwise . . .

  “I’m sorry,” Char said again, pity written all over her face.

  “I don’t want your apologies!” I nearly yelled. “I don’t want your pity. I want the truth!”

  Charlotte held out a white envelope I hadn’t noticed in her hand before. “Tristan suspected the same thing, so he had Owen take samples to his own guy in London. This just came in, after Martin called for the recess. Tristan said to deliver it straight to you, and you would know what to do with the truth. No one else has seen what it says.”

  I stared at the envelope held between us. Such an innocuous object, paper with markings on it. An object that could be destroyed so easily—torn to bits, held to a flame, disintegrated with water and flushed down a drain—yet could hold enough power to decimate a kingdom, start or end a war, free the imprisoned innocent, lift the souls of the downtrodden . . . and break the hearts of lovers. For the paper and the ink didn’t hold the real power. They were simply tools used by people. No, the power lay in the message contained within.

  I suddenly didn’t want to see the message on this particular piece of paper. I forced myself to lift my hand, to close my fingers on the envelope’s edges, to take it from Charlotte and tear it open. I commanded my eyes to look at the paper, my brain to interpret the message.

  Unlike the wizard’s results page, this one only showed a DNA chart. It was purely scientific—the test performed and the results recorded by a doctor on stationery from a medical research lab in London. Like the false-ID creators, the doctor must have been one of “Tristan’s guys” located around the world whom he could rely on for help. One of the many Normans who knew Tristan as someone who occasionally needed to circumvent authorities or cut through red tape and had the money to pay for it. They would be unaware of the Amadis and our politics just as the Amadis were likely unaware of them. Knowing Tristan, who put the Amadis above all, including himself, he would only hire someone who’d provide accurate results, even if they incriminated him. Tristan trusted this doctor to deliver only the truth.

  And the results were the same.

  “It . . . it wasn’t a set-up,” I said, the whisper sounding distant to my own ears.

  The paper fluttered toward the floor as my body went numb. My hands fell limp in my lap, and I simply stared at them. My mind tried to grasp the true meaning of this, but some part of me kept it from doing so, still trying to deny it. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out this place, wanting to leave and go to another world where Tristan and I lived happily ever after. But Lilith’s face—the sweet one, before she went all monster on us—showed on the back of my eyelids. So much like Dorian’s face . . . which was just like his father’s.

  And then the thoughts I wanted to avoid bombarded me. Questions. So many questions. How could this happen? When did it happen? I’d become pregnant with Dorian on our honeymoon right before Tristan disappeared. There was no doubt, because I’d been a virgin before our wedding. Had the wait been too long for him? Had he been with someone else, unable to hold out for me? Or did it happen after he left? He’d said he’d been completely faithful during his absence, but . . . what was I to believe now?

  Then the worst images of all battered my mind and assaulted my soul. Tristan actually with another woman. Someone else embraced in his powerful arms. Limbs entangled, eyes lo
cked on each other’s with that shared look of love and lust. Strange fingers touching his naked flesh, lips kissing his full ones, hands that weren’t mine on his face, on his biceps and chest, stroking him . . . another woman’s body making him respond in a way I thought only I could do. And him caressing her, kissing her, holding her . . . making love to her. Doing everything he did to me to her.

  Giving her a baby. A piece of him to hold onto when he wasn’t with her.

  I pulled my knees to my chest and bent my head to curl into a ball, trying to protect my heart and soul from the pain. But no one attacked me from the outside. The agony already burgeoned within, tightening its hold, knifing its way across my heart.

  “How could he do this to me?” I whispered against my thighs. Nobody answered. “To all of us?”

  He hadn’t betrayed only me. I envisioned him in the meeting hall, denying it. Denying everything. If he could do this . . . get away with it all these years . . . what else had he done? What else had he lied about? Was anything he said true? The horrible idea that Julia and the others were right about him crept into my mind like a dark mist seeping in and blacking out everything I’d ever believed. He’d summarized it all himself, and now I could almost believe it, either way the story went. Not everything—some of it was outright ludicrous—but the general idea that he made all this happen to bring down the Amadis . . . No! Not my Tristan. Impossible!

  Right?

  More and more, the council’s accusations began to make sense. Rina and Mom had believed in Tristan all along, before I was even born, based on feelings and messages from the Angels. The traitor had thought them foolish leaders, relying so much on their senses and directives that truly didn’t exist. With his ability to identify possible options and solutions, could Tristan figure that out, realize there’d never been a message about our daughter? Had he told the traitor about Rina’s lie? Oh, my God. Every time I’d heard the traitor’s voice, Tristan had been there! Had his mistress been around, too? Was that her voice I’d heard? Did she stop us from making love that one night in the woods? Is that how Tristan dealt with my inability to have sex—by going to her?

  Their faces overcome with bliss. Cries of pleasure escaping their lips.

  The image made my stomach heave. I had nothing to vomit, though. Acid burned the back of my throat.

  I clutched at my hair with my hands, my fingernails digging into my scalp. No. It can’t be. I can’t believe this!

  Charlotte cleared her throat, a reminder she still stood before me.

  “He wants to see you,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft and quiet. “Martin says he can come in.”

  I tried to imagine what I would do when I saw him face-to-face. When I looked into his eyes. What I would say. But the image eluded me. As if Foggy Alexis tried to ooze her way in to protect me.

  “I don’t think I can,” I said, my forehead still pressed against my knees.

  Charlotte sighed. “I want to say I know what Martin will do, but I can’t guarantee it. He’s having a hard time with the others.” A beat passed before she added, very quietly, “Alexis, this might be your last chance to see Tristan alone. Ever.”

  And that finally got to me. The fog disappeared as the idea of never seeing Tristan—the only man I’d ever loved—squeezed my heart with panic. I couldn’t let it end like this.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. I remained in my protective ball as hands touched my shoulder and hair, followed by the noises of people coming and going. Then the room fell silent, and a heavy weight sat on my couch, at the other end.

  “Ma lykita.” The loveliest voice in the world carved a gash into my soul.

  Chapter 23

  Tears stung my eyes just to hear Tristan’s voice. I didn’t move, didn’t respond, afraid of him. Of myself. His weight shifted, and I knew he reached out to touch me. I pulled my ball tighter. He let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t believe me.”

  “Believe what?” I asked. “You haven’t even tried to defend yourself. Not to me.”

  “What? Do you think it was Rina who I tried so hard to convince that it’s not true? That it’s absolutely impossible? I was telling you, Lexi. You’re the only one who matters.”

  I finally lifted my head and rested my chin on my knees, staring straight forward at the wall. Not allowing myself to look his way. “If you mean with your thoughts, I can’t hear anyone. I’m blocked. But I’ve seen the results myself. There really is no doubt.” My voice cracked on the last word as my eyes flicked to the paper from Tristan’s guy on the floor.

  He leaned over to retrieve it, and several moments of silence passed as he studied the results. He let it fall to the floor again as he leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, still not saying a word. Then he moved closer to me. His large hand landed softly on my head, smoothed down my hair, and rested on my back. I began to shake uncontrollably. He wrapped his other arm around me and pulled me to his chest. I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. Just one last time. Feel him one more time. The dam finally broke, and I could no longer stop the sobs.

  “Lexi,” he murmured as he tightened his arms around me. “My Lexi. Please listen to me. Everything has changed now, I understand, but not my love for you. Whatever happens, I need you to know I’ve always been faithful to you. Only you, Lex. It’s always been only you, my love.”

  “Then—” My breath hitched with the sobs. “Then how can it be?”

  “I honestly have no idea. The traitor must be blocking me, too, because I see no options, no possible answers except the obvious. But it’s not true. I promise you that. Please, Lexi, believe me.”

  Each pleading word, pointed with his despair, pierced my heart. I finally forced myself to look up at his beautiful face, and as soon as I did, as soon as I looked into those hazel eyes begging for my trust, I wanted to have faith in him. But . . .

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I said.

  The pain in his eyes nearly killed me. He took my face in his hands, and I didn’t pull away, unable to hurt him anymore. He leaned his forehead against mine.

  “I understand. You need to shield your heart.” His thumb stroked my face, and I wanted so badly to lean into his palm. “But open your mind, Lex, and use it. Find out the truth. Promise me you’ll try. I understand that you can’t love me, but I can’t bear the thought of leaving you like this, believing their lies.”

  So I should believe yours? I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Especially because I wanted to believe him. I’d made the decision years ago to take his word over everyone else’s, but that was when his word meant something. When I thought he and I were on the same side, together, as one.

  The door opened, and Charlotte stepped inside. “It’s time.”

  “No,” we said at once, desperation filling both of our voices. Desperation to believe. To be believed.

  “I’m sorry, but they’re ready.”

  The two warlock-guards pushed past Charlotte, and each grabbed one of Tristan’s arms. Before he stood on his own, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across my forehead, leaving a trail of electricity under my skin.

  “Use your head. If not for me, Lex, do it for our son. For the Amadis. You have the advantage, ma lykita. Use it.” He didn’t fight the guards as they pushed him toward the door and out of the room.

  Away from me.

  Perhaps forever.

  I didn’t remember moving, but I suddenly found myself standing. Standing in an empty, gloomy room alone. All alone. A feeling I’d lived with for over seven years. Something I thought I’d never have to do again, yet here I was. But I wanted to be alone. Needed it. Distant noises thrummed from the hall and the meeting room, setting my teeth on edge. I couldn’t deal with being in that noisy crowd again. I couldn’t stand seeing the smug faces of the council.

  I’d trusted them easier than I’d ever trusted anyone. I’d been convinced years ago, when I first learned of the Amadis, they were the good guys. The Daemoni were evil. T
he Amadis were good. If you were Amadis, I could trust you. Black and white. I’d never been so wrong. Like anything in life, this covert world was colored with grays. Nothing—nobody—could be trusted for how they appeared on the surface. How could I ever be loyal to those I couldn’t trust? I wanted nothing to do with them, with my position, with the Amadis at all. I was done with my dangerous devotion to greedy politicians. I wanted out.

  “Alexis, they’re about to start,” Mom said from the doorway.

  “I’m not going back in there. I’ve heard enough.”

  “You don’t want to hear Martin’s final decision?”

  I shook my head. “What does it matter? What do I care what happens?”

  Mom moved into the room, and I took a step backward. She sighed. “You don’t believe that. You know it matters to you. Whatever has happened in the past, you love him. You care what happens to him.”

  I shook my head again, but my eyes stung. She pursed her lips together and stared at me for a long moment. Then she left. And my eyes burned hotter. I do care. I do love him. No matter what. Besides, he was the father of my son. Even if I no longer cared about the Amadis or their future, I did need to hear Martin’s decision about Tristan.

  I hurried down the corridor to the grand room, which sounded as though an angry mob filled it. Rina and Mom were just entering, and I slid into step behind Mom. People shouted accusations and questions, not noticing as the three of us came inside and took our seats.

  “The Ames women must lead us!”

  “We’re nothing without them! We’ll collapse!”

  “Ms. Katerina, why did you step down? How could you abandon us?”

  “How can you rule, Martin? You aren’t of Amadis blood! You’re not ordained to rule!”

  “We are here for the trial of Tristan Knight, not Katerina Ames or this council,” Solomon said over the crowd, somewhat quieting them. “We will finish this trial, then we will discuss the future of the Amadis.”