Mark of Betrayal

by A. M. Hudson

  “Sleepwalking.” David smiled.

  I laughed a little. “Oh. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “Yeah, well, because of your little brush with death, the whole kingdom knows David’s alive,” Mike said from across the room.

  “What?”

  David looked at me, shaking his head. “I brought you back to the manor and came straight through the Great Hall.”

  “Yeah—” Jason reached over me and punched David softly. “You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked up to see what all the yelling was about.”

  David rubbed his brow. “I just wasn't thinking.”

  “It’s in the past, son.” Arthur touched his shoulder then looked at me. “Everything has been smoothed over.”

  “What did you tell the people—about where you’ve been?”

  “The truth. We told them we were trying to conceive a child that could kill Drake—that we’d gone to great lengths to keep my existence a secret.”

  “Were they okay with that?”

  David's face warmed with his smile. “They're rejoicing.”

  “So, are you home now, David?” I asked. “Since everyone knows about you?”

  “For a few days, yes. We just got word that Drake received our letter, offering war, and fled the country.”

  “What! Why?”

  “We don't know. All we know is that he packed up his entire army and just left.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “Paris.”

  I frowned. “Do you think he's scared?”

  Everyone laughed.

  “No,” Mike said. “He’s up to something.”

  “But, at least, for now, he's not at Elysium,” David said. “I plan to go there in a few weeks and free the prisoners.”

  “Free Pepper?”

  He cleared his throat and nodded.

  “Can I come?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don't need to be there.”

  I folded my arms and huffed.

  “Oh, how I've missed this.” David motioned to my tantrum-posture, smiling back at Arthur.

  “Yes, she can be quite endearing at times, can't she?” he said rhetorically and wandered over to sit on a chair by the balcony door.

  “So, do we crown you king, now?” I asked David.

  He nodded. “As soon as you're well.”

  I smiled. “When you get back from Elysium then.”

  “No, we’ll do it before I go.”

  Jason’s head slowly turned to look at Arthur then, his eyes changing. Whatever thought Arthur just had, Jason was clueless to it before. He sat back, his head dropping, and stared at the floor.

  “King David?” Morgaine popped her head in the door.

  “Morgaine,” David said in a very authoritative, kingly voice.

  “Walter asked that I—” She stopped dead and stared at me. “She’s awake.”

  “Yes.” David smiled at my hand. “What did Walt want?”

  “Um,” she stammered, pushing past Jason, and sat on the bed, taking my hand.

  “Morg?” David insisted.

  “He, uh…oh, Amara!” Her arms stretched out and she wrapped them around my neck; I grimaced at David from behind her hair, brushing it away from my mouth. “I’ve been so worried about you, Your Majesty.”

  “I'm okay.” I patted her shoulder.

  She sat back, wiping her cheeks. “You were just so broken. I didn’t really know what to do. I was so scared you weren’t going to—”

  “Morg?” David said. “Message from Walt.”

  “Oh, um.” She stood up again, her eyes averted, back straight. “Sorry, Your Majesty. Walt asked if I could let you know that he’s calling the House meeting early today because he’s leaving for the weekend.”

  “Right.” David nodded. “What time is the meeting?”

  “Um.” She shuffled her feet and looked at me. “I'm sorry, we didn't know our queen was awake.”

  “Morg. What time?”

  “It’s now.”

  David stood and kissed my hand. “I’ll be back.”

  I nodded.

  “One of you stay with her while I'm gone, please?” He looked at Jason and his uncle.

  “I will.” Arthur sat beside me, taking my hand up gently in his.

  “Thank you, Uncle.” David gave a slight nod and turned on his heel, closing the bedroom door behind himself, Mike and Morgaine.

  “Did he just bow to you?” I looked at Arthur.

  “Yes.” Arthur chuckled. “Force of habit.”

  “Wow. I don't think I've ever seen David bow.”

  Jason laughed. “He probably always will.”

  “So, what was up with Morgaine?” I tried not to laugh. “She looked like she was afraid of getting a lashing from David or something.”

  “He commands a certain amount of respect,” Arthur said. “As king, that has merely magnified.”

  “So, he’s slipping into his new role well then?”

  “Perfectly.” Arthur nodded once.

  “It’s so good to have him back.” I smiled over at my door, catching a strange shift in Jason’s smile as I looked back. “Jase?”

  “Mm?” He looked up from the ground.

  “You okay?”

  He studied his hand, running the tip of his thumb over his finger, then stood up. “Yeah. I'm just hungry. I’ll be back in a while.”

  “Oh, okay.” I angled my cheek to his lips as he dropped a gentle kiss there.

  “Take care, okay, Ara.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  He nodded and backed away, disappearing out my bedroom door.

  “The incredible shrinking bedside vigil,” I said, smiling at Arthur.

  “It’s been that way for days. Poor David has not had a moment alone with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” He patted my hand. “Your people love you. We’ve been very frightened for you these past days.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed, looking at my quilt. “Do you truly have no recollection of the events of that night?”

  I shook my head.

  “Do you remember the training hall?”

  I looked into my thoughts again and tensed all over. “Did we…?”

  “No.”

  “What happened, then? I remember you leaving the room but…how did I get to the lighthouse?”

  He ran a firm hand down his mouth, looking back at me with tears in his eyes. “Amara, tell me honestly, my dear…”

  “Arthur?” I touched my hand to his knee. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  His hand shook. “Did you jump, because of what I tried to make you do?”

  “Oh, God, Arthur, I really don't think so. Surely I’d remember something like that.”

  “Yes, but I'm not so sure you would tell me if that were the case.”

  My eyes travelled slowly away from his face to the sitting room across from my bed. I squinted against the pain in my head, searching for something—any little thought that might give me a clue about what happened that night. But it was almost as if the event were a painting I’d heard about but never seen, because I couldn't even muster the slightest image in my mind. “I'm very anti-suicide, Arthur. There’s no way I would’ve jumped. I'm just not that selfish. Think about what it’d do to David—to my people, to my Mum and Dad if they lost me,” I said, taking his hand. “There’s no way I jumped.”

  He nodded, his fingers gradually becoming tighter on mine. “I would not forgive myself if you had, Amara.”

  “I don't think I did.” I looked out to my balcony where a man was standing guard, and knew only too well that one of my knights would be right outside my door, too. I wondered if that meant I’d lost the argument about having no guards. “Didn't any of the Guard see me that night—at least walking toward the lighthouse?”

  “Perhaps. However, all we’ve concluded so far is that you came back to your room b
efore you went down there.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You were wearing a nightdress when David found you—not that there was much left of it.”

  That painted a grisly picture in my head. “Didn't anyone report having seen me?”

  “No. Not since dinner that night. And the men in the Guard who line the halls are not permitted to divulge, even if they had seen you.”

  “Why?”

  “They swear a vow of secrecy, which protects you from infiltrators. Often, a simple thing like the whereabouts of the queen or the company she keeps can be enough to tear a monarchy down or see a traitor get the upper hand.” He eyed me for a few seconds. “I do find it awfully suspicious that you have no memory of anything after I left you that night, though.”

  I rubbed my head. “Arthur. I fell down, like, four hundred feet, onto jagged rocks. I bet my brain was the first thing to die.”

  “Yes.” His gaze became shadowed then, his thumb brushing my right brow. “Your skull was caved in on one side.”

  I touched my head, my eyes wide. “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “David said you were down there for quite some time; he was, unfortunately, sitting on the lighthouse when he saw something strange against the rocks, but saw no need to investigate until a blue flash sparked from it.”

  “Well, what was he doing up on the lighthouse?”

  “Waiting for the manor to stir. He was here to see you—planned to tell you the truth about everything—ask for your help.”

  “With what?”

  “Getting the dagger.”

  I grinned. “I’d never do that.”

  “For him, I believe you would.” He nodded once.

  “Not to send him to his death.”

  “Hm.” He nodded again. “Anyhow, it matters none, my dear. The issue has been resolved.”

  “How?”

  “I offered him the dagger.”

  “What?” I sat up.

  Arthur pushed me back down. “On the condition he stays until you’ve conceived a child—an heir.”

  “But, I don't want that. I don't want him to die…”

  Arthur smiled, his eyes betraying a deeper plan. “Ever heard of a turkey baster?”

  “A what?”

  “We can create a child in the artificial method.” He cleared his throat. “As if I were merely a donor.”

  “Whoa. You wanna put your….”

  “Seed.”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “…Into a turkey baster, and….”

  “Precisely.” He held back laughter. “You can be alone when you do this, and there is no need for me to hurt you by touching you that way. Then, as per our previous plan, I will become king by rights, and I will take to kill Drake.”

  “And David doesn’t know this bit?”

  “No. But when he learns the child is not his, we may have a hard time convincing him I’d not touched you.”

  I nodded. “And then what? Will he hate me?”

  “For a while, I'm certain of it.”

  I covered my mouth.

  “He feels strongly about infidelity, my dear—so strongly, in fact, that after Arietta was murdered, I suspected David had killed her. He never approved of Arietta betraying Victor.”

  “He didn’t kill her though, right?” I held my breath.

  “I hope not.” Arthur patted my hand. “Just be prepared when he learns the child is not his. He will be bitter for a while, but he will come to see that you were not unfaithful, and hope for your future will not be lost entirely.”

  “When should we, um—?”

  “Not today.” He grinned. “You need to rest.”

  “So, do we need to stop the coronation?”

  “No. Go ahead with it. If I father the child, I will reign higher than David anyway.”

  “Hey,” Jase said, rapping on my door as he opened it.

  “Hey. Did you eat?”

  He nodded and walked in humbly. “Yeah. All good now.”

  Both Arthur and Jason remained quiet for a second, looking at each other, until Jason nodded and Arthur stood. “Well, my dear, I shall leave you in Jason’s capable hands. I have a few things to take care of.”

  “Okay, thanks, Arthur.”

  He leaned down and kissed my brow. “Be safe.”

  I smiled at him as he walked away; he stopped by Jason, cupped his shoulder firmly and gave him a reassuring smile.

  “Of course, Uncle,” Jase said, nodding, and Arthur left.

  “And then there was one,” I said.

  He appeared on the chair where David was when I woke up. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “I nearly killed him, you know.” He stared at the ground between his legs. “I thought he’d—” He paused. “I thought he did that to you.”

  “David?” I exclaimed. “He’d never hurt me.”

  Jason shook his head, his gaze distant.

  “I'm really sorry.” I reached for his hand. “I can’t say it won’t happen again, because I don't know how it happened.”

  “No, it’s safe to say it won’t happen again.” He squeezed my hand. “That I can promise.”

  “Oh yeah,” I challenged, with a grin. “And what are you going to do, sleep on the end of my bed?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “I don't think David would approve of that.”

  “He can bite me.”

  I laughed aloud, throwing my head back. “He just might do that.”

  “No, he’d get more joy out of torturing me by touching you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, he’s only too aware that every time he kisses you, strokes your hair, sends me away, tells me I need to leave you to rest, it kills me—it kills me that he gets to make that decision.”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “That doesn't mean I don't love you.”

  “Brother.” David stood in the doorway, his eyes dark, his shoulders so straight I almost didn't recognise him as my husband.

  Jason stood up. “David. Impeccable timing.”

  “Yes, perfect, I’d say.” He walked slowly into the room. “I don't know what you think is acceptable, brother, but confessing any feelings toward my wife is crossing the line.”

  “Of course.” Jason bowed his head, turned back and smiled softly at me, then left, offering David a scowl as he passed.

  “David?” I said, slapping the covers.

  He dropped his shoulders, a smile breaking out across his stone mask. “Did you see the look on his face?”

  “Yes. That was mean.”

  He sprung up on the bed, letting his human weight jiggle it a bit, and wrapped both arms around me, sweeping me into his chest. “I know. But it was funny.”

  “I don't think he found it funny.”

  “I didn't find it very funny that he was sitting by your bed, confessing his love for you.”

  “Oh, come on, David. You know how he feels.”

  “Yes,” he said into my brow, kissing me after. “And I know you are too careful of people’s emotions to tell him that’s inappropriate.”

  “I do tell him that.”

  He kissed my head again. “I'm sure you do.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I sat up a little, wincing at the dull ache in my hip.

  “I mean—” He rolled me onto my back and lifted my top, his face hovering just above my waist. “I don't believe his affections are one-sided.”

  My heart stopped. “Why would you think that?”

  He smiled down at my skin, tracing a line over it. “Perhaps I know you better than you think.”

  “Ouch.” I rolled up a little and looked down. “Why did you pinch me?”

  “Did you ever suffer from eczema as a child?”

  I frowned, thinking. “Yes. When Mum used certain laundry detergents.”

  He nodded. “I might go speak to housekeeping.”

  “Why?”

/>   “You have a mild rash coming up.” He lifted my top a little more, showing the red, raised rash on my hip, just below my underwear.

  I placed my fingertips to it; it was hot. “Do immortals get eczema?”

  He laughed, pulling my top back down. “Guess they do.”

  “It’s itchy.”

  “It’s only itchy because you know it’s there. It wasn't bothering you a second ago.”

  “It hurt a second ago.”

  “No.” He sat back on the pillows, his arms behind his head. “That was your bone. Your hip was completely shattered, Ara. You’re still healing.”

  “Ouch.” I rubbed my hip. “So, who fixed me up?”

  “Arthur, Morgaine and I.”

  “What did you do—just pour blood down my throat?”

  “We actually administered it intravenously. We had to stitch you up, too. You just kept bleeding everywhere once we got your heart started again.”

  “It stopped?”

  His chest sunk, his belly no longer moving with his gentle breath. “You were dead, my love. Completely dead. Your soul left your body.”

  “Really?” I sat up, crossing my legs under me.

  He nodded. “And we learned something new about your kind from that.”

  “What?”

  “That you can not only die from having your head chopped off and kept off, nor just from having your heart removed, but if your soul leaves your body—even if it’s perfectly intact, you will slowly decompose and become, essentially, dead.”

  “Like, until my soul goes back in my body or something?”

  “Right. See, if your body is taken apart, your soul cannot re-enter, but, you, my love, have this magic talent where you can choose to leave your body—almost like your soul isn't tethered to this form. But if you stay out too long, you die.”

  “And, if I did die from staying out too long, can I ever go back in my body?”

  He swallowed. “I'm not sure.”

  “Well, how long does it take me to die?”

  “Arthur thinks it’s about twenty-four hours or so.”

  “So, how do you know my soul left my body?”

  “Because we saw it.”

  “Huh?”

  “You stood right there like some freaky ghost, haunting us.”

  I looked at where he pointed to the foot of my bed. “I did?”

  “Uh-hu.” He tucked his hand back behind his head. “I actually think you can do it on command. In fact, I think you’ve done it before.”

  “What makes you think that?”