Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4)

by Barbara Kloss

  "Change?" He looked confused. "I intended it as a compliment. I don't want you to change—"

  "No…" I laughed. "I meant for dinner."

  "Ah, yes, of course." He smiled, showing his teeth. "No, what you're wearing is perfect. I thought we might go for a ride."

  "A ride? In this weather?"

  "It's only drizzling now. You're not afraid of a little rain, are you?" He leveled a challenging look on me.

  "No…"

  "Good, because if I'm to right my wrongs, as promised, I can't have any eavesdroppers."

  "You mean you don't want anyone else thinking you're really a decent man in disguise?"

  His smile transformed him into something…elegantly human. "It won't be a long ride," he said, "just over a rise and to a covered rotunda where we can eat and talk in private."

  "And you're not at all worried about flooding?"

  "No, we get downpours like this often, and there are plenty of small bridges between here and there that were built for that very purpose. Our road will be clear. Trust me, I've done this often."

  I let out something of a snort. "Have you, now."

  "I…ah…" He scratched the back of his neck and his cheeks splotched pink, realizing what he'd just admitted.

  I slid off my bed. "Never mind. I don’t want to know. And besides…I'm starved."

  Galloping through the "drizzle" was muddy and wet. A few rivers raged along the way, but just like Danton had said, there were bridges in place to cross over them. We detoured when necessary, and within about fifteen minutes, we reached the aforementioned rotunda, hidden amidst a small forest of trees seated on top of a hill. We were wet to the bone and our boots and horses were caked in mud. Danton dismounted and headed for me, but realized I'd already dismounted too, so he went back to his horse and unstrapped the leather satchel he'd brought. We led our horses beneath the covered porch and out of the rain, and then I followed Danton inside.

  The rotunda was circular, crowned with a white, marble dome, but it was intimate and small and, more importantly, private. Heavy crimson draperies hung from the ceiling, pulled back to show off the gorgeous leaded-glass cathedral windows. In the center of the white marble flooring, an octagon had been cut right out of the tiles for burning a fire, and all around the fancy fire pit were plush crimson benches and crimson cushions embroidered in black. It was a neat little building, if not a little romantic, and I felt bad leaving my muddy footprints on the pristine white marble floor.

  Energy pulsed from Danton, and a small fire burst to life in the fire pit, giving the interior a soft, warm glow. He peeled off his cloak, laid it over a bench and then shook out his now-brown hair. I followed suit, and then sat across from him on a large cushion beside the fire, and I crossed my legs beneath me. He was already pulling items out of his pack and setting them between us—starting with a bottle of wine.

  "I see you're also a diplomatic drinker," I said.

  He grinned. "I don't consider this diplomacy, which is why I brought something sweeter for you."

  I raised a brow.

  "This wine is made from conscia fruit, which happens to be a favorite of my father's, though hard to come by since conscia trees rarely produce fruit anymore. The occasion warranted something special, and I think you may actually like the flavor of this."

  I had a sudden memory of Tran when I'd first met him, telling me something about conscia trees and the Pontefracts.

  Danton pulled out a lump of cheese. "I apologize for the informal dinner. I'm not much of a cook, but if we'd dined in the hall, we would've had an audience and then we would've been forced to censor ourselves."

  "No apology needed," I said. "This is perfect—really. I love riding, and I'd take a ride in the rain any day over those silly court dinners."

  He paused to grin up at me and then went back to pulling things from his pack. More cheese, some grapes, some freshly baked bread that was still steaming. "Good. Though you know you'll have your fill of those silly court dinners living here."

  "Unavoidable. I know."

  He poured two glasses of wine and handed one to me. "Did you attend many of them at Castle Regius?"

  I took my glass from him. "Initially, yes. But when my grandfather decided he didn't like anything I had to say, he started asking I not attend."

  Danton laughed as he sipped his wine. "I don’t believe that tactic will work so well with my father."

  "Yes, I think I'm going to have to reevaluate my tactics altogether," I said, taking a slow sip. The wine wasn't so bad. It was a little on the fruity side and bubbled on my tongue like a spritzer.

  Danton looked to me for my reaction, and I gave him an affirmative nod. He smiled, pleased but unsurprised. "Speaking of court dinners," he continued, "there's no getting out of tomorrow night."

  "Tomorrow night…?" I had no idea what he was referring to, and then I remembered. The engagement party. "Right. That." And then I thought how strange it was that Danton hadn't actually asked me to marry him. Was he planning to? I wasn't sure how these things worked. But shouldn't I at least have a ring, or something? Not that I was going to ask him for one, and then I suddenly remembered I was still wearing Alex's necklace. Danton couldn't see it, of course, because it lay hidden beneath my shirt, but wearing it while talking to Danton about…this made me feel like a terrible person. Maybe I was a terrible person.

  "Don't sound so thrilled about the prospect," Danton teased, then picked up a piece of bread and chewed on it.

  "It's not that," I lied. "It's just…I don't like public gatherings. Particularly when I'm the subject." Which was true.

  He chuckled, swallowing his bread. "I'm not sure I can help you there. You're going to be a subject for the rest of your life, you know."

  "Yes…" I set my glass down. "Is there anything I need to do to prepare for tomorrow night? One day isn't much time."

  He shook his head and took another sip. "My father won't need much time. We have an entire staff working to get things in proper order, and Anna will help you with your dress and other things you ladies do. About an hour before, my mother will fetch you for the rehearsal, but other than that, all you'll need to do is smile and try to be as congenial as possible."

  "You sound scared," I said.

  He grinned. "Perhaps I am a little."

  I grinned back, and then said, "Your father mentioned someone. A Sir…?"

  "Sir Dunmore," he answered. "He's our general, who is preparing Orindor's men as we speak."

  That was good news. Lord Pontefract was following through with his end of the bargain. "And do you think it'll take a whole week for them to get to Castle Regius?"

  Danton rubbed his chin. "Yes, I do, but Sir Dunmore is a talented general. My father wouldn't have chosen him for the position, otherwise. The men listen to him, and if he can get them there sooner, he will."

  That would have to be enough. I didn't like it, but as Lord Pontefract had reminded me, if I'd wanted Orindor's help sooner, I should've come when the proposal was first made. Actually, I should've reciprocated interest when they'd first shown it six months ago. One didn't mess with Lord Pontefract's ego.

  "We're doing everything we can, Daria." Danton's eyes melted into that liquid blue.

  "I know you are. Thank you." I just wished I could do more. I wished I could do now. I thumbed the glass in my hands. "What's your mother like?"

  Danton grabbed another piece of bread and put a slice of cheese on top of it. He chose his words carefully. "Elegant and extremely reserved. She's not unfriendly…she just chooses to keep to herself. I imagine she has to, married to someone like my father." He took a bite and chewed slowly. "But she's always been a loving mother to my brother and me."

  "I didn't know you had a brother," I said, surprised. There'd been no word of a brother during the festival games.

  Danton nodded, swallowing. "Carter. He lives with cousins of ours in a town called Hivarre, about a three-hour's ride from here. He's a bit…unruly, and father didn't
have much patience for him, so mother sent him to live with her family. My mother's thought was that Carter might have a better chance at finding his own identity away from father and me."

  This made me unexpectedly sad. "How old is Carter?"

  "He turned fifteen just last month."

  Danton was the oldest. No surprise there. "Do you two get along?"

  "Not very," Danton admitted. "We don't have much in common. He has no interest in politics or swordplay; he'd rather be building something with his hands or digging in the fields. Servants' work, as Father calls it, and Father is always on to him for not being more like me."

  I felt for Carter. Having a father like Lord Pontefract was bad enough without him despising you for not having the "correct" blend of interests. "Does your father always treat you that way?" I asked quietly.

  Danton took a slow breath, and then his glass tinked as he set it down on the tile beside him. "Father is…a very complex man."

  "All people are complex, Danton. That doesn't give them any right to treat others the way he treated you this morning."

  Danton thumbed the rim of his glass. "He's not always so harsh. He's been under a lot of pressure lately, and his temper flares more and more."

  I set my glass down. Here was my open door. I just hoped Danton would be on the other side waiting, as he'd promised. "You mentioned that earlier…this pressure. What kind of pressure?"

  Danton hesitated and glanced to one of the windows as if reassuring himself no one stood there. "From his brother, mostly—my uncle, Lord Tiernan. He wants my father to swear his allegiance to Lord Eris."

  Good. Maybe Danton would speak openly with me. "But your father hasn't sworn Orindor yet…?"

  "Not that I'm aware of, no, and what you said to him earlier…it rattled him. He is afraid, Daria, though he denies it. He fears your uncle—yes—but I think he's more afraid for his brother. I believe he still holds out hope that my uncle Tiernan will come back to him. I'm not sure how much you know, but they all have history together, including your father. They grew up together, so despite what Lord Eris is after, there are old allegiances and nuances even I don't understand."

  "Those allegiances weren't enough to keep Eris from killing my father," I said.

  "I know." Danton hesitated, turning a piece of cheese over in his hand. "But I believe my father is biding his time because he wants to bring his brother back."

  "He'll be biding his time until there's no world to bring Tiernan back to. We're already at war, and I met your uncle. Tiernan is Eris's man through and through. There's no bringing him back."

  Danton was quiet a long moment. "I know that."

  "Is that why your father hasn't handed over the unity stone, then? Because he has to know by now his hope for Tiernan is futile, but maybe…maybe he also realizes how dangerous and unstable Eris is—even without the power of the unity stone?"

  Danton's eyes lifted to mine. "For not living here very long, you certainly infer a lot."

  "I was thrown into this game, and I'm just trying to understand it so I can survive…like I think you are. But what I can't understand is you, Danton." I leaned toward him, staring him straight in the eyes. "You were so nice when I first met you. You were open and honest, and I truly believed you understood what I was going through and what I was up against."

  "That wasn't a lie, Daria—"

  I cut him off. "You left me to die during the games." He'd left me to die twice, actually. First, when I followed Cicero's compass and found Vera being attacked by Unseen. Second, on top of that snowy peak, as an avalanche came thundering down. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

  "I didn't leave you to die." His voice was quiet.

  "You left me in the middle of nowhere on Hell's Peak, knowing clearly that I was lost—"

  "No, I knew you'd find the way," he interrupted.

  "How could you possibly know that?" My voice rose with my anger. "I didn't even know that!"

  "I knew…" He swallowed, wincing as if he were forcing down a bite that'd turned rotten. "I knew he was there, and that he'd find you. I knew you'd be all right."

  I searched his face. "You mean Alex."

  Danton's eyes narrowed a shade, and his hatred flushed through me. He hated Alex.

  "Yes," he said. "I knew he was there."

  "How?"

  "Right before Hell's Peak, my father discovered Alexander Del Conte was on that mountain. I don't know how he found out—he has eyes and ears everywhere. But I knew if Alexander Del Conte was there, it was because of you. I'd been waiting for you, on the other side of the wall. Hoping we could find the stone together, but then you wanted to run off in the wrong direction. I couldn't risk someone else getting to the stone before I did, Daria. I had to get it," he said through clenched teeth, "and knowing he was near was my consolation you'd be all right."

  "That doesn't change the fact that you abandoned me for a rock."

  "Do you have any idea what my father would have done to me had I not taken that stone? I didn't have a choice!"

  "We always have a choice!"

  Danton turned his face from me, fuming as his jaw worked over. "No." His voice was so low it trembled. "We don't always have a choice, and I would think you of all people might understand that." He looked up at me from beneath his pale brow, those eyes a sharp, icicle blue.

  He was reminding me of my "choice" to marry him.

  I'd opened my mouth to retort, but then closed my lips and sat back on my cushion with a slow exhale. "What about Steerforth?"

  "What about Steerforth?"

  I narrowed my eyes, remembering the sight of Steerforth's dead body lying in the snow. "You murdered him—"

  "I did not murder him." His voice was hard as granite. "That was done by members of the shadowguard. I didn't see it happen…I swear. Steerforth was dead when I reached him, and I wasn't about to linger knowing shadowguard were near. I didn't mean to sound so callous about it on the mountaintop, but I was angry and, perhaps, a little frightened myself. I know it's no excuse, but that's the truth. I never much cared for Steerforth, but I never would have wished that fate upon him."

  I searched his face and his emotions, looking for any signs of contradiction, but he wasn't lying to me, as far as I could tell. "All right," I said, "but that still doesn't change the fact that you left me to die, in the middle of an avalanche. With the shadowguard."

  I could still see those black figures on the mountaintop. I could see Alex and Vera and Ehren, all of us fighting together to hold them off while the mountain trembled and banks of snow collapsed all around us. Danton had conveniently vanished with Kenley Vega and the unity stone. If it weren't for the vox, we never would've made it out of there alive.

  "You weren't going to die," he said.

  "What, do you own the golden scissors to my string of fate?" I folded my arms over my chest. "Or maybe you were just scared and saving your own skin."

  He scowled. "Believe it or not, I happen to be very well acquainted with the people you were with at the time, and I knew that with their combined talents, there was no way they'd let anything happen to you."

  This was so frustrating. I couldn't argue his points if all of his points were founded on his intuition. So I decided to let his circumstantial cowardice slide and approach this from a different angle.

  "And why is it your father wanted the unity stone so badly in the first place?"

  Danton leaned back on his hands—still fuming as he stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. "Insurance."

  "For?"

  "Having a place in this war."

  "That doesn't make any sense. He seems so keen on keeping out of it."

  "I'm not talking about having a place on the battle field. Father wants to make sure he has a place in whichever regime survives, and if that means possessing an object of indeterminate value, highly coveted by both sides, he'll do anything for it. He's a practical man."

  "What about you?" I asked. "Are you a practical man, Lord Danton Pon
tefract?"

  He stared into my eyes for so long, I didn't think he was going to answer. But then he did, and his voice came out so quietly, I strained to hear it. "I'm not sure what I am. But I am not my father."

  I waited for him to continue, but he abruptly sat up and sliced more cheese while my thoughts whirled in a thousand directions. He'd shared a lot with me, but at the same time he'd shared nothing at all. I guessed I could be thankful for his honesty, or at least honest as he saw it. Sometimes people told themselves a lie so often it eventually became their truth. Maybe this was the case with Danton. He really didn't see himself as guilty of any of the accusations I'd thrown at him. He saw himself only as a victim surviving in his given circumstances. Did any of this mean I could trust him? I still wasn't sure. It depended on the kind of man Danton wanted to be, and he'd just admitted he didn't know who that was.

  I watched him handle the knife and cheese. His hands were much smaller than Alex's, his pale fingers delicate and refined, but his movements were sharp and quick. He didn't speak as he moved to a log of what looked like salami, cutting off bits and dividing them between us. When he handed me a few chunks, I thanked him, but he only nodded in response. He made himself a perfect bite of cheese, salami, and bread, and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, afterward washing it down with an impressive gulp of wine.

  He broke the silence after he swallowed. "I thought you were hungry."

  "Hm?"

  He waved a hand at my untouched food. "You haven't eaten anything."

  I'd been so lost in my thoughts I'd forgotten I was starving. I arranged a bite, stacking the elements as he'd done, but before I shoved it in my mouth, I paused to glance back at him. He was staring at one of the windows with a far-off look in his eyes. His anger had cooled some, and in its place something else had settled. Something cold and bitter. Something that looked very close to the Danton on Hell's Peak.

  I decided I should say something to lift the mood. Danton was my only friend here, if I could even call him a friend. But I needed to keep him on my side.