“Her aide said she’d been sick for some time. She wrote some of us letters.”
Allric opened his and asked, “What did yours say?” At her expression, he smiled. “You didn’t read it yet.”
“Not a chance. I should go.”
“Wait.”
Bethany did. He didn’t mean it as an order, but sometimes he forgot how to speak to friends.
Aneese’s letter had plenty to say about the Knights; he’d need more time to re-read and digest its contents. However, the head of the Faith basically said, if Allric understood her words, to let Bethany be a common soldier.
Aneese had been against Bethany becoming a knight since the beginning. Aneese had yelled and yelled at the former Lord Defender. When she got nowhere with him, she yelled at Allric, who was Lord Champion at the time. Getting nowhere with him, she yelled at Torius, Jovan, Jovan’s parents, and anyone else who would listen and knew of Bethany’s parentage. She’d wanted Bethany locked away somewhere quiet and peaceful, to be protected and safe. Presumably she’d be taken down off the shelf and dusted every couple of decades. Torius refused and said Bethany must be allowed to live her life.
And now Aneese said it was her behaviour that pushed Bethany to pursuit a career that would never make her truly happy. That the politics would eat her soul eventually.
“What does it say?”
He glanced up and was very careful to keep his expression neutral. Bethany had already asked to be reassigned back into field work and he had denied her request twice. Aneese would not have known that, yet she understood Bethany more than he obviously did. He would have to talk this over with Jovan later.
“Well?” She asked impatiently.
“She says I need to come back to the temple as soon as possible, since the Knights need me and Jud is making everyone crazy.”
“That sounds like her—and Jud.”
He went back to skimming through the letter. “She says to look after Amber and that she’s written…oh.” Tears welled in his eyes and his jaw quivered. “Oh, Aneese…”
Bethany walked over and sat on the sofa next to him. “What?”
“She’s written to Coffa.” Allric had been betrothed to Coffa before he’d eloped with Amber. Aneese had married them first thing in the morning after they’d made love that first night. He’d written a hastily-worded letter to Coffa and received a venom-filled letter in return. He deserved it. “She’s written to her to say how in love we are and to please forgive me. Apexia’s mercy. Aneese turned into a romantic in her final days.”
“Deep down,” Bethany said, “I think all elves are romantics.”
Allric flashed her a grin. “You might be right.”
****
Bethany delivered the rest of her letters before heading back to her study. It was still too cold to sleep in the bedroom, so she pulled her blankets and pillows out to the sofa. Then she dragged all of that over to the fire.
Chaise longue. Whatever it was called, it was an odd piece of furniture. One side of its back and armrest were significantly higher than the other, and it was embellished with exotic woods she’d never seen before. Beige velvet—though it probably had been white at one point in its life—covered the sofa. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it was better than her cold bed.
Even the floor was better than her bed.
Before settling away for the night, she dipped her mug into the pot hanging in her fireplace. Onion and garlic broth. She added a few drops of whiskey, just enough to help her cough lessen, and curled up in front of her fire. She didn’t like to drink much these days, but the whiskey helped the cough.
Once settled under the blankets, she let the tears pour down her cheeks. She didn’t even try to hold them back. She was simply too tired to care anymore. If she could not mourn the loss of a woman she’d known nearly her entire life, why was she even fighting?
Bethany looked at the letter on her desk. She should open it. Soon, she promised herself, but not tonight. It would be better when the shock wore off. Maybe tomorrow.
A knock sounded at her door. She stiffened, but relaxed when the voice said, “Beth, you there?”
“Come on in,” she said through her tears. She didn’t mind Jovan seeing her sick and crying. He’d seen her in far worse shape, and had sometimes been the one to clean her up.
He shut the door behind him and stared at her. “Why aren’t you sleeping in your bed?”
“It’s cold,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie.
“Nightmares, huh?”
She sighed and tugged up her feet so he could sit. He sat down and leaned against the shorter arm of the sofa, stretching his legs out and letting his booted heels rest on the floor.
“They’ll go away,” she said.
“I know,” Jovan said and his voice was so weary. “A couple nights ago, Eve had to slap me awake. I was dreaming about the temple being on fire and I couldn’t get to a room of children. I hate that one.”
Bethany sipped at her mug. The warm liquid sent shivers through her body as it purged the coldness from her bones. “I had the same dream for months. Everyone was standing around me waiting for me to tell them what to do, but I couldn’t remember what they should do. So they all burned in front of me. Every single time I slept, it was the same.”
“Oh, Beth,” Jovan said and she winced at the pity. “No wonder you were drinking so much.”
“I wish there was a way to reach into our memories and yank out the ones that hurt.”
Jovan didn’t reply. He let out a long breath, as though it was too difficult to speak. She understood. She’d never talked to Arrago about the nightmares. They were fortunate enough to have none when they were together, though they’d slept together so little there was hardly an opportunity. But Jovan? Jovan she could talk to.
She also knew he was there to talk about something other than nightmares. “Did you read your letter?”
“Yeah,” he said, and his voice quivered. “Do you know what was in mine?”
“No.”
He exhaled slowly, but it came out ragged. “I don’t think I should have read it.”
“Why?”
He reached into his breast pocket and passed the letter to her.
Bethany put her mug on the floor and accepted the page. It was just a few lines, unlike Allric’s which had been front and back of small script.
Jovan,
Apexia forgave you as soon as you asked her. I forgave you the moment you confessed to me. It’s time for you to forgive yourself.
Aneese
“Oh, Jovan…”
Jovan closed his eyes and inhaled sharply through his nose, but it did nothing to stop the tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes. He covered his face with his hand and choked back his sobs.
Bethany pushed back the blankets. “Come here.” She wrapped her arms around him, even as his hands stayed limp on his thighs.
Soon, the wall crumbled and Jovan broke into hiccupping sobs. His embrace crushed her ribs, but she didn’t complain. She held him as tightly as she could and let him weep into her mangled hair like a child. Neither spoke; just their combined weeping broke the silence. They’d seen so much together that they were beyond words.
“How can I forgive myself? I’ve done so much.”
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
“How do you do it?” Jovan sobbed. “How do you look at me and not see a monster?”
Bethany’s heart shattered and she gripped him so tight her muscles ached. “You are not a monster.”
“I’ve done things.”
“I know what you’ve done. I know it all. Am I a monster for not stopping you? Am I just as guilty for doing the same things? Jovan, this is what we do. We kill and maim and butcher, so people like Lendra and Celeste don’t have to. It is what we are.”
“Sometimes, I hate it,” Jovan said. “It hurts so bad I can’t breathe.”
“I know,” Bethany whisp
ered. “I know.”
Swagger and words were great for intimidating people, but there was always a cost. The ability to sleep soundly. The ability to look in a mirror and not be disgusted by who looked back. The ability to see no atrocities in the darkness.
She wished with all of her heart she could stop the hurt. She would love to stomp on it and make it disappear, but she also wondered if the pain helped keep her from making wrong decisions. Perhaps it was the hurt that made her and Jovan, and those like them, able to be the leaders the world needed them to be.
Several more minutes passed before Jovan’s breathing steadied and he pulled away. He gave Bethany a sheepish smile and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Thanks. Eve’s out and…I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be with fam—”
“If you make me cry again, I will cut you.”
He reached up and touched her face. “You know I love you, right?”
Tears fell from her eyes. “You ass.” Bethany pulled one of the pillows out from under her and hit him with it.
He balled up the pillow and shoved it under his head. Then, he wriggled until he could rest his head on the chaise’s arm, but still meet Bethany’s gaze. “It is nice to talk to someone who understands. It hurts to talk about it all, but it hurts not to talk about. Makes no sense.”
“Yes it does. It’s like tangled hair. You have to pull the knot through. It hurts, but it’s better than leaving the tangle there.”
Jovan smiled. “That almost made sense.”
“I know. I impressed myself with that one. Are you going to be all right?”
He shrugged. “Eventually. You?”
“Eventually.”
“Bethany?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do you sleep on this thing?”
“It’s warmer.”
“Hmm. I don’t believe you.”
She reached down and picked up her mug. The broth was cool enough now to guzzle, which she did. She fetched herself another one, sans alcohol this time. “Want some?”
“No, thanks. One of us smelling like ass is enough.”
Bethany leaned back with her newly-filled mug, reveling in the simple pleasure of the heat. It had been a cold winter, which had lingered. Castle Gree was warmer than the tents she’d slept in for the march north. Arrago had made a big fuss about giving her an apartment in the administrative wing with the others. She’d refused. Her office was cozy, with its own unique charm. It made her feel safe in front of the fire.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
She hadn’t told anyone. The servants never said anything and most people didn’t bother her once it was dark outside. A few servants did sneak in during the wee hours to light her fire, especially lately, so it wasn’t a secret. She wasn’t hiding it, necessarily, but she also wasn’t interested in advertising it.
“I think I want to tell someone,” she said. “Maybe it’ll make it go away. I keep dreaming about that first night when we rescued Drea from that slaver’s pit. I barely remember any of that night. I was half dead by the time we got to the safe house. You know what I remember, though?”
“What?”
“The bed. It was lumpy and the straw was old and musty. The bedposts creaked whenever the healers sat down.” She tipped her head toward her bedroom door. “And that stupid bed in there creaks the same way. And the straw smells the same. Every time I lie on it, I see Drea’s limp body covered in blood. I remember the slash across my back and how tight you’d tied the bandage. And I…” Her voice quivered. “I see all of the corpses I’d killed. I remember the squelching of parts under my feet. My stomach churning as I slipped on brains and blood…and…”
She heaved as the gruesome images flashed across her memory. Jovan grabbed the chamber pot just in time for her to vomit back up the broth she’d been drinking.
“I can’t…breathe…” she choked out, as she coughed until she vomited again.
Jovan held the pot with one hand and wrapped his arm tightly around her. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
Bethany sucked in a breath as her heart raced. She put a trembling hand to her chest. She closed her eyes, but could only see the blood. She’d slaughtered them, with Kiner and Jovan by her side. Blood everywhere. All of her clothes had to be burned that night because there was just too much blood. So much blood.
“Bethany, deep breath,” Jovan commanded. “You have to breathe.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to push the images away.
“Breathe. Just breathe.”
A minute or two passed before her heart settled enough to convince her she wasn’t dying. She closed her eyes and finally found the strength to replace the image of the bodies with a memory—of walking through tall wildflowers and grass. She ran her hand along the tops of the plants, sending bugs and butterflies floating away.
“Sorry,” she whispered. She mopped up the sweat on her brow with the edge of her blanket.
“It’s fine,” he said. He seemed to evaluate her before deciding to relax. “That was the first time you’ve ever told anyone about that night, isn’t it?”
Bethany gulped and nodded. Her mouth tasted disgusting. She stood up and poured some water into a glass. She swigged it around her mouth and spat it into the fire, which hissed in protest. “Maybe I should ask the chambermaid for a new bed. Celeste probably has a dozen in her suites.”
Jovan smiled.
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. “Grief does stupid shit to our heads, doesn’t it?”
Bethany crawled back under the blankets. “I honestly don’t know which is worse right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“The grief or this fucking cough that won’t go away. I hate being sick.”
He laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t sick.”
That made her snort. “Lady Champion Bethany can lie to her superiors. Jovan’s little sister can tell him the truth.”
Jovan threw back his head, smiling. “You haven’t called yourself that since you were a little girl.”
Bethany chuckled as a weight lifted from her shoulders. It was good to laugh. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”
He kicked her playfully in the leg with a booted foot.
“Hey! You came here for my company. What’s with making me talk about my feelings? That’s not how this consoling thing works.”
He shrugged. “We don’t get many of these quiet moments. I think Aneese said what she said because she knew I’d talk to you.”
“She could be such a manipulative hag, couldn’t she?”
“She was the master of passive-aggressive,” Jovan said with equal parts disgust and respect. After a moment, he added, “You need to talk about…this stuff. You know?”
“I know.”
“Eve and I talk about this shit. It always helps.”
“Jovan, I know,” Bethany said with emphasis. “I just don’t have anyone to talk with.”
“What am I?”
It was her turn to kick him. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah. I do. You should talk to him.”
Bethany made a disgusted sound. “Why does everyone want to me to talk to Arrago? There’s nothing there but more hurt.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jovan, he’s married. Not that it seems to stop Celeste.” She relayed her earlier encounter with Celeste, and Jovan whistled.
“That’s a tough woman right there. She’s right, though. There’s nothing stopping you and Arrago from—”
“Jovan, I can’t—not when he’s with her too. I have lines I won’t cross and that’s one of them.”
“Wait. Bethany? Tell me you don’t think her and Arrago…? Bethany, Bethany, use your brain. That’s Edmund’s child, you know that. You must know that.”
“For pity’s sake, Jovan, keep your voice down when you say that stuff. Of course I know. Or at least I’m pretty sure. But, well, they’re married and…” She
groaned. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“You should. I have significantly more experience in this area.”
“You really don’t.”
Jovan glared at her. “I really do.”
“No you don’t.”
“I’m a man-whore, Bethany. I need you to say it.”
“Not a chance. I know it’s not true. A terrible, terrible flirt, but nothing more.”
“That is a lie.”
“I know the number of women you’ve actually slept with.” She grinned at his annoyed expression. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you, too, darling.”
After a few minutes, Jovan asked, “Why haven’t you read your letter yet?”
“I’m not ready.”
“What do you think it’ll say?”
She shrugged. “At first I was afraid her last words to me would be endless nagging about how I should be behaving. But now I’m afraid she’ll say kind things. I’m not ready for kind words from Aneese.”
“I know what you mean. That letter slapped me across the face.”
She sipped at her water. “The maids bring me extra firewood these days. I can keep this roaring all night long. Want to stay?”
“I’d like that very much.”
“So would I.”
CHAPTER 5
The Present
“Majesty, can I not persuade you to stay?” Lord Stanley pleaded as he walked alongside Arrago.
It was one in the morning and Arrago was organizing the final details before he left for the northern front. This was it. He’d come back or he wouldn’t. And if he didn’t, by Apexia’s holy name, things would be run the way he wished them to be.
“What kind of king would I be if I stayed while others fought my war?”
Stanley sighed. “A living king, Majesty.”
Arrago gave him an amused look and they continued down the corridor. Arrago kept his pace brisk, but did not walk as fast as he could, for the old man's sake. “Lord Stanley, I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d be happy to have a real king on the throne.”
Fury (Tranquility Book 3) Page 5