Canes of Divergence (Dusk Gate Chronicles)

by Puttroff, Breeana

  “I don’t know. It’s something that’s being investigated. Jonathan traveled all this way to tell us in person to avoid the risk of sending that kind of message that far with a bird. But that, of course, leaves us not knowing what’s happened in Philotheum since he left.”

  “If you don’t have prisons that people can’t escape from here, you should have just killed him.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about that, Zander. It’s more complicated than that. He’s not just a random criminal. He’s Quinn’s half-uncle, and the son of the man who was prince regent for many cycles. There are a number of people in Philotheum who supported his bid for the throne before they knew about Quinn. Some of them haven’t let go of that, and don’t yet trust Quinn. Having him executed could have set off problems we weren’t prepared to deal with.”

  “Well, are you prepared to deal with this, William? If he has supporters, how do you know he’s not running off to them, planning some kind of attack against Quinn?”

  “My guess is that’s exactly what he’s doing.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “We, Zander? You are going to take Owen home in a few days where both of you will be safe and out of this mess. You are going to make absolutely sure that Owen closes that gate in a way that it stays closed, because the last thing we need is for someone like Tolliver to be able to travel between the worlds.”

  ~ 28 ~

  The Letter

  Rosewood Castle, Eirentheos

  THE BABY’S SOFT fussing noises woke Quinn. William was already holding him, waiting for her as she struggled to sit up, glancing toward the curtains as she did.

  “Yes, it’s morning already,” he said, as she saw the tell-tale line of light reflected on the wall under the curtains. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Just now for a little while I did, I think.” Most of the night had been plagued by restlessness, frightening dreams, and a wakeful baby. “I don’t think I’m dealing very well with this news.” She looked at him again, suddenly noticing that he was already dressed. “How long have you been up?”

  “An hour or so. I took him out of here for a while when I thought you might actually be asleep. But he’s hungry now.” He scooted close to her, helping her get the baby settled in, and then wrapping his arm around her back. “I don’t think there’s a way to deal well with the news. I have half a mind to go out and hunt for Tolliver myself.”

  She looked at him in alarm.

  “I won’t, Quinn. Of course I won’t. We’ll stay here and wait for more news from the scouts.”

  Hours of meeting with Jonathan, Marcus, and Stephen last night hadn’t yielded much of a plan. They simply didn’t know enough. Today, Stephen was going to be gathering soldiers to head to Philotheum and get as much information as they could find. Jonathan had probably already left to go and seek out some of his contacts.

  “We need to get back to Philotheum as soon as we can,” Quinn said. “There’s too much I can’t do from here. Too many people it’s not safe to send messages to. I want to know who’s responsible for this happening.”

  He nodded. “We can speak to my family about leaving a few days earlier than planned – right after we get Owen home safely.”

  * * *

  Breakfast felt almost normal, although Quinn could see in Stephen’s face that he was as tired as she was.

  Nathaniel, too, looked exhausted, and she saw him glance at William and give a shake of his head. The strange, rabid man was gone.

  At least the conflict with Zander had reached some resolve. He no longer seemed edgy and angry. He sat at the table across from them, pouring honey and cream on his cereal as if it was a normal thing for him to do, chatting politely with everyone and keeping to the unspoken agreement not to talk about the disturbing revelations of the day before.

  Although Ben and Marcus were in a hurry to finish the meal and run off to busy themselves with tasks that would make them feel like they were doing something to help, and Linnea wanted to be with them, Thomas and Joshua invited Zander to go with them down to the gym to practice with swords again. Everyone was needing to feel prepared.

  “You should give him a horseback riding lesson,” she said to Thomas as they got ready to leave.

  She’d meant it as a joke, but nobody took it that way. Not even Zander, who nodded somberly, even though he was probably more sore today than he’d been yesterday. He was really going to get on a horse again. She didn’t know why or what to think about that.

  In the end, she turned to Owen. “Want to come upstairs and hang out with me and William for a while? The other kids have their lessons this morning.”

  “Yeah. But I want to get something first.”

  “Okay.”

  She and William watched as Owen scampered off. Almost immediately, Samuel, who was in William’s arms, began to fuss.

  “I really think he knows,” William said incredulously, lifting the baby to his shoulder and trying to calm him.

  “I feel the same way when I watch him walk away from me,” she said, leaning up against William’s arm as they started heading toward the stairs.

  By the time they arrived at their suite, though, Owen was already back. Samuel grew completely calm at the sound of his uncle’s voice, remaining that way even as William carried him over to one of the couches and began changing his diaper.

  “What’s that you have there?” Quinn asked, as she settled in to the middle of the largest couch, patting the cushion beside her so that Owen would climb up.

  Owen was holding a bag – a nice big one, heavy cloth in a pretty floral pattern, with a large strap and several compartments. He had to have brought it from home, though Quinn had never seen it before.

  “I meant to give this to you when I first came,” he said, hefting it onto the couch as he climbed up next to it. It looked heavy – full. “But I forgot, and it ended up under the bed somehow. Mia found it under there and got it out for me this morning.”

  Quinn smiled. As smart as Owen was about so very many things, organization was not his strong suit. “That’s okay.” She kissed him on the forehead. “They’re kind of tall beds, aren’t they?” Poor Mia was probably spending lots of her time digging stuff out of there for Owen. “But what is it?”

  He looked down at his pant legs, rubbing at something that was probably visible only to him. “Mom bought the bag for you one day when we went shopping, after we got back to Bristlecone. She said it looked like something you would like.”

  “Oh. It is nice,” she said quietly, around the little lump forming in her throat.

  “She’s been filling it up with things she wants to give you when we come and visit after the school year is over.”

  Quinn closed her eyes for several seconds. “You didn’t tell her that you closed the gate, did you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m going to tell her – when it’s summer.”

  She didn’t know if it was better or worse that her mom wasn’t aware of the gulf that separated them. Better, maybe, because surely she wouldn’t be sitting here looking at a present from her if she’d known how unlikely it was that Quinn would ever receive it.

  William had finished changing the baby and wrapping him back up in his blanket, and he carried him over. Samuel was beginning to fuss quietly again, and Owen held his arms up.

  “I think he might be hungry, buddy.”

  “He’s not eating his hands. Let me try.”

  William chuckled and knelt down to place Samuel in Owen’s outstretched arms. Owen cuddled him close, and the fussing immediately quieted. Quinn had to use the edge of a burp cloth on her eyes again as William sat down on the other side of her, putting an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. He also pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and laid it in her lap – he was always so much more prepared with those than she was. “So what’s in the bag?” he asked.

  Curious as she was, unzipping the bag was hard, as if she were really reaching across univ
erses to touch her mother. The first item she pulled out didn’t help. It was a tiny pair of shoes – though a bit big for Samuel yet – still bearing the tags from a boutique in Bristlecone. They were nestled inside a little green-and-white baseball cap. It was very soft.

  She looked at Owen in shock. “Does she know?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head.

  William squeezed her shoulder. “She may just know it’s been long enough in our world, that by the time she was planning on visiting…”

  “Yeah.” Owen held Samuel a little more upright so she could put the hat on his head – it fit perfectly. The baby didn’t even fuss; he seemed to like it.

  “What if we’d had a girl?”

  From where he was sitting, William could see into a different part of the bag than she could. Stretching across her, he reached inside and pulled out another pair of shoes – this time little white, patent-leather Mary Janes. A pair of lacy socks was tucked inside one, and a soft little green headband with a bow was inside the other.

  “We’ll save these,” he said.

  She nodded, reaching in again, this time her hand landing on something that was soft in a very familiar way.

  “How?” she gasped, as she pulled out the tiny knitted blanket. It was familiar, not because she remembered it from her world, but because, right there next to her on the couch, her son was wrapped in one that was almost identical – though Samuel’s was much newer than the one in her hand.

  William lifted the corner of it, revealing three perfectly stitched words: Quinn Katriel Rose. “My mother will finish Samuel’s like that after the Naming Ceremony,” he said quietly. “She must have made that one for you.”

  The bag didn’t get any easier. There was a whole pocket of small trinkets from Quinn’s room – things that had been important to her, a little photo album of her friends she’d been keeping for several cyc – years.

  The hardest part of looking through everything wasn’t that it was full of nostalgia, though – it was the fact that there was so little of it.

  Every item in that bag had been selected carefully – she could almost imagine her mother packing, then unpacking, then re-packing as she chose things Quinn would enjoy or appreciate having, but that wouldn’t undermine her choice to stay here. Megan had accepted it, and although it had to have been next to impossible for her, she was doing her best to support Quinn’s new life.

  There was Quinn’s favorite rain jacket – nothing like that waterproof material existed here in Deusterros – and the book of fairy tales that had been her most beloved as a child. She’d start reading that to Samuel tonight.

  In one of the pockets, she even found a whole stack of packets of seeds – tomatoes and cantaloupe – oh, how she missed cantaloupe. She looked up at William in disbelief. “Will these grow here?”

  “I don’t know why they wouldn’t. We can try as soon as we get them home.”

  She smiled.

  “Don’t think that means you’re going to get me to eat tomatoes, though.”

  “I wouldn’t presume.” She’d reached the bottom of the bag now, and pulled out a small cardboard box decorated with tiny gold hearts, the kind you’d keep pictures or mementos in. It was old – the edges were worn a bit, and the top was more faded than the sides, but she’d never seen it before. She was a little hesitant as she pulled off the lid.

  The things inside were definitely old. A baby book – Quinn hadn’t even known that her mother had made one for her – a little baggie with the trimmings of very fine auburn hair inside, and a stack of pictures. The picture on top was of a much-younger Nathaniel holding a bundle in a green blanket, sitting on a couch that these days resided in the basement at Quinn’s mom’s house.

  She wasn’t ready to look through the rest of the pictures yet.

  At the bottom, underneath all of the baby memories Quinn would have to sort through later, there was a thick envelope, yellowing slightly with age. On the front, written in elegant script that she didn’t recognize, was the word “Quinn.”

  She didn’t know why her hands were shaking slightly as she picked it up and turned it over. William pulled her just a little closer.

  It was still sealed with green wax – the same way she now sealed official messages in Philotheum – though it was missing the stamp with the emblem of her kingdom. The person who had written it – and she was almost sure she knew, now, who the handwriting belonged to – probably hadn’t had access to the stamp while he’d been in her world. Instead, he’d etched a tiny rose into the wax.

  The paper inside was heavy and thick – of good enough quality that age hadn’t much affected it. The script on it matched the handwriting on the envelope. Her hands shook even more when she read the date at the top. The letter had been written only the day before her father had died.

  Sweet Princess Quinn,

  I hope there never comes a time when you’re reading this letter. If you ever do have to read it, please know that I am sorry. There are so many, many things I wanted to tell you myself, rather than have you read them in a letter or hear them from your mother or Nathaniel.

  As I write this, you and your mother are asleep, stretched out on the bed together at the cabin in the mountains we rented for the summer, enjoying an afternoon nap after playing in the lake all morning. You caught two fish today with the little pole Nathaniel brought up last week. You even helped me clean them. Your smile was so big when I told you we would eat them for dinner tonight. Although I’m hoping to have time while you rest to finish this letter, I can hardly wait until you wake and we can begin our adventures again.

  If you are reading this letter, it’s because we never got to have all of the adventures I’d hoped to have together, and writing this only makes me more anxious to not miss a single one we have left.

  This evening, once you are asleep for real, I will show this to your mother. She won’t be happy with me when I ask her to hold onto it, to give it to you only after you know the truth about me – the truth about yourself – and when the day comes you might need to know what’s inside.

  Maybe you understand, now that you’re reading it. Now that you know who you are, the true Queen of Philotheum. Maybe you’re still angry with me for hiding it from you. Please be angry with me, sweetheart, and not with your mother.

  She has always done her best to trust me and to do what I ask in a very difficult situation. If you need any more proof of that, you need look no further than the fact that this letter is in your hands, and the seal was unbroken. It breaks my heart to write something as important as this and not share it with her. I only hope that someday you are able to find a companion as worthy of your trust and affection as your mother is of mine.

  If you have this letter, it means you've not only discovered who you really are, but that you have also chosen to return to our world to attempt to assume your rightful place. When I dreamed that day might come, the dream always included my standing beside you – you returning as a real princess, and not the affectionate nickname I use in this world – and myself as the king. But clearly that wasn’t to be.

  The reason I’m writing this letter now is because some things have happened recently to make me fear that our safety has been compromised.

  I wonder if you think I’m a coward for leaving my kingdom and coming and hiding in this world. It’s all right if you do; I wonder the same thing myself. I don’t know what you’ve been told of the events that led up to my decision, but there are parts I never told anyone.

  I’m sure that at this point, you have been told of Dalphius’ prophecies. I wish I could tell you that I was never young and vulnerable to such nonsense, but I was. The day Dalphius predicted that my son would never live to sit on the throne, I allowed fear to dictate my decisions. My childhood had already been torn apart, my siblings and I lived in fear, and I wanted none of that for my child.

  Imagine my surprise, though, when I discovered Dalphius’ prediction was correct. My son will
never sit on the throne. Instead, by the grace of the Maker, it will be my beautiful, strong daughter who lays all of this to rest.

  I should never have given myself to fear. It is a vicious, soul-destroying weed. Had I told others of the prophecy, instead of fearing it, I wouldn’t be writing this letter now. You wouldn’t be the first to know.

  My stepfather, Hector, is a frightening and determined man, who is capable of great damage. His greatest asset, however, is a man named Rahas. Rahas is, unofficially, Hector’s most valued guard. The title is unofficial, however, because most people don’t even know he exists. Rahas has always moved like a shadow at my stepfather’s side, obeying his every command, carrying out deeds that Hector either takes credit for, or ones he wishes to have no association with.

  It is Rahas who killed my father, and who, after my father’s other guards failed, was tasked with murdering me.

  And he’s here in our world.

  Earlier this week, when I went back down to Bristlecone for a couple of days to check on the store, I saw him. It was early evening by the time I got there. I was driving, down near the bridge like I always do, there’s just a part of me that has to check every time, and there he was. I’ve only ever actually seen him twice in my life, but I would recognize his midnight-black hair in any world.

  The next thing I did was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life, but I didn’t stop to think about it, Quinn. I drove straight to the store and got the gun we keep under the counter, and I drove back over there and confronted him.

  At first, he was much more worried about the car I drove up there in than anything. Once he was between me and the car, though, he laughed, and wouldn’t answer my questions. That was when I pulled out the gun and shot an unlucky rabbit that was foraging nearby. I think that in the end, though, the rabbit may get off easier than I will for that choice.

  I got most of the answers I was looking for. I still don’t know how Hector knew about the gate, but he hasn’t known for long. He only suspected I might be here, but he didn’t know for sure – oh what a mistake it was for me to confront Rahas and reveal my position. He’d been here for five days without learning anything. He still doesn’t know about Nathaniel, and most importantly, he has no idea about you.