My brother? Kat is marrying my brother? Just because some silly boy thinks my position isn't worthy enough? I try to reign in my emotions, but the best I can do is grit my teeth, press my head harder against the desk, and clench my fists. There is no backtracking from my rage. I have to let it roll off me, let the tide turn just enough to get the upper hand.
My father is silent. As he should be. He knows firsthand the massive reserve of anger that lives inside me. After Kat was taken, he was the one who held me together as I erupted against the world. He was the one who hauled me kicking and screaming through it all. And now this?
Finally my father breaks the silence.
"This is the only way you will ever see her again. If you agree to this, she will still be a part of your life . . . just in another way. If we defy her brother, she will be lost to you forever. Travis will take good care of the girl, you know that he will."
"You realize this plan of yours is dependent on my discretion," I say, staring at my father, my indignation boiling over. "I know she still loves me deep down. If I told her she was promised to me first, she wouldn't go along with this marriage. I can feel it between us father, it's still there!"
He glares at me.
"I will not sit by and watch the girl I love marry someone else, much less my own brother!"
My father stands up, his eyes bulging and veins throbbing, as his face turns an intense shade of red. I have never seen him this furious before.
"I will NOT be defied boy! I've tried to make this as easy for you as I can, but I will not be disobeyed. The girl will stay here, and she will marry your brother! This new General . . . this boy-king, is hotheaded and I will not risk a conflict. He is her only family, and if he says she marries your brother . . . she does!"
Letting his harsh words roll off my wounded heart, I look at the floor defeated. I have never challenged my father, and I don't even know how to start. Feeling the tears roll down my face, I'm just as powerless to stop them.
"How can I just stand by and watch her marry someone else? The only thing that has kept me going for the last six months was the thought that she would be coming back to me. Keeping her from me now would be the ultimate torture. How can you have so much hatred for me?"
My father sighs.
"It's not hate that drives me boy. It's fear. Axiom is growing and I fear they are now large enough to become dangerous. I have to protect this city, and I will do anything to make sure your future is secure. That includes taking Katherine from you. I know you can't see this now, but what I do, I do out of love."
"Father, I can't . . . I just . . . can't."
"Yes you can. You’ve survived so much; I know you are strong enough to survive this. You will not tell the girl about your prior relationship. I have already sent word to everyone in the Big House. Whatever relationship you had with the girl is over. As far as anyone is concerned, it never happened."
"But it did," I say sadly.
"No son, it didn't."
KATHERINE
I am in the middle of a staring contest with a ferocious looking mounted boar, when I hear muffled shouting in the next room. Straining to hear what they are saying, I lean forward in the chair, tempted to get up and walk closer. The thickness of the wall prevents me from making out any of their words, but the intensity of the sound convinces me to stay seated. I do not want to be caught eavesdropping with tempers already running that high.
Violently, the door to the General's office is thrown open, and Grayson storms out with a dark scowl on his face, barely glancing in my direction as he passes.
"He wants to see you," he mutters before he disappears around the corner.
My legs shake as I stand up and walk through the door, even more terrified than I was before. Shutting the door behind me softly, I walk to the center of the room.
Tall and broad shouldered, the General is intimidating and an almost perfect, though older, version of his son. When I walk in, he is sitting behind a large, oak desk shuffling through a stack of paper, and blinking rapidly. Is he crying? The General doesn't look up at me, and I don't draw attention to myself. If he needs a few minutes, you can bet I am going to give it to him. His mannerisms and body shape are so like Grayson's, that I am surprised when he finally looks up at me with eyes so unlike his son's. Where Grayson's are a soft, but fiery brown, the General's are a steely blue.
Walking a few timid steps into the room, I sit quietly in the chair facing his desk. Crossing my ankles, I smooth my skirt and fold my hands in my lap. He breaks eye contact and continues to shuffle through his papers for a few moments before finally setting them down and clearing his throat.
"I appreciate your patience," he says, his voice raspy. "It is a compliment to your upbringing. I do hate a fidgety woman."
"Thank you for seeing me."
"Of course, my dear. We have some things to discuss, you and I."
"We do?" I ask.
"Yes, and you might find it a bit shocking, so prepare yourself," he pauses. "I understand you do not remember who you are, but the fact of the matter is, I do. Everyone here knows who you are."
"You know who I am?" I ask, excited.
"Yes. You are Katherine Winters, the daughter of the former General of Axiom. Your parents were my close friends and frequent guests before you were taken."
"What do you mean taken?"
"It's a sad story," he says, looking away, "and one I am not eager to retell. Six months ago, while traveling to our city, your parents were murdered outside of our gates. The men who killed them took you. I am not sure why you were spared, but we are all eternally grateful that you were. I deeply regret revealing such dark news, but your father was my dearest friend, and I felt that I should be the one to tell you."
"The man I was with killed my parents?"
"You met the man who was keeping you?" he asks, surprised.
"Only briefly. I woke up with my memory wiped. He said it was to protect me, and left soon after."
"Well, he may have been telling the truth. About a month ago, we received a letter from him saying he was sending you home to us, but that you wouldn't remember anything. He claims he was working for someone, but the deal was going sour and he was concerned for your safety. According to his note, he was only keeping you hidden, and had no knowledge of how or why you were brought to him. I am surprised he took the risk letting you see him."
"He said he loved me . . . "
"I don't doubt it my dear," he smiles, "You have always been very easy to love.
The two of us sit in silence for a moment, the General clearly studying my face. I am not sure how to feel, or what emotion I should let come to the surface. Sadness? Fear? Anger? Disbelief? They were all equally vying for the right to be displayed. The General seems satisfied with whichever was showing, nodding his head and plastering a sympathetic expression on his own face.
"Do you remember his name?" he asks.
"He wouldn't tell me."
"Would you recognize him if you saw him?"
"Yes, I dream of him often so I don't think I could forget."
"Do you dream of anything from before you were taken?"
"No. Just him. And sometimes I have nightmares but I can't recall them when I wake up."
"Hmm . . . " he says thoughtfully. "That changes things."
"It does?"
"Yes," he says, stroking his chin. "I think you may have been drugged twice. If he is the only person you dream of, he is probably the only person you knew before he himself drugged you. Otherwise you would also be dreaming of the rest of us. You don't remember anything about your kidnapping or what happened to your parents?"
"No, but I suppose it could be the source of my nightmares. Does everyone dream when they have their memory wiped?"
"Well, truthfully, your memories are not wiped but blocked, though I am not sure how that would work if you were dosed twice. You might very well have lost what happened before the first pill. The dreams are a side effect. The drug i
s not as effective while you sleep, and memories sneak out in the form of vivid dreams. We are not sure why, but we think it has something to do with the effort put into trying to recall them all day. We have noticed the harder you try to remember, the more dreams you have."
"Is this something that happens on a regular basis?" I ask, unintentionally sharp. "Do people just go around wiping memories?"
"Once upon a time it was, although we haven't had access to the pills in 20 years. I am curious as to how your kidnappers got their hands on them."
"So, let me see if I have all of this," I say rubbing my forehead. "My memories are blocked, my parents are dead, the man who said he loved me was possibly involved in their death, and the dreams I was told were not memories are, in fact, memories . . . is that all?"
"I know it is a lot to take in, but no, that is not all. You have an older brother, Lucas, who is now the General of Axiom. He wanted to be here, of course, but it is very difficult for a General to leave his city."
"This is a lot to take in," I say, sitting back in the chair, overwhelmed.
"I know, and I hate to pile it on, but there is one more thing I need to tell you before I let you go," he says. "As I said before, you and your family were outside our gates when you were attacked. Your parents were bringing you here to marry my son. You two have been practically engaged since you were children. We hadn't officially announced the engagement or the wedding yet, but it had been decided years ago. Your brother and I still wish for this marriage to take place. After you have had some time to readjust, of course."
Unable to process anything further, I put my head in my hands. Breathing deep, I remain that way, waiting for my nerves to calm. Murder? Kidnapping? Marriage? How was I supposed to absorb it all?
"It was really hard on the boy when you were taken," the General says sadly. "You two had become fond of each other."
"That is actually the only part of this that feels real," I say finally. "I felt very drawn to Grayson, and couldn't figure out why."
"Actually," the General says, looking a little green about the gills, "you were intended to marry my older son, Travis."
"Oh!" I say embarrassed. "I just assumed you meant Grayson. I didn't realize you had another son. I think I am just a little overwhelmed. I just need some time to get a handle on . . . everything."
"I understand," he says looking concerned. "The female constitution is a fragile thing. I would expect nothing less, my dear. Take the rest of the day to get settled in and rest. We can continue our conversation tomorrow. I am afraid it is not a happy tale and you will need your strength for it."
"What were their names?"
"Who?"
"My parents. What were their names?"
"Ana and Jonathan. They were good people. Some of the best I have ever known. You look very much like your mother, although your eyes are your father's."
The General pulls a rope near his desk, and a few minutes later a man in a crisp uniform comes in and makes a little bow.
"Weston," the General says. "Take Lady Katherine to one of the guest rooms to freshen up."
"Of course, Sir."
"After a brief rest I am afraid you have one more meeting to attend to before you can be brought to the living quarters," the general says looking grim.
"Oh?"
"My mother. I do wish it could be put off, but she can be difficult when she sets her mind to something, and she really wants to meet with you as soon as possible."
"I am sure I will be up to meeting her after I've had a few minutes to myself."
"You are a true blessing, Katherine," he says standing up and taking my hand. "I have always thought so. I am so very thankful that you have been returned to us, and have the good breeding to accept all of this tragic news with such grace."
Weston leads me out of the room and down a long hall. He opens a door and ushers me inside.
"The maids are freshening up your suite. It won't be ready for a bit so you are welcome to rest here."
"Thank you, Sir."
"It's Weston, Miss. Servants are always addressed by their first names. Because of your station, you will only address the General by Sir."
"Thank you, Weston. I appreciate your help. I am afraid there are a great many things I have forgotten since I was last here."
He leaves, and I flop on the bed to cry my eyes out. I can't picture my family, and have no real emotional connection to them, but the thought that they were murdered is devastatingly sad.
After some intense soul searching, and a good deal of bawling, I sit up and use the mirror to try and make amends with my appearance. My eyes are red and puffy, and my hair is a disheveled mess, but I do my best to straighten myself up. I have just finished tying my hair back when a soft knock sounds at the door. I pull it open and find the oddest-looking human I have ever seen.
Tiny, with iron gray hair and cold blue eyes, she shuffles her way into my room. The lines and wrinkles of her skin look like rough leather, and her eyes are cloudy and tired. She looks nothing like the older women in Ruth's village. They seemed strong and capable, even in their advanced age, but this lady seems frail, weak, and utterly breakable. Her long, thin fingers look as though some unseen force is twisting them around on themselves. I can't stop staring, half expecting them to become even more distorted as I watch.
"Arthritis," she says when she catches me staring. "One of the few illnesses not eradicated by the Cleanse."
I try desperately not to gawk at her, but I am transfixed by the slow, careful way she moves around, as if just the act of walking was enough to shatter her bones.
"How old are you?" I ask.
"When did you become so filthy rude?" She croaks.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to say that out loud."
"I'm sure you didn't," she smirks. "Age is nothing to be ashamed of, little girl. I am 83 years old. I assume you don't remember me, so I will introduce myself. My name is Marilyn Andrews, and I am the General's mother."
"It's nice to meet you. If you don't mind me asking, why haven't I seen anyone else your age in Veracity?"
"I should be with all the others, I suppose, but I get special treatment because of who my son is. Typically, when a person turns 50, they are moved to the elder camp. Now, I have answered your question. Time for you to answer a few of mine."
"Of course. Ask away."
"Very well. What do you remember from before you were taken?"
"Absolutely nothing. Some things seem familiar, and I have a general knowledge that randomly appears, but I can't access my memory when I try."
"What kind of general knowledge?"
"Things like the proper way to put on this gown, and the fact that it is called a gown. However, I couldn't remember the significance of the colors or the right ones to wear. I recognized a blackberry and knew it was edible, but couldn't remember if I liked it. That sort of thing."
"I see, and what do you remember about when you were away?"
"Not very much. I dream about running through the woods and of a little cabin, but I have no actual memories beyond that."
"This man who had you. Did he tell you anything?"
"Just that the world was dangerous. He said he loved me and was sad to see me go, but it was the only way for me to be safe."
"That's it?"
"Yes, he told me my name and to head north to a safe house. Then he left me."
"That certainly is strange," she says, staring at me, stroking her chin in thought much like her son.
"Do you mind me asking a few more questions?" I ask.
"Go ahead, but I don't promise to answer. A woman my age values her secrets."
"Why are you here?" I ask. "I don't mind of course, but I am curious."
"I had questions, you had answers. Next question."
"Did you know my parents?"
"They were good people. Jonathan, your father was a dear friend of my son. He was quite the funny man. A jokester, if you will. Your mother was quiet, but beauti
ful. She had one of those faces that spoke for her. I was deeply saddened at their passing."
"And my brother?"
"A nice boy, ambitious and smart as a whip. He had some quick learning to do when your father passed but he is handling Axiom well. You two were very close I believe."
"It feels so strange," I sigh. "One minute having no history, and the next . . ."
"I imagine it is very difficult," she interrupts, patting my shoulder. "Time is short dear, is there anything else you want to know?"
"How old am I?"
"Eighteen, your birthday was December 18th. It's July now if you didn't know."
"And Travis?"
"A little older, he turned twenty in April."
"And Grayson?"
"You've met Grayson?"
"He found me at the safe house."
"Of course, I had forgotten. Grayson's birthday is only a few days after yours. He is eighteen as well. One more question."
"What is my future here?"
"You can never tell the fate of a man," she says smiling," "But since you are a woman, it is fairly easy. You will marry the boy. Have a few kids, and live a life that requires very little thought on your part."
I just stare at her. Was that it? Would that be the sum of my life?
She pats my hand before standing up, and cackles to herself as she makes her way out the door, closing it behind her.
Is it possible to feel lost and found at the exact same time? I spend the next few hours curled up in a little ball, alternating between fits of restless sleep and crying. Sometime in the morning, Weston wakes me, informing me that the doctor would be by soon to see me. Apparently, my mysterious brother is concerned that my time away, "in the wild" as he put it, has changed me, or left me with some ill effects. Although an examination is not on my short list of fun things to do, I don't mind.
The doctor comes in wearing a white coat over her pale pink gown. Her face is kind, and her voice friendly, putting me at ease. She grabs a chair and drags it over to the bedside. Sitting down, she gives me a big smile, crossing her long legs.
"So," she says. "The General has asked me, on behalf of your brother, to conduct a full examination. Do you understand what is all involved? It is a bit invasive at times and I want you to be fully prepared."
Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) Page 8