"I am so relieved to hear you say that. I almost refused Grayson when he begged me to tell you. I was so afraid you would hate me. I have turned him down so many times, but after the incident with Alana, he just couldn't let it go."
"I couldn't hate you. I know what it is like to try and do the right thing, to be the right person, even when you are not sure you like who that is."
"What about Grayson? Will you go to him?"
"Not in the way that he hopes. A strong attraction is one thing, but love is something different altogether. We haven't exactly had a chance to build a relationship. Besides, from what I am hearing, I am still set to marry you. Has that changed?"
"No," Travis says, surprised, "not yet. Your brother knows nothing of us telling you, and my father will not defy him. It is dangerous to do so. Axiom is in a position to crush us should Lucas take it upon himself to do so."
"I understand that Grayson is hurting, but if my possibly crazy brother is using my marriage as a catalyst for aggression, telling me was not the wisest thing to do. I don't know what Grayson is expecting from this. I may not know myself as well as I should, but I know I'm strong enough to choose reason over emotion. Will you refuse to marry me now that I know Grayson loves me, and I once loved him?"
"Of course not. If my father commands it, I will obey."
"Then I think it is time to stop living in the past and start trying to find a connection between us. Don't you agree?"
"What about my brother? He was hoping that this revelation would jog your memory or convince you to come back to him."
"I will talk to him, but he will have to move on. I won't deny that I want him, but my duty is to the well being of the city. I gave up my right to choose when I walked through those gates. I have no delusions about that."
"I will do my best to make you happy," Travis says, kissing the back of my hand. "You know that don't you?"
"You already make me happy, Travis. You are the only person in this family who has been consistently kind to me. The love will come, and I am so lucky to have such a good friend to share my life with."
The carriage sways back and forth as we slowly progress down the main road. As we ride, he tells me stories from our childhood. Simple things like running through the halls and playing in the garden. In all our time together, I have never felt closer to him. He seems lighter, less dramatic, and more himself. I guess he was under just as much pressure as the rest of us to play his part.
Midway through our trip, the carriage slows to a stop. I lean my head out of the window to see what is happening, and a small girl with long braided pigtails hands me a white rose. I reach out and take the flower from her, bringing it to my nose to inhale the soft sent. She turns and runs from me as a loud bang echoes through the street.
"Travis did you hear . . . "
But Travis isn't there to answer. What remains of him is nothing more than a broken shell, slumped down in the seat next to me. Before I can even react, the driver is throwing my door open and dragging me out. The people around us are erupting in screams of terror and disbelief. Travis' lifeless eyes stare back at me as I am pulled away. This can't be real. Travis was the bright light, the best of us all, and now he is nothing more than a puff of smoke, fading before my eyes.
The driver hauls me down the street, throws me through the door of the bakery, and orders me to stay put. I am abandoned in the shop while he leaves in search of help. The warm smell of bread is overpowering, and I claw my way to the bathroom, retching over and over until there is nothing left in me; until I am truly hollow. The tears finally start then, huddled on the floor between the toilet and the sink. I lie there, letting the grief and pain, the shock and devastation run through me. My heart crumbles in a thousand pieces and painful sobs break from my chest. Curling up on the cold floor, I try and imagine his face the way it was, but even now the vision of him in my mind is fading. All that is left of him is bloody and dark.
24 – Rain
It's Jack who finds me, pulling me off the bathroom floor and cradling me in his arms. Rocking me gently back and forth, he hums softly. We both know my soul can't find peace so easily, but I cling to him, not as my savior but as a way to dull the pain. I bury my face into his shirt. The soft cotton smells of soap and sunshine, of fresh air and freedom. He is here to save me, but I don't want to be saved. I want to disappear, to just fade into nothing. How am I supposed to go back there? How am I supposed to try and live in that house without Travis?
Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, Jack uses water from the tap to wash away the tears, dirt, and blood from my hands and face. The white cloth turns pink as he runs it along my skin, and I cringe at the sight of it. I don't even protest when he kisses the top of my head, too far gone in shock to care. I wore the blood of my friend, how can anything else ever matter? I only wish the feel of his lips could drown the memories that plague me; Travis's beautiful face, the laughter in his voice, his lifeless eyes, and the white rose.
Without a word, Jack picks me up off the floor and carries me outside. He slowly picks his way through the crowd, heading for the gate. The main road is still full of hysterical people, weeping over their lost son, terrified that something like this could happen in their city. They surround our carriage, pushing and shoving in a desperate attempt to reach it. They need to see it for themselves. To see the blood with their own eyes, proof that their illusion of safety has been shattered.
I cry out when we pass the carriage, closing my eyes tight against the sight of it.
"He isn't there," Jack whispers. "The soldiers have already taken his body away."
"Why did they just leave the carriage there? Where are the soldiers?"
"The man who shot Travis made it to the woods behind the Big House. They are searching for him there."
"Where is Grayson?"
"I have no idea. Probably looking for you. I only knew where you were because I was watching. I wasn't close enough to help you, but I saw where the driver took you and got to you as fast as I could."
We make it to the gate, which has been deserted in the chaos. Jack sets me on my feet when we arrive, looking in the windows of the gatehouse.
"Jack, I can't go with you."
"Even after this?" he says, spinning around stunned. "Even after this, you refuse to let me protect you?"
"I haven't even had time to process this!" I cry. "My heart hurts and I'm confused. Someone I love has been ripped from my life, and there isn't anything I can do to make it better. Part of me wants nothing more than to find a new life across the wall, to leave all of this pain behind. That part would go with you, but the other part knows there are people up there that need me. I don't care how dangerous it is, I can't leave them."
"I'm glad to hear it," the General says, stepping out from behind the gatehouse. "I thought for a minute there we would have to arrest you too."
"Sir, this isn't what it looks like," I cry frightened. "This is . . ."
"Jack," he interrupts. "I know."
"How?" I ask, stunned.
"There isn't a single thing that goes on in my city that I don't know about. We have allowed this boy to visit you time and again, hoping he would lead us to the rest of the rebels. If I had only known it would cost me my son . . ."
"You can't believe Jack killed Travis," I say shocked. "Jack, tell him you didn't kill Travis. Tell him!"
"Of course I didn't. All I have ever wanted to do was keep you safe. How would killing him keep you safe?"
"See!" I say, grabbing the front of the General's shirt. "He says he didn't do it. You don't have to arrest him."
"That's where you are wrong, sweetheart," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder protectively. "Whether he killed my son or not, and we will get to the truth of that soon enough, he still broke the law by coming into the city."
"Please don't hurt him," I plead. "I know he has done some bad things, but I don't think he is a bad person. I can't bear the thought of anyone else being hurt because
of me. I know it doesn't make sense but I care about him."
"You have a big heart, Katherine," the General says, "Don't let that get you in trouble."
"No," Jack says taking the hint. "There won't be any trouble. I will go with you. Don't worry Kat, things will all be sorted out before you know it, you'll see."
The guards escort Jack away as the General helps me into a carriage waiting for us on the main road. The General sits next to me in the carriage. Away from the eyes of his people, his tough façade fades away as he holds me close, lending me his shoulder to cry on.
"I never thought I would have to outlive my children," he says sadly. "I thought losing their mother was the hardest thing I would ever have to go through, and all it did was teach my heart how to grieve, to prepare me for this, the loss of my child."
"Why would anyone kill Travis?"
"I don't think it was Travis they meant kill."
"Grayson was the target." I say, choking back my tears. "Someone found out Grayson was planning to tell me, and wanted to stop him before he could. Why would anyone commit murder just to ensure my marriage? Surely my brother wasn't behind this?"
"I hope not," the general says, shaking his head. "We know it has to be someone from outside the city. Anyone else would have known it was Travis in the carriage instead of Grayson. I could have been rebels, but I just don't see what they would have to gain."
"This is my fault," I say in tears. "I have brought nothing but pain and death on this house."
"We all had a hand in this," the General says, sadly, "but you have done nothing wrong. You shouldn't have been meeting with that boy behind my back, but allowing it to continue still comes back on me."
"Jack didn't do this," I plead. "I know he didn't."
"We will see soon enough, my dear."
We finish our ride in silence, each wallowing in our own despair. When we reach the big house he helps me down, wrapping me up in a fierce hug. Without a word, he walks away in the direction of the stables, taking the curving sidewalk around the big house. I picture him visiting a certain haunted section of the sidewalk, his big frame lying against the cool concrete, his head lying where hers had fallen.
I glide through the big house to my room, thankfully unseen. The house is a tomb, quiet and empty, my footsteps echoing through the massive halls. The mirrors have all been draped and the clocks stopped, immortalizing the moment his heart quieted. The moment ours broke.
The fire is out and the drapes drawn as I walk into my room. The door next to my bed, the one that is supposed to remain locked until the wedding, is wide open. I find Grayson inside, slumped on the floor surrounded by broken glass; a bottle of amber liquid in his hand. I sit next to him, taking his free hand into mine. His grief is a tangible thing, a sharp cold blade between us. I find myself unable to console him, too broken myself to know how.
"It's my fault," he says finally.
"No, it's mine."
"I should have been in that carriage."
"And I am the reason you were supposed to be, and the reason he was. This all comes back to me. You, Travis, Alana . . . everything bad that has happened to this family in the last year has been tied to me. I won't let you take the blame for this, because it's mine. I already own it. Just as surely as I own my name, or this broken heart, I own his death."
"I don't know how to get past this, Kat."
"I am not sure that we can."
We spend the night on the floor, watching our reflections in the glass, trying desperately to find a connection with the haggard people inside. They stare back at us, worn and weary as we huddle together. Another nightmare spent sheltered in his arms.
We wake to the sound of shovels breaking earth as it floats through the open window. Down below, men are digging a hole as wide and deep as the one in our hearts. They will lay our golden boy to rest next to his mother in the garden. Young deaths are so rare that there are no cemeteries inside the city, as its citizens almost never come in contact with the passing of loved ones.
Grayson rolls over on the hard floor and looks at me sadly, before slipping away. He never even asked if Travis talked to me. Tired and sore, I drag myself into my own rooms, hoping my maids can help me pull it together just long enough to endure what comes next.
The sky weeps as we lower Travis into the ground. Staring at the wooden box, I will it open, longing for him to jump out laughing at his clever prank. Pushing aside the juvenile thought, I remind myself he is never coming back. Sweet, kindhearted Travis lies in that box, cold and alone. My chest aches with the knowledge that his smile, his laugh, and all the little things that joined together to make him who he was have been drained away. All that is left is a bruised shell waiting to be buried and forgotten.
The tears of his family mix with the rain as the earth begins to fall on his casket, the men working their shovels to the sound of anguished cries. Mother and son, side by side in death, their matching stones are a permanent reminder of what has been lost.
Laura, Grayson, and I stand hand in hand, watching the dirt as it falls. With every shovelful, the world seems to dim just a little more. The shadows grow, filling our lives, and I am afraid they will haunt our steps forever. Overcome by his grief, Grayson rips his hand from mine and stumbles off blindly in the rain. I run after him, clinging to the back of his coat in an effort to slow him down. He tries to pull away from me and I pull back hard, forcing him to turn around and face me.
Placing my hands on the sides of his face, I pull it to mine. Eye to eye, he is forced to look back at me. He tries to shrug me off, the guilt of loving me too hard to stand. I know what he is feeling because I feel it too. If Grayson had just stayed far away from me, Travis would still be alive.
"Look at me." I plead. "I'm still here, whether it was our fault or not, we can't change what happened. We can't go back. We have to find a way to keep going. Grayson, look at me!"
"I am looking at you!" he cries.
"No!" I say. "Don't just look, see. Forget everything else and just look at me. I am hurting too. Don't run away. Let me help you carry this weight."
The rain pours down harder, soaking through my dress. Grayson pulls me close, touching his forehead to mine for a single moment before letting me go and walking away.
I stand in the rain and watch him go.
25 – Blood
After the funeral, I'm abandoned in my suite, for my own protection of course. With no other distractions, I fall into a deep, self-loathing depression. Unable to face my guilt over Travis' death, I shun the world and it seems perfectly content not to find me. I crave being alone, yet my isolation deepens my foul mood. Even my maids avoid me, and I haven't seen Grayson in days. As far as I know, he walked away from the funeral and hasn't returned. Through my window, and the gossip of whispering maids, I watch the city mourn. Like all things, their grief moves in waves.
Naturally, the first stage is shock and disbelief. The people refusing to accept that something like this could happen in their own city, their sanctuary. They had gladly traded their freedom for the promised safety of these walls. Now that the illusion of protection has been shattered, their minds are blown, forcing them to think for themselves for the first time in generations. Their trust has been betrayed, and they have to create a new way of thinking.
After shock comes sadness, a great collective outpouring of heartbreak. One of their own has been brutally taken from them, carved out of their world with the jagged knife of rebellion. That's what the attack on Travis has been labeled after all, rebellion. The great minds in the Big House tried to spin this to their advantage, to highlight the dangers beyond our walls, but all they did was release the idea of revolution and it spread like a disease, subtly infecting anyone and everyone it touched.
The city's pain manifests into candle light vigils, memorial parades, and great outpourings of love for their stolen son. In a show of devotion, the women don black veils and the men armbands. For the first time, the city looks united. They face
this tragedy as one, bound by the kinship of loss. Days go by, and as they often do, the people's hearts change. The candles burn down, the vigils stop, and the cities' grief turns to anger, and as it always does, the Big House starts to make sense to them again.
How dare someone breach their walls and take a life? It could have been anyone taken that day. Rumors run rampant through the streets. Rebels. It has to be the fault of these rebels, these beasts of men, a great evil plaguing the outside world with their murderous inclinations. It was just like the Big House always said they were. Why else would they target such a kind, caring young man? What wrong could he have done in his short life? This was a message sent by the rebels, an undeniable cry for war. This act was meant to hurt the people of Veracity and now they require retribution, they demand blood.
Their world is changing, shifting on its axis. Their utopia has been has been shattered, their gilded cage bent and broken. They are furious and disillusioned and someone has to pay. Surely it was no coincidence that this outsider, this boy who tried to steal their little princess, was found the same day Travis was killed. In the mind of the citizens, there is no need for a trial; no need for proof. They are broken and that requires payment. Jack's blood will be their atonement.
Confined to my suite, I watch from my window as the tide turns. I'm not a prisoner, just a prize to be hidden away and protected. As much as I hate it, I don't blame the city for its demands; Jack does look guilty. He willfully broke the law and placed himself in a position to be blamed. What do I know anyway? Maybe he is guilty. They would have scanned him by now and found the truth of it. My only concern is if the General was able to lie to me to serve his own purpose, could he lie to his entire city?
Deep down I want to care enough to save Jack, but my heart is too black and too heavy to rise back to the surface. So full of pain, I feel it sinking further down in my chest every day. Maggie and Sadie tried hard at first to bring me back, but now even they have given up. I don't blame them. I am not very good company these days.
Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) Page 20