Revolution (Cartharia Book 2)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  "What's wrong?" Lynelli asked. She'd noticed the stony look that had come over Matilyn's face. "Mattie?"

  "It's Matilyn," Matilyn said, feeling her anger unfairly rise. Lynelli couldn't have known about Matilyn's childhood nickname, the one Penny had used. The one Eldrin had used. Still, she couldn't stand hearing it, not now.

  "Sorry," Lynelli said, letting her hand drop from Matilyn's shoulder where it had been resting. She looked confused, and a little hurt. Matilyn felt ashamed of herself.

  "We're leaving soon," she finally said, "Samuel and I. We're going back to Lamonte as soon as the wedding is over. That'll be in four days."

  "Four days?" Lynelli repeated. "Gods, I don't have much time to get ready, do I?"

  "Lynelli, you can't go," Matilyn said. "I'm sorry but you can't. You're not ready for the war, and I won't have the time to teach you."

  Matilyn met her eyes, and saw that Lynelli's were filling with tears. Suddenly, she hated the fact that she'd gotten caught up with the other woman. Samuel was right; she was too young, too naive.

  "But Matilyn," she said, "I thought that you and I... I thought you... cared for me."

  "I have to go," Matilyn said. She stood quickly, grabbing her clothes. She didn't look at Lynelli while she dressed.

  "Don't you?" Lynelli asked. Her voice had started to become shrill.

  Matilyn ignored her, yanking her shirt on, and then tying back her hair into a ponytail. Without looking at Lynelli, she hurried from the chambers. She didn't know where she was going, she just had to get away.

  In the end, she wound up in one of the gardens just outside the castle. She lowered herself onto a bench and for the first time in a long time, she felt tears stinging her eyes. She cursed herself for her weakness.

  For the first time since she'd joined Sullivan, she wondered about her place with his men. What if he was wrong?

  "Malevus?"

  Matilyn looked up quickly, trying to ebb the flow of tears on her face. She saw Samuel staring at her. "What are you doing out here?"

  "I saw you," Samuel said, "I saw you heading out here. I came to make sure you were -- well, I came to check on you. What's happened? Is it that girl?"

  The last thing Matilyn wanted was to talk to Samuel about Lynelli. She shook her head. "No. I was just thinking about Arinford."

  Samuel lifted a brow.

  "I try not to," Matilyn said, "It feels wrong, somehow, to miss it. I shouldn't, not when I'm fighting for Lamonte. I shouldn't miss it."

  "Of course you miss it," Samuel said, "You grew up there. That's where your family is. Your friends. Your lovers."

  Matilyn said nothing.

  Samuel looked awkward as he took a step closer to her, "You wouldn't be a very good person if you didn't miss it," he finally said, "If you could just forget everyone you knew, and never think about them, gods, that would be so cold. You're not a cold woman, Malevus."

  "Well thank you," Matilyn said, a bit dryly.

  Samuel flushed, "I mean that," he said, "Gods, this feels wrong, talking to you like you're one of us, but that's what you are, Malevus. You're one of us now. One of Lamonte's finest. You don't have to doubt yourself just because you miss someone at home."

  Matilyn forced a smile in place. "Thank you," she said, a bit more sincerely this time.

  Samuel nodded, "We'll be going back soon," he said, taking a seat beside her, "Then we'll go to Arinford, and we'll end this war. I'm looking forward to that, you know. The war being over. I may act like I enjoy being in the field, but what I really want is to be home with my family."

  Matilyn gazed at Samuel. She wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be that he was telling her this. They'd somehow achieved their own form of friendship since they'd left for Terifille.

  "You'll meet them someday," Samuel said, "My little girl will like you."

  When she didn't speak, Samuel drifted into silence. But he did reach over and take her hand. They sat like that for a while, both of them staring up at the moons, both of them thinking about the people they missed, and about the time they couldn't get back.

  The next three days passed quickly. Both Matilyn and Samuel kept busy, playing their parts in the customs and rituals of Terifille. From sunrise to sunset, their company was kept by Catherine, Oliver Sanders, the King, and all the others who were part of the activities.

  Since Lee Sanders had decreed that a week's long activities be completed in a single day, Matilyn had no time to dwell on Lynelli, Penny, or her sudden doubts about King Sullivan. They had too much to do.

  The first day was fairly enjoyable; they spent their time in the city, handing out coins and food to the poor. This was something Matilyn had done since she'd first started training as a Priest in Valishna.

  The city surprised her, though. It was large, larger than Valishna perhaps, but it had a certain mystique that was difficult to ignore. Like the jungle that surrounded it, the city was a beautiful portrait of green. Nature was clearly important to the people of Terifille: wherever Matilyn looked, there were trees, and bushes, and flowers, and grass. The roads were well-maintained but made of a soft sand rather than cold stone.

  The city was welcoming, and warm. It was a place that Matilyn could easily imagine herself living in someday. Perhaps when the war was complete.

  Catherine outdid herself with grace and warmth when dealing with the common people. Several times, Matilyn caught herself staring at the young princess, wondering what she was playing at. Eventually, she forced herself to stop worrying and merely enjoyed the time they were spending within the city.

  Even Samuel seemed to relax after a while, and he handled the citizens of Terifille with far more ease than Matilyn would have expected. She saw him in a rare state; quick to smile, with an easy laugh, and a gentle touch.

  The second day was very different. As Catherine had no family in Terifille with her, Matilyn and Samuel were forced to stand in as an interim family. They spent the day alone with Catherine.

  She continued her act, even when it was just the three of them, but Matilyn was not fooled. On occasion, she saw something flash across the princess's face, and she remembered how Catherine had asked her if she really believed that she would marry the prince.

  Servants brought them far more food than they could eat throughout the day, and so they spent the afternoon in a state of lethargy from overindulgence. Catherine thanked them multiple times for their service.

  She also told them stories from when she was a child, humorous tales of her own adventures, and insights into the world she'd shared with her father. She even spoke of her mother a time or two, and this was the only time that Matilyn felt her heart go out to the girl.

  Just like Matilyn, Catherine had lost her mother at a young age. She remembered her as more of an idea than a person. She retold stories that she'd only heard, and spoke of her mother as one would a saint.

  The third day was spent in the company of the Gods. Terifille had no Chapels, only sanctuaries, but for Matilyn, they were the same thing. She was pleasantly surprised to learn that Terifille also worshipped the Old Gods, just like Arinford.

  A day of serenity was just what Matilyn needed. She prayed for guidance, and wisdom. She wanted to know if she was right in her faith in Sullivan. She didn't get a direct answer, but a deep calm filled her, and she was able to think clearly for the first time since leaving Lynelli's bed.

  She recognized her failure of faith as exactly what it was. She missed her friends, and her old life. While in Sullivan's castle, she was able to put those feelings aside for the most part, and focus on the Good King's work. While here in Terifille, Sullivan wasn't able to provide the insight she so desperately needed.

  But she wasn't going to fail him. That's what she decided while praying alongside of Samuel, and Catherine. She wouldn't fail Sullivan. Even when her faith wavered, she would remain strong. He deserved that. He'd opened her eyes, after all.

  When they'd finished their day of praying, everyone met in th
e dining hall of the castle for a late dinner.

  Catherine and Oliver sat together, whispering the secrets of youth back and forth to each other with hushed voices and sly eyes.

  Matilyn sat next to Samuel, across from Lee Sanders.

  "Tomorrow is the ceremony," Lee said, "I don't suppose either of you are familiar with the vows spoken by the people of Terifille?"

  "I've been doing some reading," Samuel admitted. "But I would hardly call myself an expert, Your Majesty."

  Matilyn felt her face flush. She hadn't even given consideration to the ceremony itself. She realized she had no idea what to expect.

  "No," she said in a small voice, "I'm unfamiliar with the proceedings."

  Lee smiled, "That's alright. The two of you will learn tomorrow when you stand as witnesses to Catherine. Just after the noon hour we will hold the wedding. That will give everyone ample time to prepare."

  His eyes slid down to Catherine, "She has brought her mother's dress?"

  "Yes," Matilyn said, relieved to know at least that much of the foreign tradition, "It is customary for the bride to wear the garments of her mother, is it not?"

  Lee nodded. "It is," he said, "It is a way of paying respect to the woman who brought you life."

  "And what of the groom?" Samuel asked, a small smile playing on his lips, "I don't imagine they'd honor their mother by wearing her garments?"

  Lee laughed, "No," he agreed, "Our weddings are not usually so comical, I should think. They wear a necklace, tucked beneath their attire, handed down from mother to son."

  "We have a tradition in Lamonte," Samuel said, "where the mother and father of the bride present a wedding goblet to the groom, and the parents of the groom offer the ceremonial ribbons to the bride."

  Lee bowed his head, "A worthy tradition," he said. He looked over at Matilyn, "Does Arinford have any similar proceedings?"

  "None quite like that," Matilyn said, "Instead, it is traditional of the mother and father of both parties to accompany the bride and groom into an inner circle where they are then left with the attending Priest. Do you have Priests in Terifille?"

  "Not quite like those in Arinford," Lee said, "Your priests are quite unique. No, we do have ministers, however, that speak on our behalf to the Gods."

  "When the Good King's work is done," Samuel said, "all kingdoms will share their traditions. We shall be a worldly melting pot, formed from all the best aspects of each culture. We shall share our priests and ministers and customs."

  "So we shall," Lee said. "I must admit, I was wary when King Sullivan first brought the idea of an alliance to me. I am pleased that the Gods were able to open my eyes to the truth of what he was doing and convince me to play my part."

  "If only all kingdoms shared your wisdom," Matilyn said, "We would have a lot less death on our hands."

  Lee nodded, "Perhaps Arinford will still come around. The Parnell family has long been respected for their just and fair ways. Surely they must at least consider the idea of an alliance?"

  Samuel shook his head, "If truth be told, they were never offered the opportunity. The Good King acted without word. It was a terrible deed, to be sure, but a necessary one. He knew from the start that Arinford would not so easily fold into his ideals. The Parnell's may be just and fair, but they are not known for their willingness to align themselves with others."

  "Yet they have," Lee said, "The Princess of Arinford will marry the Prince of Fairenthe soon, will she not?"

  Matilyn leaned forward, surprised, "Will she? I hadn't heard such rumors."

  Lee nodded, "She will," he said, "They talk as though it is a marriage between the two kingdoms. If the boy is dead, the princess will become the crown someday."

  Matilyn and Samuel exchanged a glance. Neither of them knew about Will's escape.

  "Do you believe the Good King will have the boy executed?" Lee asked.

  "It is not for us to say," Samuel said. "Certainly you understand that even if we were privy to such information, we could hardly speak of it over dinner? Such decisions would be the highest priority of military secretism."

  Lee blinked. Then he smiled, "Of course," he said, "My apologies. I never intended for either of you to be put on the spot. Forgive me."

  "There is nothing to forgive," Samuel said with a light smile. Matilyn nodded her agreement and took a sip from the wine in front of her. "Nothing at all," she added.

  Lee nodded at both of them and then said, "I suppose we should be getting to bed. Tomorrow will be a busy day."

  Matilyn nodded, glancing down at Catherine. She was whispering something in Oliver's ear. The boy grinned and then laughed. Catherine put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes glittering in the candlelight.

  "Princess Catherine," she said. When Catherine looked over at her, Matilyn smiled. "As loath as I am to interrupt what I'm sure is a very important conversation, the king has declared an end to tonight's frivolity. It is time for us to head back to our chambers to prepare for tomorrow."

  "As you wish," Catherine said. She leaned over to kiss Oliver's cheek and then rose to her feet, smoothing her gown as she did. "Thank you again for the wonderful meal," she said to Lee. "I look forward to many more within your home."

  "My home is your home, dear," Lee said, "Soon you will be a member of the Terifille court, after all."

  Catherine smiled even more widely, "I cannot wait," she said, "My heart is filled with joy over being accepted so lovingly into your family."

  Samuel gave a small shake of his head and then rose to his feet, "Come," he said to Catherine, "I will escort you to your chambers."

  Catherine joined Samuel and Matilyn, and together, the three left the room. They walked in silence to Catherine's chambers, and then split off, each of them heading to their own rooms.

  Matilyn felt a wave of relief sweep over her as she began to ready herself for sleep. Soon the entire ordeal would be over and she'd be back where she belonged.

  After being left alone for the evening, Catherine let out a sigh of relief. She no longer had to play the part of dutiful daughter, fawning over the imbeciles that ran the Terifille court.

  She didn't know how she'd made it through the last three days. The thought that it had almost been weeks had nauseated her. She didn't want to waste her time with the poor. Not when there were other things to do.

  Spending time with Matilyn and Samuel hadn't been so bad, but still she'd been forced to act a part that she didn't feel. She couldn't let on that she had no plans to fall neatly into place. They were already suspicious of her.

  Catherine wanted them for her Left Hand. After seeing them together, she realized what a formidable pair they made. While Matilyn and Samuel hadn't gotten along at first, they'd soon formed an easy alliance.

  She didn't know if she could have them though, and that bothered her. Both of them were annoyingly loyal to her father and his visions. Perhaps she could convince them that she shared his vision...

  Catherine followed this line of thought for a little while, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling. When she was bored with the subject of Matilyn and Samuel, her mind turned to her betrothed.

  Oliver.

  He was a poor comparison to Will, she knew that. She also knew she wasn't meant to be with him. That didn't mean she couldn't use him. She already had half-formed ideas on how to manipulate the boy to her advantage.

  This thought brought a smile to her lips. Oliver wasn't bad looking, even if he didn't have his father's strong features and easy stance. She could make him more confident, too, she was sure of that. Every man grew more confident after they'd had the legs of a pretty woman wrapped around them.

  He'd fallen for her already. Catherine had seen to that. In fact, the entire kingdom was falling for her. She was pretty, vivacious, and sweet. It was hard not to love her.

  She wondered what they made of the rumors that had come from Lamonte of her cruel nature and malicious deeds. Did they believe them exaggerated? Fabricated? Perhaps they consi
dered them to be spawned from those she'd spurned, or those who were unable to win her favor.

  Catherine toyed briefly with the idea of seducing the prince's father. In the end, she decided not to. It wasn't that she couldn't -- the man was alone, after all, and lonely men were known to do drastic things -- she simply didn't believe it necessary. If she had her way, the man would soon be out of the picture entirely.

  Eventually, Catherine changed into her night clothing, and climbed into bed. She left her oil lamp on, not yet ready to sleep. Instead she focused on the fire of the wick, making it grow and shrink.

  She'd been careful about practicing her manipulation in Terifille. She didn't want anyone to know how much ability she possessed. Catherine had been briefly worried when Matilyn had walked in on her practicing fire manipulation, but she thought she'd handled it well enough.

  Catherine missed the ability to practice when she wanted. She missed her Left Hand, too. Not the members themselves -- sometimes, she could hardly recall their names or faces. The group though, it represented her power, and Catherine hated having that power stripped from her.

  She already had plans of recruiting in Terifille in the close future. She thought she'd seen some men and women unhappy in their positions. Unhappy people were much more willing to prove disloyal to their current employer.

  The sound of someone at her door startled Catherine. She didn't know what hour it was, but it was definitely late. She glanced at it for a moment, but didn't respond to the soft call of, "Princess?"

  Instead, she leaned over, blowing at her lamp. Then she clasped her hands atop her abdomen, feigning sleep. She took slow, measured breaths, relaxing.

  There was only silence for a time. Then the call came again, low, "Princess?"

  When she still didn't respond, the visitor tried the door. They found it locked, of course. Minutes ticked by, and then the door rattled again. This time, there was the undeniable sound of a key in the lock.

  The door opened. The visitor slipped inside. Catherine couldn't see who it was, not in the dark. Her eyes were closed anyway. She believed an act should be complete, after all. She didn't want to risk the visitor seeing the whites of her eyes in the dark room.