Revolution (Cartharia Book 2)

by Spencer Reaves McCoy

  Craig looked torn for a moment. "You wouldn't understand."

  "You're right," Penny said, "I wouldn't. But try and explain anyway. I can't keep doing this back and forth thing with you."

  Craig was silent for a few minutes before speaking. His voice was distant and far away. "You came back. You left Valishna, and then you came back here. I don't understand why."

  Penny remembered him saying that when they first met. "You think you know me," she said, "You act like I'm this malicious, selfish person that threw away a grand life to come back and live it up with the soldiers. That's not what happened."

  "Then what happened?" Craig asked.

  "I wanted to help," Penny said, "I thought I could. I'd lost a lot, everything really, and I thought... well, at least I have my city. The city where I grew up. The city where I fell in love. I thought about the people here and I wanted to help them."

  Craig's expression softened a little bit, "I'm sorry," he said again. "I knew that. I knew you wanted to help. It's just difficult, being back here. That's not your fault, and it's hardly any excuse, but it's all I've got."

  Penny wanted to stay angry with him, but she caught the way his eyes slanted away when he spoke. He was hurting too. This gave her pause. She reached out to touch his arm, "How'd you know I'd be here?"

  Craig ignored her.

  "I just wish I knew why it bothered you so much," Penny said, "me coming back, me being here. The things I do, my marriage, all of it. I wish I knew why it mattered."

  She waited for some kind of reaction. Jealousy, perhaps. If he was jealous, that would explain a lot. But he simply looked at her, and there was nothing in his eyes that suggested he cared for her.

  Penny decided to push the issue anyway, "Craig, I know the idea of me being with someone else upset you. If you care about me, in... that way. I need to know. I don't want things to get awkward since we're working together."

  "Penny," Craig said in a tight voice, "I need to talk to you."

  "Isn't that what we're doing?" Penny said, nonplussed.

  "There's something I need to tell you," Craig clarified, "I've been trying to find the right way, or wait for the right time, and it's just... it's hard. It's going to be hard."

  Penny frowned. Suddenly, she felt out of her element. She didn't want to have this conversation anymore. Whatever his secret was, she didn't want to know. "Craig, we don't have to do this."

  Craig shook his head, "I need to," he told her. "I just have to find the right words."

  For a time, he said nothing. A few times, it looked as though he might speak, but then he went silent again, brooding. Penny began to think he wasn't going to talk at all. She thought about pushing him, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

  "Okay," he finally said, "Look, I'm not proud of what I'm about to tell you. I'll understand if you don't want to speak with me after, alright?"

  "Alright," Penny said.

  "I was in the Guard," Craig said, "but I ran away."

  Penny said nothing, merely listening. It was something she was good at. As a priest, she'd taken plenty of confessions.

  Craig closed his eyes and then reached out for her hand, "Penny, it's me."

  "What?" Penny said.

  "It's me," Craig repeated, "It's Eldrin."

  Eldrin waited for some kind of reaction. When the reaction came in the form of a stinging slap across his face, he was caught off-guard. For the first time in a long time, he'd been taken by surprise. That scared him.

  "Penny," he said.

  "No," Penny said, "No, don't say anything. I don't care what kind of sick game you're playing, but I don't want to be part of it. Not anymore."

  "It's not a game," Eldrin said. "It's me."

  Before she could say anything more, he began the painful art of face manipulation. He'd learned it with the special ops group he'd briefly been part of. It hurt terribly but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as the expression he'd seen on Penny's face right before he started.

  It felt like he was dying. He'd gone through the facial reconstruction more times than he could count, but each time felt like the first. He remembered when he hadn't been able to do it by himself. Five had to help him.

  Eldrin no longer needed the help but sometimes he wished for it anyway. It had become the normal, in some fucked up kind of way, and he missed that. He missed Five, even though they'd never gotten along, and he missed the others too.

  He heard Penny gasp in surprise when his bones and muscles and flesh and every other part of his face began to twist, reforming.

  He hadn't used his own face in so long that he thought it would be difficult to remember but it felt like going home. Everything fell into place as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  He supposed it was.

  When he'd finished and opened his eyes, he saw that the color had drained from Penny's face.

  "I don't understand," she said.

  Eldrin shook his head, "I know what you must have thought," he said, "What everyone must have thought."

  "How are you alive?" Penny asked, "I saw your name on a list of the dead, written by Matilyn herself. How are you alive?"

  "They thought I'd been burnt to death," Eldrin said, "That's the only explanation I can come up with. I left my jacket with this soldier during an attack and I ran. There were fire manipulators there that were destroying corpses. His must have been one of them. When they found the body and my jacket, they must have assumed."

  "But they assumed wrong," Penny said.

  Eldrin nodded. In slow, halting sentences he began to explain how he'd freaked out, and ran away. Penny sat silently through this story, listening to the intimate details of his descent into cowardliness.

  "I'm not proud," he told her again.

  "You shouldn't be," Penny said. "I can't believe this. Why didn't you go back?"

  "I couldn't," Eldrin said, "Lamonte soldiers found me. They beat me, till I nearly was dead. I couldn't walk. I couldn't move."

  Penny stared at him.

  "Then this woman found me," Eldrin said, "This amazing woman, who saved my life. She nursed me back to health and then she took me to this group of people. They were soldiers, but not the usual kind. They were elite men and women, chosen for their dedication to stopping Sullivan. They could do things I'd never even dreamt about."

  "When you were better, why didn't you leave?" Penny asked.

  "I couldn't," Eldrin said again. He felt like such a fool. He didn't know how to explain it to Penny. The way they'd kept him there, told him he could stay or die. He couldn't explain what it meant to be part of something, either.

  They'd made him one of their own. They'd taken him in and they'd given him purpose. That meant so much more than he could put into words.

  He stared up at the ceiling.

  "I don't understand," Penny finally said, "You left this group at some point and you came back. Why didn't you tell people you were alive? Your family?"

  "I don't know," Eldrin said, "I really don't. I thought about it hundreds of times. I thought about seeing my sisters and my parents, and of course, I thought about seeing you. But every time I thought about coming clean, I thought about this exact moment. Trying to explain what I did. Seeing the disappointment in everyone's eyes."

  "I'm disappointed that you lied to me," Penny said. "For months, you've been lying."

  "I know," Eldrin said, "Gods, Penny, I wanted to tell you. I did. But how? How could I explain myself?"

  Penny shook her head, "You made me believe you hated me."

  Eldrin felt a wave of shame wash over him. He'd been so angry at Penny for coming back that he hadn't stopped to consider her reasons why. He'd just made stupid assumptions and... "I'm sorry," he said.

  "Sorry isn't good enough," Penny told him, "I need to know why."

  "I kept imagining how Matilyn must have felt," Eldrin said, "when you got married. I couldn't know, of course, but I kept seeing her face. You must have broken her heart."

 
Penny's face filled with color. "I didn't have a choice," she said, "They were going to force me to marry a soldier. I didn't know it would be like that when I returned. I thought I could just pick up where Father Ashbury left off. I thought nothing would have changed. I didn't know."

  "Neither did I," Eldrin said.

  "Why'd you come back?" Penny asked.

  Eldrin shrugged a shoulder, "A lot less noble reasons than you," he admitted, "I didn't have anywhere else to go. I couldn't face going to Westwood and seeing my family."

  "They deserve to know you're alive," Penny said.

  "Do they?" Eldrin asked, "In their minds, I died a hero. I was a soldier, fighting for a good cause. Do you really think it would be better for them to know the truth? That I ran away? That I was a coward?"

  "Yes," Penny said forcefully, "Of course it would. They'd be happy you're alive, Eldrin."

  Eldrin swallowed and asked, "Are you?"

  Penny blinked. "What? Of course I'm glad you're alive. I'm angry at you. You shouldn't have run away. You shouldn't have lied. Especially to me. How long were we friends? But I'm glad you're not dead."

  Despite himself, Eldrin felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over him, "That," he said, "is all that matters."

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Thou Comest in Such a Questionable State

  MATILYN SAT ACROSS FROM RA'SHA SWIN, HER hands clasped on the desk between them. "You are an important woman," she said.

  Ra'sha, a woman near her age with long dark hair that added dimension to her rich, olive skin color, offered a small smile in return for the comment, "Not quite as important as one would have you believe, Commander."

  "You are the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Terifille," Matilyn said, "That counts for something. You were considered for a betrothal with Prince Oliver after all."

  "I never had any wish to marry the boy," Ra'sha said, "He's younger than I am, and even younger in the ways that count. He's naive."

  Matilyn frowned, "Perhaps," she agreed, "but surely you looked forward to the idea of being queen of Terifille someday. That's a prestigious role and one that many people would do much to acquire."

  Ra'sha shook her head, "I no more wished to be queen than I did to be the wife of the prince," she said. "Many people believe that ruling is something that anyone of sound mind would wish to do, but it is not true. I am not the sort that hunts down power. I have enough of that, as you said, with my place as my father's daughter."

  "You're telling me that you never once dreamt of what it would be like to rule," Matilyn said.

  "Certainly I thought of it," Ra'sha said, "and when I did, I imagined all of the political nonsense that I'd have to deal with. It didn't sound like an enjoyable way to spend my time."

  This was the third interview Matilyn had conducted with Ra'sha, and so far her story hadn't changed. They'd been over the same questions time and again, and yet the other woman had never once wavered on her claims of having no interest in the Terifille crown.

  Matilyn resisted the urge to sigh and then decided it might be time to change directions a little. "And what ways do you enjoy spending your time?" she asked.

  Ra'sha smiled again, "I am a scholar, Commander. I enjoy spending my time studying. I find it quite refreshing."

  "What is that you study?" Matilyn asked.

  "Is this relevant?" Ra'sha asked. "I understand your obligation to venture down any path that might end in the incarceration of the person who attacked Princess Catherine, but surely my personal activities will have no bearing on this investigation."

  Matilyn considered for a moment. The truth was, she didn't believe that Ra'sha or any of the Swin family had anything to do with the attack on Catherine. She and Samuel were desperate for answers though.

  "Call it curiosity," she said, "I like to have an understanding of the people I'm working with."

  Ra'sha made a point out of sighing, "As you wish," she said, "Though I do wonder how often you're going to request an interrogation. I have a life to lead, and it does not include being accused of treason."

  This time, there was a bite to her voice. Matilyn took note of it. The woman was becoming angry at the suspicion thrown her way.

  "I'm working to solve a heinous crime," Matilyn said, "Surely you can understand my need to follow up on any possibility no matter how slim."

  Ra'sha folded her arms across her chest, "I enjoy the study of chess," she said, "and of languages. I speak five fluently, and I'm learning a sixth. Nature intrigues me as well. As does aesthetics. The two are intricately related after all."

  "Aesthetics and nature?" Matilyn said dubiously.

  "Of course," Ra'sha said, "Have you never noticed how all people, no matter where they're born, work to mimic the way nature forms naturally?"

  "I can't say that I have," Matilyn admitted.

  Ra'sha shook her head, "They do, though. It's quite fascinating, really. Have you ever considered what is that makes a woman want to lay with a man?"

  Matilyn frowned, "Biology," she said, "It's natural for a woman to want to find a man who will give her strong children. Just as it's natural for a man to seek someone who he believes will take care of his kids."

  "Exactly," Ra'sha said, "and there are ways that we seek those qualities out subconsciously. For example, symmetry. If something is too unbalanced, it doesn't look right. You assume there's something wrong with it, maybe an illness. However, if something is too symmetrical, you'll find that people shy away from it. They believe it's some sort of trap created by man. That's how nature works."

  Matilyn shrugged. "I suppose."

  "When I studied art, I learned that you never balance things perfectly. You don't want to draw a tree with three leaves on each side. Too symmetrical. Yet, you don't want to draw it with five and two, that looks ill. You settle for something in the middle: three leaves on one side, two on another."

  Matilyn thought about the art pieces she'd seen in her life. She'd never been a connoisseur of the arts, of course, but she'd seen enough in passing -- in Penny's home, for example, not to mention the Chapel -- that she knew what Ra'sha was saying was true. She nodded.

  "There are a thousand other examples of how man attempts to mimic nature to make things aesthetically pleasing using complex mathematical formulas to dictate everything from angles and slopes to the right blend of colors to use to make things seem healthier and fresher," Ra'sha said, "I could go on for hours. It's quite fascinating. Certainly offers some interesting theories on the psychology of man."

  "So you're interested in psychology as well," Matilyn said, bemused.

  Ra'sha laughed, "I'm interested in everything."

  "Just not being queen," Matilyn said, trying to steer the subject back on track.

  "No. I have no interest in that," Ra'sha repeated. "I told my father as much. He was much more eager for the position than I was."

  Matilyn raised an eyebrow. That was something the other woman had never said before. "He wanted you as queen?"

  Ra'sha frowned, "He didn't attack Princess Catherine either. He has always wished the best for me, and he believed that becoming the ruler of Terifille would allow that. He understood my hesitancy though and when the King told us that the betrothal was off the table, he accepted it with good grace."

  "As far as you know," Matilyn said.

  Suddenly the other woman stood and pushed back from the table, "This interview is over," she said cooly. "Unless, of course, you plan on holding me in one of the king's cells?"

  "No," Matilyn said, "I'm not here to arrest you, Miss Swin."

  "Then I'm leaving," Ra'sha said. By the time Matilyn could think of a reasonable way to make her stay, she was already gone.

  Two days later, Matilyn found herself standing outside of the Swin estate, knocking on the door. The estate was huge, and not at all difficult to find. It was surrounded by a large stone wall with a tall, metal gate. It looked intimidating from the outside but once she entered the courtyard, Matilyn could see
the warmth everywhere.

  She thought of Ra'sha's speech about aesthetics and nature as she peered around. The entire place seemed to be one large garden. There were large trees with huge leaves surrounded by forest-colored bushes. A large variety of colored flowers of many sizes and shapes were everywhere. Matilyn's eye was particularly caught by a large, dinner-plate flower. It was a brilliant yellow.

  She'd never seen such prestigious, artistic work, not even at Penny's father's home. It amazed her, and also made her feel a little uncomfortable. She was once more aware that she was dealing with people high above her social status.

  Of course, she wasn't the same girl she'd been in Valishna. There, she'd been nothing but a blacksmith's daughter and a priest. While priests had their own sort of place in the city, they weren't considered upper-class. It hadn't been a problem with Penny's family that she was a girl; the problem had been that she lacked any status.

  Here, though, she was a high-ranking military officer of the Lamonte military. She was not a nobody. Even when she'd fought for Arinford, she'd earned her own sort of notoriety.

  The door opened and revealed a large foyer. A man stood there, dressed in crisp, fresh clothing. "How may I help you?" he asked.

  Matilyn cleared her throat, "I'm looking for Lord Swin," she said. "I have a few questions I'd like to ask him."

  Before she could say more, Ra'sha appeared behind the servant. Her eyes narrowed when she saw Matilyn. "More questioning?" she demanded.

  The servant glanced over at the younger woman. "Lady Swin."

  "I can handle this," Ra'sha told him.

  "Are you certain?" he asked.

  Ra'sha gave a firm nod. The servant made a bow to both of them and then skirted his way back into the house, glancing only once over his shoulder.

  "I thought I made it clear that we would not be party to the suggestion of treason any longer," Ra'sha said, "You've conducted enough interviews. Leave my family in peace until you have something more substantial than a mere suggestion of betrothal."

  Matilyn shook her head, "I do, though," she said.

  The color fled from Ra'sha's face, "Impossible."