by Kristie Cook
I sat frozen for several beats as the news set in, then finally blew out the air I'd been holding. My mind spun, swirling the crowd's loud reaction into a background cacophony. I wasn't sure what I felt. Relief, disappointment and several other emotions roiled together, fighting for dominance. She's not my daughter. I don't have a daughter. What did this mean for us? For Tristan and me? For the Amadis?
Was there still a chance I could have a girl? Although Rina never had a message from the Angels, Mom had felt the truth that I would. So perhaps all was not lost. If we could move beyond this stupid trial, if they would only give us a chance, Tristan and I might possibly still be able to give them a daughter. They had to see that now. They had to see that the girl we found, whoever she was, didn't change anything. They had to give us another chance.
Lost in thought, I almost missed what Martin had to add. He banged his fist on the table, silencing the crowd and catching my attention.
"However," he said, "there is a very close match to Tristan, leaving no trace of doubt of relation."
Chapter 22
A deafening silence filled the room. No one seemed to understand the meaning behind Martin's words, including me. My brain slowly processed them, and it eventually understood. The girl was not mine … but she was Tristan's.
"Tristan?" I whispered, unable to speak clearly around my heart lodged in my throat. He turned toward me and our eyes locked.
"No," he mouthed, shaking his head, truly acknowledging me for the first time since entering the room. He turned back to the council table and bellowed, "Impossible!"
The crowd finally reacted, just now figuring it out. They gasped and clicked their tongues, and at least one man chuckled. Hatred boiled within me. I hated the council, particularly Julia, for insisting this shame be exposed to everyone. Especially because it couldn't possibly be true. It's a set-up. It has to be. My brain, my heart, my soul couldn't accept anything else.
Julia's eyes narrowed as they scanned the paper Martin held in front of her, then she looked up at Tristan, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she fought a triumphant grin. She kept the smile to herself and maintained a ruthless glare. "The results are right here. Further proof of your betrayal. Not only did you fail–or refuse–to produce a girl for the Amadis, but you did produce a daughter with someone else and tried to make it appear as if she were ours."
"And what would be my reasoning?" Tristan demanded.
"It's obvious," Armand said. "Look at the disruption you've caused in the Amadis. Look how close we are to collapse. All at your doing."
"You're setting me up."
"It explains your defense of the girl," Julia pointed out.
"You contradict yourself. You said I attacked the girl. Are you admitting it was you?"
Julia stood and leaned over the table, baring her teeth, fangs and all. "You've betrayed us. You are the traitor. The proof is right here."
"Bullshit!" I shouted, jumping to my feet again and ignoring the reaction to my language. I looked Julia directly in the eye. "You're making it up to frame him. You've been trying to set us up for months, for some reason trying to get rid of us. It won't work!"
"You have no idea what you're talking about, girl," Julia said through clenched teeth.
"I agree we've found the traitor," Adolf said, and he sneered at me as he continued, as if to prove Julia's plan would work. "I move for a conviction of Tristan Knight for treason against the Amadis. I also move we annul his marriage to Alexis Ames and she marry Owen Allbright."
"What?" I shrieked. "You can't do this! You can't force me to marry anyone!"
Mom grabbed me by the waist, but I struggled against her.
"You are an Amadis daughter. If you are loyal to us, you will do what's best for the Amadis," Armand warned. "I second the motion."
"No! You can't do this!" I yelled louder, fighting against Mom's tight grip.
"All in favor?" Martin asked unenthusiastically, his voice loaded with defeat. I thrashed against Mom as I watched seven hands rise … against six that didn't.
Mass confusion broke out in the crowd, drowning out my cries of refusal.
"Martin didn't vote," someone called out above all the other voices and the crowd quieted.
"What's your vote, Martin?" someone else asked.
"What does it matter?" a vaguely familiar, gravelly voice said. I thought it belonged to Ferrer, the blacksmith, but I couldn't see his stooped frame in the crowd. "This is not a democracy. It's up to the matriarch. She must make the final decision."
"What say you, Ms. Katerina?" an old, small witch at the front of the crowd asked.
Rina didn't answer, but only stared at the dais. Martin pressed his lips together.
"I did not vote because I will make the final decision," he finally said. "I have been asked to take the rule for the time being. Katerina Camilla Ames has removed herself as matriarch."
And all hell broke loose.
People yelled at the council, at Martin, at Rina and at each other. The rise of emotions literally heated the room. The crowd began pushing their way toward the dais, demanding answers.
"Silence!" Solomon's voice boomed over the chaos and everyone obeyed, more out of being startled than anything. He looked every bit vampire at this moment. "We are taking a recess. Everyone out!"
When nobody moved and the protests broke out again, the council left the room themselves. The two warlock-guards led Tristan out the back, too, and Rina, Mom and I headed for the same door we came through, Mom half-carrying me.
"Rina, you have to do something!" I said as soon as the three of us were alone in the holding room. "They're obviously framing him. You can stop this."
When she looked at me, her mahogany eyes wide and moist, I could tell the fight had completely left her. "There is nothing I can do, Alexis dear. They will not listen to me. Let Martin handle this. He will do the right thing."
I whirled on Mom, and she held up her hand.
"Martin will take them in private quarters and talk sense into them," she said. "They've put their trust in him, honey. He'll take care of this and they'll have to go along with him now."
"You have listened to his thoughts, no?" Rina asked. "You know what he will do."
"I'm blocked," I said. "I can't hear anyone and no one can hear me."
"Then the traitor is here, in the crowd," Rina said.
"Obviously. No doubt creating all this mayhem to distract everyone from what's really going on. Probably influencing everyone in that room, especially with those bogus test results. And if destroying the Amadis is her goal, she's doing a damn good job of it."
Mom sat in a wingback chair in the seating area. "As soon as Martin takes care of this, we can move on and address the issue of the real traitor. We just have to wait now."
I sank onto one end of the couch across from her. "For how long?"
Mom shrugged. "For as long as it takes for him to feel he can overrule their vote without causing too many problems among them. He has to do it diplomatically, or we'll have even more trouble on our hands."
"You're sure he's with us?" I asked. "I mean, they want me to marry Owen. He might want– Wait. Where is Owen? He's not really in the hospital is he?"
"I sent him on an errand," Rina murmured.
"Oh." I snorted. "I thought maybe he ran away, before they forced him to marry me." The idea sounded appealing, much better than annulling my marriage and being forced together with Owen. If only I could talk Tristan into it. He, Dorian and I could get away from here for good, escape the crazies, as Charlotte had called them. Now I understood fully. But I didn't understand why Rina would send Owen away now, during such an important trial. His future was at stake, too, after all.
"Alexis," Rina said, and I looked over my shoulder at her. She stood where she had earlier, leaning against the wall and watching out the window, still looking just as forlorn. "Have you been able to lower your shield yet?"
"No. Why does it matter, though? I can't communic
ate with one person, let alone more."
She turned her head toward me and pierced me with fierce eyes. "You are powerful enough to break the block. You can do this. You must do it."
Then she turned back to the window and fell silent again. The woman was as crazy as the rest of them, and I no longer knew what to think of her. One moment, she acted like my grandmother, caring and protective. And the next, she appeared to have given up and acceded to everyone against us.
Someone knocked on the door, but didn't wait for an answer. Charlotte strode in, closed the door behind her and handed a sheet of paper to Rina.
"We'll be reconvening soon," Char said.
"Already?" Mom asked.
"We have to. We have to wrap this up, settle everything else and get out of here. We're needed in the field. The Daemoni have increased their attacks."
Rina gasped. I thought she reacted to Char's statement, but when I looked at her, her face looked white as snow, and she held the paper out. "It cannot be true," she whispered.
Mom made a move, but I was closer. I snatched the paper out of Rina's hands, and my eyes fell upon the test results. I'd never seen a normal DNA report, but this surely wasn't anything like it. Not when phrases such as "dark magic levels," "total magical quotient" and "individualized abilities" plastered it. There were also what I assumed traditional phrases: "alleged father," "child," "alleged mother," "genetic markers" and "probability percentage." I ignored the interpretation and studied the details for myself–numbers on a page. The child's numbers were nowhere near the alleged mother's. Lilith and I were remotely related, if at all.
But … the breath caught in my lungs, and my heart stilled. The paper rattled in my trembling hands.
"Is this … is this right?" I choked, hoping against everything that it wasn't. Tears blurred my vision as I stared at the results.
"I'm sorry, Alexis," Char said.
I shook my head violently. "No. It's not possible. They're only numbers. Just numbers. Anyone could fill those in however they want to!"
"I checked with my friend, the wizard-doctor who ran the tests. He said there's no doubt. The girl's genetic markers are very similar to Tristan's."
I blinked away the tears and glared at her. "Then your friend must be working for them. For the traitor. He's part of the set-up."
Of course that was it. He had to be part of it all. Because otherwise …
"I'm sorry," Char said again, pity written all over her face.
"I don't want your apologies!" I nearly yelled. "I don't want your pity. I want the truth!"
Charlotte held out a white envelope I hadn't noticed in her hand before. "Tristan expected the same thing, so he had Owen take samples to his own guy in London. This just came in, after Martin called for the recess. Tristan said to deliver it straight to you, and you would know what to do with the truth. No one else has seen what it says."
I stared at the envelope held between us. Such an innocuous object, paper with markings on it. An object that could be destroyed so easily–torn to bits, held to a flame, disintegrated with water and flushed down a drain–yet could hold enough power to decimate a kingdom, start or end a war, free the imprisoned innocent, lift the souls of the downtrodden … and break the hearts of lovers. For the paper and the ink didn't hold the real power. They were simply tools used by people. No, the power lay in the message contained within.
I suddenly didn't want to see the message on this particular piece of paper. I forced myself to lift my hand, to close my fingers on the envelope's edges, to take it from Charlotte and tear it open. I commanded my eyes to look at the paper, my brain to interpret the message.
Unlike the wizard's results page, this one only showed a DNA chart. It was purely scientific–the test performed and the results recorded by a doctor on stationery from a medical research lab in London. Like the false-ID creator, the doctor must have been one of "Tristan's guys" located around the world whom he could rely on for help. One of the many Normans who knew Tristan as someone who occasionally needed to circumvent authorities or cut through red tape and had the money to pay for it. They would be unaware of the Amadis and our politics just as the Amadis were likely unaware of them. Knowing Tristan, who put the Amadis above all, including himself, he would only hire someone who'd provide accurate results, even if they incriminated him. Tristan trusted this doctor to deliver only the truth.
And the results were the same.
"It … it wasn't a set-up," I said, the whisper sounding distant to my own ears.
The paper fluttered toward the floor as my body went numb. My hands fell limp in my lap, and I simply stared at them. My mind tried to grasp the true meaning of this, but some part of me kept it from doing so, still trying to deny it. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out this place, wanting to leave and go to another world where Tristan and I lived happily ever after. But Lilith's face–the sweet one, before she went all monster on us–showed on the back of my eyelids. Just like Dorian's face … which was just like his father's.
And then the thoughts I wanted to avoid bombarded me. Questions. So many questions. How could this happen? When did it happen? I'd become pregnant with Dorian on our honeymoon right before Tristan disappeared. There was no doubt because I'd been a virgin before our wedding. Had the wait been too long for him? Had he been with someone else, unable to hold out for me? Or did it happen after he left? He'd said he'd been completely faithful during his absence, but … what was I to believe now?
Then the worst images of all battered my mind and assaulted my soul. Tristan actually with another woman. Someone else embraced in his powerful arms. Limbs entangled, eyes locked on each other's with that shared look of love and lust. Strange fingers touching his naked flesh, lips kissing his full ones, hands that weren't mine on his face, on his biceps and chest, stroking him … another woman's body making him respond in a way I thought only I could do. And him caressing her, kissing her, holding her … making love to her. Doing everything he did to me to her.
Giving her a baby. A piece of him to hold onto when he wasn't with her.
I pulled my knees to my chest and bent my head to curl into a ball, trying to protect my heart and soul from the pain. But no one attacked me from the outside. The agony already burgeoned within, tightening its hold, knifing its way across my heart.
"How could he do this to me?" I whispered against my thighs. Nobody answered. "To all of us?"
He hadn't betrayed only me. I envisioned him in the meeting hall, denying it. Denying everything. If he could do this … get away with it all these years … what else had he done? What else had he lied about? Was anything he said true? The horrible idea that Julia and the others were right about him crept into my mind like a dark mist seeping in and blacking out everything I'd ever believed. He'd summarized it all himself, and now I could almost believe it, either way the story went. Not everything–some of it was outright ludicrous–but the general idea that he made all this happen to bring down the Amadis … No! Not my Tristan. Impossible!
Right?
More and more, the council's accusations began to make sense. Rina and Mom had believed in Tristan all along, before I was even born, based on feelings and messages from the Angels. The traitor had thought them foolish leaders, relying so much on their senses and directives that truly didn't exist. With his ability to identify possible options and solutions, could Tristan figure that out, realize there'd never been a message about our daughter? Had he told the traitor about Rina's lie? Oh, my God. Every time I'd heard the traitor's voice, Tristan had been there! Had his mistress been around, too? Was that her voice I'd heard? Did she stop us from making love that one night in the woods? Is that how Tristan dealt with my inability to have sex–by going to her?
Their faces overcome with bliss. Cries of pleasure escaping their lips.
The image made my stomach heave. I had nothing to vomit, though. Acid burned the back of my throat.
I clutched at my hair with my hands, my fingernails digging into
my scalp. No. It can't be. I can't believe this!
Charlotte cleared her throat, a reminder she still stood before me.
"He wants to see you," she said, her voice uncharacteristically soft and quiet. "Martin says he can come in."
I tried to imagine what I would do when I saw him face-to-face. When I looked into his eyes. What I would say. But the image eluded me. As if Foggy Alexis tried to ooze her way in to protect me.
"I don't think I can," I said, my forehead still pressed against my knees.
Charlotte sighed. "I want to say I know what Martin will do, but I can't guarantee it. He's having a hard time with the others." A beat passed before she added, very quietly, "Alexis, this might be your last chance to see Tristan alone. Ever."
And that finally got to me. The fog disappeared as the idea of never seeing Tristan–the only man I'd ever loved–squeezed my heart with panic. I couldn't let it end like this.
"Okay," I mumbled. I remained in my protective ball as hands touched my shoulder and hair, followed by the noises of people coming and going. Then the room fell silent, and a heavy weight sat on my couch, at the other end.
"Ma lykita." The loveliest voice in the world carved a gash into my soul.
Chapter 23
Tears stung my eyes just to hear Tristan's voice. I didn't move, didn't respond, afraid of him. Of myself. His weight shifted, and I knew he reached out to touch me. I pulled my ball tighter. He let out a heavy sigh. "You don't believe me."
"Believe what?" I asked. "You haven't even tried to defend yourself. Not to me."
"What? Do you think it was Rina who I tried so hard to convince that it's not true? That it's absolutely impossible? I was telling you, Lexi. You're the only one who matters."
I finally lifted my head and rested my chin on my knees, staring straight forward at the wall. Not allowing myself to look his way. "If you mean with your thoughts, I can't hear anyone. I'm blocked. But I've seen the results myself. There really is no doubt." My voice cracked on the last word as my eyes flicked to the paper from Tristan's guy on the floor.