“Of course you can. But only...only if you want to, Calla,” I stammer, shaking my head. “I just want you to know,” I tell her quietly, my voice solemn, “that before Virago...I had my heart broken.”
Calla raises a brow. “What happened?” She gestures to two chairs close by, big, plush seats with embroidered pillows. I sit down, holding her gaze.
“I loved this woman,” I say tentatively. I haven't really told my story like this, not since it happened. “Her name was Nicole, and I thought I was going to marry her. But she started to lose interest in me, stopped caring about me...and then I found out she'd been cheating on me for over a year with her assistant.” Even saying the words reminds me of how Nicole used to look at me, used to care about me. I'm head over heels in love with Virago; I think it's true love, and I never believed in the concept before. But Nicole’s betrayal still hurts, as do all of the betrayals I’ve experienced in my lifetime. Even if the wounds heal, there is some small part of me, deep inside, that will always bear the scars.
Calla pales as she stares at me, her green eyes flashing. She clasps her hands in her lap again, but I can see that her knuckles are bright white, as if she's holding herself too tightly.
“I'm sorry you went through that, Holly,” she tells me, her voice hoarse. “Like you, I also suffered a betrayal...” She trails off, her eyes glistening.
“Calla, you don't have to talk about this,” I tell her, but she smiles sadly and shakes her head.
“If I don't talk about it,” she whispers, “I'm going to die. I have to tell the story… I have to release it, or I will never start to heal. And I think,” she says, flicking her gaze to me, “that I want to start healing.”
“All right.” I spread my hands in my lap. And then I smile at her, holding her gaze. “I'm listening.”
Calla stares down at the floor for a while before clearing her throat. Her eyes are distant, unseeing, but then she begins to speak. “I loved a knight once. Her name was Bel. I...I met her when I was a very little girl, and we grew up together here, in the palace. She was...” Calla sighs, closing her eyes. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world. She had long brown hair that fell in waves, an upturned nose, eyes that sparkled like gems. She was perfect,” says Calla, opening her eyes. There is such sadness in her gaze; the sight guts me to my core. “But she wasn't perfect. Not truly. I gave her my heart; I showered her with gifts, with palace privileges… She had anything, everything she wanted. I just wanted to make her happy. But I think I went too far. I loved her, but I don't think she ever really loved me. She saw my crown—and not my heart,” Calla whispers. “We used to go to this place in the woods. It was a little castle my mother built for me. Just a playhouse, really, but we went there when we were small, so we would go there to tryst when we were older. And it was there that she told me that she was seeing several women, had been seeing several women since we had gotten together. And she told me that she did not love me.”
Calla pronounces this in a soothing voice, but I can still hear the pain in every word. “I don't know how to articulate,” she says, folding her hands into hard, small fists, her fingers curling against her palms so hard, her nails must be cutting into her skin, “how very, very much I loved her. And how very, very much she broke my heart,” she whispers.
A single tear escapes her glittering right eye and traces its way down her pale cheek.
I reach across the space between us and take up her hand in my own. “I'm so sorry, Calla,” I tell her, and mean it from the deepest place within myself. “She should never have been so dishonest with you. You didn't deserve that.”
Calla glances up at me in surprise, her eyes wide, the tears shining in them.
“It's true,” I tell her, shaking my head. “You didn't deserve that. Beyond the fact that you're queen, you're also a really awesome person. I mean, I haven't known you that long, it's true...but you're really nice. You're generous and kind and giving. And you deserve a woman who will adore you for all of those parts of you—not just the crown,” I say, with a little smile. “Bel didn't deserve you. I'm so sorry that she hurt you.”
Calla shakes her head a little, her eyes downcast. “She said that no one would ever love me, because I am the queen. That I would never really know if people loved me for me...or if they loved me for my title alone.”
“And...that's a hard one,” I say, frowning. “You'll have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your lady, I'm sure. But don't stop believing, okay? I'm so sorry your childhood sweetheart broke your heart—I can't even imagine that pain,” I say, shaking my head. “It hurt enough when a woman I'd known for only a few years did it to me. I still bear that scar,” I say, patting my heart, “and you'll always have yours. But you deserve love. And I think you'll find it. You just have to keep looking.”
Calla stares off into the distance, her eyes still bright. “I don't know if I believe in love anymore,” she says softly. “Oh, what you and Virago have...it's beautiful,” she says, as she glances back at me with worried eyes. “I just don't think I'm ever going to experience something like that.” And then tears begin to stream down her cheeks.
For a long moment, I don't say anything. We sit together, the pain between us pulsing, as alive as any living thing can be. I touch Calla's hand, and she holds my fingers tightly, as soft, quiet sobs wrack her shoulders.
She is in so much pain that I wonder if she really can love again. If she can trust someone enough again. God, I hope so. She deserves happiness. She deserves a woman who will see her, see every part of her. She deserves to be seen to the depths of her heart.
“Thank you, Holly,” she whispers, then, her voice soft. “But...but if it's all right with you, it's very difficult for me to cry in front of people,” she says, fishing an embroidered handkerchief out of her sleeve and covering her face with it in her hands. “Please go,” she whispers to me.
“I would love to, uh, get some fresh air, anyway,” I say, clearing my throat and standing quickly. “You take as much time as you need, Calla,” I tell her, reaching out and touching her shoulder lightly. And then I turn and leave, rubbing my arms, feeling disquieted.
How many women have been so hurt? How many women are afraid to love again?
And, heart in my throat, I consider the possibility that, if Virago had never found me… What might have happened? I wonder if I would have been able to trust again. Or was it because she found me that I learned to trust?
Was it because she was exactly the right person for me?
And if so...I hope the right person is out there for Calla, too.
I reach Kell and Virago, and Kell glances over my shoulder at me, her brows up.
“What did you do to Calla?” Kell asks suspiciously, but I shake my head.
“She just...wanted to talk to me about something,” I say, then glance at Virago. Virago gives me a small, sweet smile, and I hold her gaze for a long moment.
Because she always, always makes me feel seen.
“I'd like to get some air—and give Calla a little privacy,” I say then, glancing from one knight to the other. “Go outside, maybe?”
Kell considers this. “Well, I was about to head out and fetch Calla some tea from from her favorite tea shop. But if you’d rather do it...” Kell shrugs and hands me a single gold coin, warm from her palm. “It's a nice walk there, and it's a nice day. And, honestly, I'm still very tired from last night,” she says, waggling her eyebrows.
I laugh in spite of myself. “Okay. Yeah, that'd be fun. It'll give me a chance to see a little bit of the city, too,” I tell her with a shrug, turning to Virago.
“Just be safe,” says Virago worriedly, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around me, drawing me close to press a warm kiss to my forehead.
“Goddess, Virago, she'll be safe. It's Arktos City,” snorts Kell. “All right, Holly. When you leave the palace, you'll be on the main road. Walk down until three streets pass by on your right. On the fourth street, turn right, and the shop wi
ll be there straightaway. It's called A Cup of Magic,” she says, with a wide smile. “The sign has a little cup of tea on it, painted purple. Really, you can't miss it.”
“Of course,” I tell her with a small smile, and then I'm curling my fingers tightly around the gold coin, which feels surprisingly weighty in my hand. “That sounds easy enough. I...just don't know how to get to the front of the palace.”
Virago inclines her head toward the library door. “Bear left out of this room, and then right. Keep going straight, and you cannot miss it. And if you see anyone, they will gladly direct you.”
“I'll be right back, okay?” I tell Virago, lowering my voice.
She shakes her head, though I can see that she hesitated for a long moment. “Just...just be careful. I know my fellow knights have the city well protected,” she says, though her jaw is clenching. “But still, be on your guard. There are knights everywhere, especially so close to the palace. If anything happens, just find the closest one, tell her that you are Virago's lover, and they will defend you to the death,” says Virago seriously, curling her hands tightly over mine.
“She's getting tea,” Kell says, rolling her eyes, “not challenging a pack of werewolves. She will be fine, Virago,” Kell mutters then, one brow up.
“Of course, of course,” says Virago, taking a step back and lifting her chin, though I know that she's more than a little conflicted about setting me loose in the city.
“Do I have enough here to buy tea for you guys, too?” I ask, holding up the gold coin.
Again, Kell snorts. “Calla always spends a gold coin for her teas, and a gold coin is worth about fifty teas,” says Kell, with a small laugh. “But Calla is a good queen.”
“I'll be back,” I say, blowing a kiss to Virago, and then I'm out the door and into the hall beyond it.
I stare down the enormous hallway, biting my lip, as I try to remember the directions. For the record, I'm terrible at directions, whether I can remember them or not. “Um...right and then left?” I mutter to myself, setting off with a shrug to the right. At least, I think this was the way I was supposed to go...
All along the hallway, there are different suits of armor. I guess this is an “armor through the ages” sort of display, because some of the suits of armor look ancient, like they should be in a museum, not out in the open collecting dust (though, admittedly, there's not a speck of dust on them). And some of them look newer than Virago's armor, and much shinier. As I walk, I admire the different types of metal plating, of leather armor, of chainmaille armor. Some of the armor even comes with helmets, complete with vividly colored plumes, long, draping feathers that, on some of the helmets, nearly graze the ground.
I'm intrigued by the suits of armor until I reach a turn in the hallway and see a row of doors on either side of me, impressive-looking doors that are tall and pointed at the tops, like Gothic windows. I pause. I'm not exactly certain if I went the way I was supposed to when I left the the library, but this doesn't look right to me. Shouldn’t I have found the door leading outside by now? Ah, well, I must just have to go down the corridor and make another turn...
But when I'm halfway down the hallway, I hear voices. Loud voices. They're coming from up ahead, from around another turn. These are voices that are familiar to me, but I can't quite place them yet...
Normally, meeting someone in a corridor wouldn't be a problem. I'm certain I'm already lost (how is this even possible?), and getting directions from a more knowledgeable resident would be great.
But as I stand, my heart thundering in my chest, I realize where I recognize the voices from. Because one of the voices belong to Charaxus—I would know her deep, dark, grating tone anywhere.
And talking with her is a man. A very angry man.
A lump rises in my throat as I realize he must be Charix, Charaxus' brother.
I have no idea why I do what I do next. No idea in the world, honestly. Maybe it's because of the assassination attempt; maybe it's because Virago doesn't trust Charaxus at all; maybe it's because I got a look at Charix last night, and I really, really didn't like what I saw. Either way, my next action is purely ridiculous.
Because I sprint around the edge of one of the suits of armor and duck down behind the suit, wedging myself in between the marble stand that the armor is on and the wall behind me.
The suits of armor are positioned in niches in the wall, but still—my hiding place is less than great. Scooby-Doo level, really. My heart is pounding inside of me, and I feel absolutely stupid, crouching here where they're probably going to spot me instantly, and then think I'm a complete idiot. And why am I even doing this? Because I don't like the look of Charix? This is crazy! They're going to see me right away...
But they don't. There's a long moment of boots clumping on the floor, and then Charaxus and Charix walk right by the armor, still engaged in a heated discussion.
And they pause quite near me.
My blood is pounding so loudly through my veins that I'm terrified they’ll be able to hear it. But, instead, I hear this:
“You swear to me that this will be done, sister?” hisses Charix. I can see his boots around the corner of the pedestal, and the hem of his fur coat drifting down to the ground as he pauses, as he takes a violent step forward, gripping his sister's arm aggressively.
“Unhand me,” she growls savagely, and she pulls her arm free from his grasp, but he grips her again, even tighter, his fingers curling in. I can actually see the metal plate on her arm bending away from his fingers.
“You swear to me,” he murmurs, his voice a low snarl, “by the Goddess herself that you will do this thing you promise.”
“I swear by Cower,” whispers Charaxus, leaning closer, her face dark, “that the queen will be yours before the end of the Tournament.”
His eyes dart around and almost bulge out of his head as he lets her arm go. “Speak not so loudly and where anyone can hear you,” he growls, but his tone is softer now as he gazes at his sister. Softer by a hair. “You were born and bred by Furo,” he says, lifting his hand and tapping the place over his heart, “and you are loyal to Furo,” he tells her, reaching out and tapping her heart, too.
Charaxus' jaw tightens, but she says nothing else as she stares at her brother, as her eyes narrow.
“We have nothing further to discuss,” says Charaxus, shaking her head, her long mane shifting over her shoulders. “We must not be seen together,” she tells her brother in a warning tone.
Charix shrugs indolently, turning on his heel. “Goddess bless you,” he tells her in a mocking tone, a sneer evident on his face as he shakes his head and chuckles, stalking back down the hallway in the direction that they came, the hem of his fur coat billowing out behind him.
For a long moment Charaxus stands very still, her hands curled tightly into fists, her breathing coming quick, her face cloudy. I hold my breath, my heart racing through me. She knows I'm here. She knows I'm here; that's the only reason she's staying behind.
But no. I glance around the pedestal, and I let out my breath in a soft gasp.
Because Charaxus stands there, and a single tear leaks from her right eye, tracing its way down her pale cheek to slide off her chin. For a long moment, she simply stands there, the glimmering trail of the tear still etched on her face. But then the moment is over. Charaxus turns on her heel, and she continues on down the corridor, the way that she and her brother had been headed before they stopped beside my suit of armor.
I get out from behind the pedestal after waiting for her to round the corner. I hear no other sounds, no voices or footsteps, for a good, long while. I stand up, and I'm shaking as I lean against the suit of armor. I wonder what the hell I just heard...and what the hell I should do about it.
I mean, it seemed pretty obvious to me. Charix wants the queen, and Charaxus is going to give her to him.
For a long moment, I stand there, uncertain as to what I should do. It seems clear to me, but then...maybe I misheard them? I know that soun
ds ridiculous, but I have no idea what that conversation meant.
I don't know. I don't know.
As I stand there, I realize that I'm trying to convince myself that Charaxus doesn’t truly have any dark intentions. Because how could she be the vice queen if she has such poor character? I have no idea how a vice queen is chosen, but I'm assuming that the queen herself has a say in the matter. And why in the world would Calla choose a vice queen who couldn't be trusted?
I glance down at the palm of my hand and look at the golden coin that rests there. It's perfectly round, and on one side is a smattering of raised five-pointed stars. I rub my finger over the stars as I try to figure out what to do, and—in frustration—I set off down the hallway in the direction that Charix took.
I promised that I would get the queen tea. Charaxus said before the Tournament was over, Charix would have Calla...so I probably have some time to try and figure out what to do. I don't want to start a witch hunt if I'm wrong.
But I don't want Calla taken, either. Kidnapped.
God. I don't know what to do.
And, honestly? Picking up some tea sounds like the perfect antidote to all of this confusion. Tea. Yeah, I like the sound of that.
Chapter 10: Conspiracies
I don't think I've ever been so glad to enter a tea shop in my life.
There's a bright, silver-sounding bell that rings out merrily when I open the door to the shop (that was, admittedly, relatively easy to find, once I managed to get out of the palace itself), and then I'm shutting the big, wooden door behind me, my eyes scoping out the interior.
The shop is dimly lit, and the diamond-paned windows don't let in that much light, so it takes a long moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I take a few steps in, and then I notice the lady behind the counter.
“Hello,” she tells me with a bright smile, leaning on the counter and putting her chin in her hands.
Like me, she has long red hair, but it's much curlier and poofier than mine. I love it. She has it drawn back from her face with two pins above her ears, and she's wearing a bright purple dress with a bright blue apron.
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