by A. M. Hudson
“Ara.” Falcon turned me to face him, closing Emily out of the circle. “What happened?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
He frowned at me, his hands going tighter on my arms for a second, his eyes narrowing in question, slightly flicking on to Emily.
I shook my head. She wasn’t the reason I couldn’t talk.
“Ara,” he said, “You know you can trust me with anything, even if it was something you weren't allowed to tell anyone.”
“Can I trust you not to do anything about it, to act as if I never told you?”
He went to say something, closing his mouth with a little pop after, his shoulders sinking. “Yes. If it’s just an ear you need, of course.”
I turned and glanced back at Emily. “Thanks, Em. I’ll be okay.”
“I get it.” She reversed away. “Not for my ears.”
“It’s for your own protection.”
“More like so I won’t tell David.”
“No, Em,” I started, but she disappeared.
“Forget it, Ara. If that’s the attitude she has, she’s better off outside the circle of trust.”
I nodded. “She’s just got her nose out of joint.”
“Yes, well, she’s also still very close to David. Anything you don’t want him to know, you probably shouldn't tell her.”
“She’d never say anything to him.”
“No, but he can read her mind.”
“Yes.” I looked at my shoes. “I really hate that ‘special connection’ they have.”
Falcon laughed through his nose. “It’s pretty odd. Drives Blade crazy, too.”
“Has he told her, yet—that he’s. . .”
“No,” he said, his lips staying in the shape of the O for a bit too long. “And you’d better not say anything, either.”
I crossed my heart. “I won’t.”
“Good. Now—” He laid his hand firmly on my shoulder, almost like a gentle slap. “What’s got you so upset?”
I looked back into the Great Hall. “Not here. Okay?”
“Okay. Bedroom.”
We walked in silence up to my room and, once there, Falcon barely even shut the door before I broke down and told him the whole story—everything I needed off my chest and everything I wasn’t allowed to tell him, even about Morgana. I let it all pour out.
And he just stood there while I paced back and forth, holding as still as a statue until I finished and looked at him, tears streaming down my cheeks and said, “So? What do I do?”
“I—” He stumbled clumsily backward and sat down on my blanket box, rubbing the tops of his thighs. “Ara, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where to start.”
I wiped my face, just waiting for a word of wisdom or maybe even comfort.
“Have you told David any of this?”
“No.”
“And you won’t?”
“No.”
“Mike?”
I laughed. “God, no.”
He laughed, too, then stood up and wandered over, drawing me in for a very needed hug. His big hand squeezed my hair flat to the back of my neck while the other rubbed my back, just leaving everything unsaid for a few moments. “You poor kid.”
I sunk into him a bit more then, drying the corner of my eye on his shirt.
“I just . . . I’m so sorry he killed your mom.”
“Me too.”
“But. . .” He looked down at me, leaving his hand on the side of my neck. “You know that’s not your fault, right?”
“But I—”
“No.” His grip tightened. “Drake chose to kill her. Drake lost Anandene and he created a contract, and everything he has done in pursuit of that is on his head, Ara, not yours. You did not do this.”
“I want to believe that, but if I’d never—”
“Then believe it. Because if I thought you were to blame, I’d tell you that, counsel you on that. But you’re not. No matter how much you convince yourself, Ara, you didn’t kill her. You were a spoiled teenage brat, but that wasn’t the reason she died. Drake was the reason.”
“Yeah, to force me into Dad’s custody.”
He shook his head. “Stop trying to lay blame where it won’t fit.”
I stared at the floor, reversing the situation in my head. What would I say to him if this were his problem? “You’re right. You are. I know you are. The fact is, Drake ordered her death, like she was some pawn. And he needs to pay.”
“Yes, he does.”
“I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna go over there right now, and I’m—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, little lady. Let’s not go that far just yet.” He steadied me with a stop-sign hand. “Control those crazy pregnancy hormones.” He laughed, making me laugh a bit, too. “You have nothing to back you here. If you go against him, he’ll take your soul and give it back to Lilith. He has the dagger, remember.”
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I shrugged, hands out. “Just let him get away with this?”
“No. But don’t go rushing in there waving the sword of revenge,” he said. “We have eighteen years to devise a plan. Let’s be smart about this.”
“But,” I started, then stopped, shaking my head. He was right again. “See?” I pouted mockingly, bringing one shoulder up. “This is why I always come to you. You’re good at this.”
He grinned. “No, I’m good at Ara-Control.”
I laughed. “So, any ideas on how we can get revenge?”
“Yeah, wait until little bubba is born.” He touched my belly. “And then we’ll discuss it. But I want her safe and alive before we do anything that might put you or your soul at risk.”
“You mean Lilith’s soul,” I said spitefully.
“No.” He grabbed both my shoulders again. “Your soul. She gave it to you—well, your mother gave it to you. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, don’t you know?” He grinned.
“Yeah, but right now I’m possessed by a raw need for vengeance.”
He laughed, throwing his head back a bit, and the tension in the room eased so much then. Even my own need to cry had lifted, the weight a little less overbearing, especially since I knew that pathetic attempt at a joke wasn’t even funny.
“We’ll sort this out, m’kay?” He looked me in the eye, lowering his chin a little to prompt a response.
“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Falcon.”
“Any time.” He stood back again. “And what about Morgana? What are you doing with her?”
“Keeping an eye on her. That’s all I can do.”
He nodded in agreement, taking a really deep, shoulder-lifting breath. “What a mess.”
“You’re telling me.”
We both laughed then, more to blow out the tension than because of amusement. And Falcon just smiled, standing tall again like the knight I’d come to respect so much, his expression alight with a mix of compassion and something else I didn’t recognise. “You might want to consider telling David some of what you told me.”
“Which bit?”
“The bit about your mom.”
“Why?”
“Because he should know.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s devastating, Ara. I know he’s been a prick to you since this Jason thing came out, and I really don’t think you, or your baby—” he presented us, “—need him treating you that way. If he knew the grief you were suffering right now, I think he’d back off a bit.”
I shook my head at the ground. “He won’t let me speak to him long enough to tell him something like that.”
“Want me to tell him?”
For a moment, I considered it, considered the reaction David would have. But something told me it wouldn’t be compassion. He wouldn’t back off if he knew the truth. This horrid David that’d taken over the man I loved would probably use it to hurt me. “Nah,” I said, meeting his eye. “Leave it to me. I’ll tell him when the time is right.”
“Okay. If you’re sure?”
I nodded. “I
f I change my mind, I know where to find you.”
He placed a hand to his chest and bowed. “Always at your side, My Queen.”
Chapter Fourteen
“This ball will be the same as every other formal event,” Falcon advised. “David will escort you from the second floor into the ballroom and, once there, you’ll engage in the first dance of the evening. After a few turns on the dance floor, the guests will be asked to join you.”
I nodded, repositioning my crown where it slipped a little toward my brow. Magda had designed my dress around this gold headpiece, combining the style with the pale colour scheme of the ‘Winter Falls’ decorations in the ballroom, creating a final product that was worthy of Elizabeth I, Queen of England. Fine gold weaving ran in two lines down the front panel of the dress, like woven glitter, while the silky cream fabric caught the light just so, showing the delicate floral pattern within. The dress had come together nicely, mentioned in the Lilithian Times as, “A gold and cream Victorian gown with a modern Amarian edge to it.” It looked like a ball gown one would’ve worn with a high grey coiffure in the eighteenth century, but instead of long sleeves and a puffy bottom, we’d removed the sleeve all together, making it strapless, falling from the waist in a smaller, more elegant puff. My tiny belly was hidden completely under the drop of the skirt, and my hair had been tied up and stacked high on my head, with curls dangling softly around my face. The only thing I hated was the horrid gold heel they’d put me in to account for both David’s height and the length of the dress. I wasn’t sure I could walk in the shoes, let alone dance.
“What are you worrying about, Ara?” Falcon asked.
“Oh, nothing.” I forced a smile, noticing suddenly that he’d been studying my face. “I’m okay.”
He drew his hands from behind his back and placed one around me. “You look a bit pale.”
“I’m just nervous.”
“About what?”
I checked over my shoulder then off to both sides, making sure David wasn’t around. “Dancing with the king.”
Falcon didn’t say anything to that. He just exhaled loudly, directing his attention to the crack between the slightly open doors to the Great Hall, where, from up here on the second floor landing, we could both watch the scene beyond. Hundreds of people, by invitation only, had gathered to celebrate the miracle of life. Round tables decked in white cloths occupied the left side of the room, the giant picture of Lilith overlooking, while the right of the room, just by the piano, had been left open as a dance floor. Couples waltzed around the space, all smiling and radiant, with the candlelight echoing warm sentiments around them, charming the pale-coloured clothing like strings of gold. I couldn’t see Jason anywhere in there. He had the right to be there now that he was on my council, though, but I hadn’t spoken to David yet—hadn’t been told what his reaction was, and wasn’t sure if he was going to willingly stand by and allow it, or if he might think to stop it by any means necessary. Including by locking Jason up for tonight.
“Thank you, Falcon,” David said dismissively, stepping up out of nowhere. “We’ll see you inside.”
Falcon glanced back at David, and lowered his head to mine, keeping his arm around me. “You be okay?”
I nodded.
“I’ll be on the dance floor, right below you. Just whisper my name if you need me,” he hinted.
I nodded again, my chest too full of air to speak.
“I said, I’ll take it from here,” David reiterated.
“Good luck, Ara.” Falcon moved back as the king stood between us. “And be careful on the stairs in those shoes.”
“I will.” I smiled softly at him. “Stop worrying, Falcon. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be fine, I swear.”
He exhaled, trying to smile, but he didn’t like leaving me up here, alone, with David. Especially since the amendment of the marital laws hadn’t been passed through the Upper House yet.
“Amendment, or not,” David said to Falcon. “I would never do anything to physically hurt the girl.”
Falcon bowed once and trotted down the entranceway stairs behind us.
“Are you ready?” David asked, slipping a white glove onto his hand.
“Yup.”
“Right. Then let’s get this over with.” He walked forward, not even offering his arm, and the doors swung open, the footmen on the other side bowing their heads as we entered the room. The flow of dancing stopped below like a swirl of water ending suddenly, a few still going until they looked over their shoulders at the announcement of the king and the queen. All the pale colours, warmed with the yellow light, made the room look like a painting, something too fantastical to be real.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“Yes,” David said, bowing to our guests. “It is.”
We stood atop the stairs for a moment then, giving them all time to take us in.
“David?” I said under my breath.
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t condone this,” I said simply, touching my belly. “It must be hard for you to celebrate something you despise.”
David said nothing in return, but even if he did, I wouldn’t have heard, because my attention was swept away from our private conversation to Arthur, sitting behind the piano, tossing out the traditional entrance lullaby and replacing it with a Muse song.
“Is he mad?” I said excitedly. “I love this song!”
David frowned down at me. “I didn’t even know you knew it.”
“Are you kidding? You know how much I love Muse.”
“Come then. It’s time to enter,” he muttered, and took off.
I grabbed hold of the railing and placed my wobbly heel to the first step, searching my peripheral for David’s arm in case I needed to grab it. But his hands were behind his back, clearly being kept away from any risk of touching me. “You’ll have to touch me when we’re dancing, you know?” I said, hiding my moving lips behind the smile I offered the crowd.
“Why do you think I wore gloves?”
I scoffed in the back of my throat, not meaning to. “You know, you don’t have to be so—”
“Careful.” His hand wrapped my back suddenly; the other one grabbing my arm, hitching me upright again as I nearly flew forward, and the quiet gasp of the crowd forced my eyes onto all the shocked faces below. My heart thundered in my chest, my gaze meeting Falcon’s then, who closed his eyes, clutching his own chest.
David lifted my dress angrily, yanking the skirt out from under the toe of my shoe. “This dress is too long.”
“It’s supposed to be.”
“You need to lift it at the front when you walk, Ara. Didn’t anyone teach you that?”
“We—”
He grabbed a handful of fabric and stuffed it in my hand, closing my fingers around it. “Walk carefully. I will not catch you again.”
“You wouldn't have anyway, were it not for all these people watching.”
He looked over the room, resuming his kingly posture, and started walking. I followed, this time holding my dress above my shoes. And we entered the ball with a bit more grace than we’d started with, David offering his hand on the last step and drawing me finally close to him as we fluttered like a breeze onto the dance floor. He positioned our arms widely, with absolutely perfect form, and I caught a glimpse of us in the giant glass windows overlooking the gardens: a man in a suit of black and white, his not-so-beloved queen standing a few inches shorter than him—their backs so straight, their steps so swift and graceful, the whole scene like something from a fairy-tale. He looked nice in a suit, his kingly sash across his chest, distinguishing him from the rest of the men in the room, and I felt proud to be in his arms and also sad, because I knew this would be the last time.
The other guests joined the dance floor then, David and I stepping in smaller circles to make room for them, changing our stride so effortlessly one would think we’d danced together for centu
ries.
I looked up at his face to take him in; he was clean-shaven, his dark hair brushed back, tidy and almost too clean. But the coldness in his eyes made the green stand out more, and I couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at me.
“What was that look for?” I asked, noticing a very coy kind of almost smile on his face, too.
His hand moved slightly more around my rib. “You’ve filled out since I last held . . . since we last danced.”
My smile dropped. “I know.”
“I warned you about those brownies.”
“Magda says I’m not fat—that it’s just a part of being pregnant, you know, that you lose your child’s figure and become more of a woman.”
“Being pregnant does not make you more of a woman, Ara. That’s done by your actions alone.”
“Yes, but, she meant that the body changed—became more womanly.”
“And since when is Magda the expert?”
“She’s not. I guess.” I lowered my gaze onto David’s white bowtie. “How much longer is this dance?”
“It’s been too long already.” He stiffened just a little, angling his chin so it sat further away from the top of my head. But his eyes kept drifting downward, brushing over my face, my hair, my gown.
My smile returned. “You know, I can read your mind.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“No, I can. And you won’t say it, but you think I look pretty tonight.”
He stared down at me, his face suddenly devoid of all emotion. “I think no such thing. I barely even noticed you.”
“Okay. I get it. I know you hate me, but you don’t have to be so mean.”
“It was not my intention to be mean, Ara. Simply to state that you’re fooled if you think you enter even one of my thoughts in a day—particularly when it comes to my opinion of your appearance. Quite frankly, if I’m honest, cream makes you look washed-out, and your head looks too big for your body when you do your hair that way.”
That hurt. Deeply. But I brushed it off, flicked him a quirky grin and said, “I thought you said you didn’t really notice me.”