by Connie Ward
I turned to leave, his bitterness too much to bear, but he rose from his chair and caught my hand. “Don't you understand? I do want this. I want to feel again. That's why when we met on that hilltop in Laurelac I hesitated to kill you. You were my sworn enemy, and yet you were the one person capable of reaching me. In that one instance of weakness, I felt the first faint stirrings of something I hadn't felt since Mauranna died, since I joined the Crusaders. Hope. I decided then, as long as that hope remained, I couldn't destroy you."
Swallowing my dread, I whispered, “Do you regret that decision?"
"No. From that very first moment I saw you in Sestus's room, I knew there was something special about you. I knew you would somehow touch me. I felt it here.” He tapped his shirt where his heart should lie. “It was the same feeling I had in Laurelac."
"Then ... you suspected all along?"
"I suppose, in some part of me. I just didn't examine it closer because I didn't want to believe it might be true. You were right to hide yourself from me. My fury and hatred ran so deep they had to be purged before I could ever love you."
"So I did not deceive you,” I said. “You deceived yourself."
Ginger let my hand slide from his. As our fingers fell apart so, too, did something else. “It doesn't mean you are any less to blame. It doesn't make it easier to forgive you."
Ginger did not have to say it. I knew this was good-bye for us. “Come,” he said. “I'll show you back to your quarters."
The mage headed out first and I followed, not even aware of where he led. It was good to leave that stuffy room and breathe the fresh night air, to walk the empty byways of Idyll, even if I sensed that my companion wished to be anywhere but with me. “Do you think Castarr and Naren will come around?” I asked.
Ginger's stride stiffened almost imperceptibly, though I did not think it so offensive a question. “Naren will, once given the chance to debate our options. Castarr will need to be ... persuaded.” His tone was curt, clipped. He did not want to talk about it.
"How will you persuade him?"
"That's none of your concern. I assure you, you need not fear any harm at his hands. Castarr is all bluster and bravado. He's really a coward at heart."
Yes, well I had my suspicions.
I stumbled over a rock, a chunk of rubble actually. Since fragments of broken stone didn't normally litter the way to my quarters I was puzzled for a moment, until I realized the route we took was not towards my quarters, but towards the heart of the sundered keep. Ginger snatched my elbow, preventing a fall, and guided me over the lip of a crumbled wall. “Do you know where we are?"
Wary now, I surveyed the ruins sprawled before me, the wreckage illuminated by a wash of moonglow and starlight pouring through holes and cracks and a vast expanse of open sky. Sadness and a sense of isolation haunted the shattered walls. This was a place the Crusaders took great pains to avoid. A tingle of apprehension raced the length of my spine. “No."
"Below us is the kitchen.” He made a vague gesture. “Over there is what's left of the pantry. And beside it, beneath that collapsed archway, is the spot where your cousin died."
I whirled on him, my throat clogged with anger and suppressed grief. “Why did you bring me here?"
"Because there are ghosts here, princess. Ghosts that have followed Bertrand all the way to Idyll.” Under my glare, he dropped to his haunches and slid over the wall, turning to extend his hand. “And because I thought you should see it."
Ignoring his offer of help, I started to clamber over the rock myself but Ginger lifted me by the waist and set me down beside him. Letting his hands linger, he looked down at me, the barest hint of a smile teasing his lips. “You do look like him, you know. Along the jaw line. And the cornflower blue eyes. Especially with your hair cut so short. I see all that now, clear as a bell, whereas I was blind before. I miss Ivor as I would miss a brother. As children we were inseparable. Him. Me."
"And Valleri."
He nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he struggled with visions of yesterday. I had guessed at that truth some time ago, and he did not seem surprised. The moonlight limning his face lent him a vulnerable quality, revealing every emotion, stripping his soul bare. I reached to touch his cheek, to smooth away the sorrow, but he wouldn't allow it. He withdrew, retreating once more into the shadows, where he was most comfortable.
"We were always together. Shouting. Laughing. Running. Friends forever, we thought. But one is long dead. The other wants to kill me. And with each day that passes, he gives me more reason to want to kill him too."
"Why? Because he is a Royalist and you are a Crusader?"
Head tilted, he gave me a sidelong glance. “How well do you think you know Valleri? I'll wager you don't know him at all. He's a man filled with hate and guilt and anger. Those things can make one unpredictable. Dangerous. Even a bit mad."
"Then I guess I know him about as well as I know you."
His eyes narrowed at that little dig. “I'm nothing like the monster that Valleri has become."
"Well, I'm guessing there's a reason for that. A reason that starts here, in this place. What happened, Ginger, on that day so long ago?"
"That's for Valleri to tell you, princess. Not me."
"Then I see no reason for me to remain.” I turned to scrabble back over the wall. I heard the mage clawing his way up behind me. “And stop calling me princess."
"Why not? It's your title, isn't it?"
"I think we have gone beyond the need for such formality,” I replied in my driest tone.
"What should I call you then? Ruvie? Kathedra?” He was beside me now, matching my stride as I marched towards my quarters, which I couldn't reach quick enough. “Or will you pick something new? Perhaps Valleri has a pet name for you of which you're especially fond."
"Jealousy does not become you."
"I think, however, Kathedra suits you best. The schemer. The manipulator. The traitor. The liar."
"Stop right there.” We had reached the steps to my quarters. I spun, finding him so close on my heels my nose brushed his leather jerkin. I had to shove him away just to meet his gaze. “You are like a wounded dog, lashing out anyone who comes too close. You can't heal, Ginger, until you let go of the pain."
"Pain?” A howl of laughter, ringing of spite and mockery, pealed out. “What do you know about my pain?"
"I know that whatever is between you and Valleri has nothing to do with me. Now, please go. It hurts me just to look at you."
I closed the door on him, though he'd made no move to leave. But the wooden panel was no barrier against the words he spoke next.
"Not then, Kathedra. But it does now."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Two days later I awoke with a start at a commotion outside my quarters. Slipping my cloak around my flimsy shift, I ran to the door and flung it wide to see a gang of Crusaders had gathered in the entrance to the infirmary. Castarr and Sestus were engaged in heated debate while Belvemar strove to calm them down. Naren and Ginger looked on impassively.
"You can't just barge in there!” Sestus yelled. “You must reconsider. What you are doing is wrong."
"There is nothing to reconsider,” Castarr shot back. “If you don't do something about her right now, Naren and I will pull out of Idyll."
I assumed I was the topic of the discussion. From the doorway, I asked, “What's going on?"
Everyone's attention veered my way. Castarr pointed an accusing finger. “Look! She has the impertinence to pretend she doesn't know what happened."
"That's probably because I don't."
He stalked across the road, grim determination in his face. I stepped out into the street to meet him. He could not intimidate me.
The others followed, but Sestus caught up to him first and grabbed his arm. “Castarr, you're behaving irrationally. You know damned well she had no part in Legora's death."
"Legora is dead?” I gasped. Although Ginger had said Legora was a threat to
me, I could not rejoice in his death.
"Yes,” Sestus snapped. “Strangled in his sleep last night. We found diamond dust beneath his bunk."
Castarr jerked his arm free, to rant at no one in particular, “Everything's ruined! Ginger is the only Umagi left capable of maintaining the teleportals, and he can't possibly operate them all at once."
"I think that's the general idea,” Naren remarked. “It's fortunate Ginger wasn't here last night or he might be dead as well."
That surprised me. I had not known Ginger had left Idyll. “Where were you?” I asked.
"Don't tell her anything,” Castarr sneered. “She can't be trusted."
"You don't seriously suspect Kathedra murdered Legora?” Belvemar snorted. “That's preposterous. She's physically incapable of strangling a man with her bare hands, even with magebane."
"Search her quarters, then. Something just might turn up. And what about the disaster at Killary? I bet she's responsible for that, too. The Royalists knew the precise location of that teleportal."
"Repachea didn't disclose that information to me,” I replied, struggling to remain calm. “And even if he had, how exactly would I get that information to the Royalists? Telepathy? I'm not free to come and go from Idyll as I please."
But Castarr didn't care much for logic. He whirled again on Sestus. “I want her locked up. If you won't do it for our own protection, then do it for hers."
"Are you threatening me?” I almost laughed at the absurdity. “I warn you, I have the power to defend myself.” Though that remark in itself could be construed as a threat, my indignation would not be contained. I began to wonder half seriously whether Castarr had murdered Legora himself simply to implicate me, so virile is his hatred.
Castarr blustered on, but I sensed his hidden fear. “If you call down your witch powers upon me you will only prove my point. Perhaps if you exercised some benevolence it would work in your favour. If you are truly all you purport to be, then it can do no harm."
He had ingeniously backed me into a corner.
"Either she is put under lock and key, or Naren and I walk."
"Don't do it, Sestus,” Belvemar urged. “You know he's wrong. Call his bluff."
Sestus was torn, unwilling to risk Castarr's bluff, yet unwilling to support the belief I may be untrustworthy. He looked to Naren, who had not openly denounced me, but on the other hand, had not contradicted Castarr. The young commander made no attempt to sway Sestus's decision either way, his expression bland and unreadable. If I had to make the choice, I would not take the chance he was bluffing.
"Do as he says."
Sestus turned to the mage, his eyes wide in dismay. “Ginger ... not you?"
"Just do it, Sestus."
Now everyone stared at the mage, including me. “Don't let them coerce you this way, Ginger,” Belvemar gasped.
"Let's not argue it further, gentlemen. Sestus, escort the princess back to her quarters."
Castarr beamed in triumph. “You see, Highness? Not even your own lover trusts you."
There was no crueller taunt he could have made, the gloating pig. Even Naren had the decency to look ashamed by their petty victory. He would not look at me directly.
Betrayed again by someone I loved.
Sestus approached me, sheepish. “I'm sorry I must do this, Kathedra.” He gestured in the direction of my quarters.
"I understand, Sestus. It's only your duty."
I could scarcely believe Ginger would go back on his word. Was this his idea of revenge? Punishment?
As I turned to go I glanced at the mage, hoping to see some hint of remorse in him, yet knowing I wouldn't. It seemed he stared straight through me, his eyes penetrating like steel. Though his face was set in its customary mask of stone, he could not disguise the anger inside him. He showed no sign of regret, or the love we had shared so briefly. There was no forgiveness in him. Mercy and compassion are not in his vocabulary.
After a thorough but fruitless search of the place, Sestus installed me in my quarters and placed me under house arrest. I don't know what Castarr had hoped to find unless it was his common sense. Two armed guards stood vigil beyond the door, with orders to subdue me any way possible if I tried to escape.
As my jailer Sestus was my only visitor. He brought my meals but did not loiter, always anxious to be gone. He was ashamed of himself, of Ginger, of them all. He avoided all eye contact and conversation. When I questioned him about their grand strategy he sidestepped me with the excuse we were forbidden to discuss such things. That was not the Sestus I knew, the Sestus who had plotted so readily with me to conceal my identity and undermine his fellows.
Something fishy was up. No doubt Ginger had some cockamamie scheme that I was to remain ignorant about until it was too late. He was no different than Valleri. I was a pawn here just as I had been in Castle Gryphon, to be manipulated for someone else's benefit. And again, I was a prisoner.
How long was my incarceration to last? How did the Crusaders plan to defeat Valleri now that they had declined to allow me to resume my role as Gryphon Highlord? Or was I still to be incorporated into their master plan, without my knowledge or consent?
What did it matter? Truly, I couldn't care less about the damned revolt, whether who won or lost, if Valleri was crowned king or that dipshit Castarr. Such things mattered little to me now that Ginger had condemned me, now that he had made it clear how little I meant to him.
Maybe it was simply my just desserts. If I could so easily betray Valleri, then why should I be surprised by Ginger's betrayal? Yet another thought to ponder, to occupy my hours of confinement.
Nevertheless, I clung to the hope that deep down in some small part of him, Ginger still loved me, still believed in me.
* * * *
On the third day of my captivity, Ginger broke his silence. He stood in the doorway and scrutinized me with those shrewd mage eyes. Meeting their weighty gaze, I tried to manage a defiance but I'm afraid he saw only my despair.
Sombre, almost contrite, he said, “I did not mean to hurt you."
And that's supposed to make it all better?
"Let me explain."
I tried to block him out, but the best I could do was ignore him. Although I had extended no invitation he came inside. “You can't shut me out,” he continued. “I know you can hear me."
Though I said nothing, he knew exactly what I was thinking. “I did not betray you."
That angered me into speech. “Don't lie to me,” I hissed. I knew I had to control my powers if I wanted to win his trust, but it was an impossible task for me at the moment. Again I tried to close my mind to him, but managed only to slam shut the door.
Ginger did not even flinch. “I know how it must seem to you, but believe me, I had no choice. If we had not given in to Castarr's ridiculous demand, he and Naren would have walked out on us. I had to force Sestus's hand. Can't you understand that?"
In all honesty I could. But it didn't lessen the indignation of being imprisoned like a criminal. “I understand you had a decision to make,” I sniffed, crossing my arms. “You chose to dishonour me just to satisfy that swine Castarr."
"I'm sorry you see it that way. Castarr we can do without. In fact, we'd probably be better off had he left. But we need Naren. We need his guile and skill if it comes to a confrontation with Valleri. But most of all, we need to hold the organization together, to present a united front. We can accomplish nothing divided."
My resentment subsided. He had done what he had to do, what was necessary. Devious and ruthless like I could never be. What hurt most was his personal rejection of me. Truth was, I would have gladly suffered this indignity if only I could be certain there was still room in his small, hard heart for me.
"We need you,” he added. “The people of Thylana won't want some brash usurper on the throne when they can have you, the rightful heir. Granted, Valleri looks more appealing than Bertrand, but the Princess Kathedra has always been their first choice. Likewise the Cru
saders need you, the real Gryphon Highlord, to lead us against Valleri. He will not go without a fight. You must give us strength and leadership. It's a task you do very well."
I gave him a sharp look, trying to gauge his sincerity. “Now you think I should help you, when you are so reluctant to help me? Why, I've been treated abominably! I've been called a lying, treacherous whore. Why should I help you do anything?"
"If you want your throne, you will help. Valleri is your sole obstacle now. You need us to wrest it from him."
Of course when put like that, I had no choice. I lowered my arms, obedient to his will. “Then do me one favour. Shut down your remaining teleportal. If there's a key out there floating around without a minder, you don't want it finding its way into the hands of the Royalists.” No one had said either way to me whether or not Repachea's key was missing, but I assumed it was.
"We discussed the matter and decided to keep the teleportal operational. If I close it, it's closed for good. I will be unable to regenerate it on my own. I have no teleportation abilities. That was Legora's specialty. I merely feed it energy when it grows depleted."
"Then you take a huge risk."
"There can be no help for it. We voted unanimously to proceed with our plans. Time is running out for the Crusaders. It's now or never."
It seemed that a plague of illogic had descended upon Idyll, devouring rational thinking just as locusts consume crops. Maybe illogic wasn't wholly to blame. Desperation was an element in this, too.
Ginger took a wary step towards me, perhaps fearful of doing or saying something that may drive me further from his purpose. I noticed he held a small, shiny object in his hand. “Here,” he said, passing it to me.
I accepted the offering: a silver ring, like a wedding band, delicately scrolled. My heart fluttered. Could it truly be what I thought?
Ginger smiled weakly. “Put it on."
I shuddered all over with delight and slipped it onto the fourth finger of my right hand—the one that girls in Thylana reserve for tokens of love and promise. My first. Women place high store in such things. Even those who lead great armies.