The Darkest Night

by Emma V. Leech

  “The baby?”

  “No!” Claudette rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Corin.”

  Océane looked perplexed, clearly not understanding. “Well, and why shouldn’t you?” she asked. “He loves you.”

  Claudette nodded again. “I know but … but he, he ...” She blushed and cleared her throat. “Océane, I feel like death warmed up, and last night … well, I didn’t feel like it …” Océane gave a blank look and Claudette gave a huff of impatience. “You know.” She gave Océane a significant look, who promptly burst out laughing.

  “Been there, done that,” she said with a snort of amusement.

  “But I can’t!” Claudette wailed, willing her to understand that Corin wasn’t Laen. “I can’t do that! He’ll find someone else ...” she began as the old familiar panic began to rise in her chest

  “Claudette ...”

  “Lots of someone elses,” she carried on as her chest grew tighter still

  “Claudette...”

  “I didn’t know how I was going to keep him before this,” she said, finding it hard to breath all at once. “But now....”

  Océane grasped hold of her arms and gave her a shake. “Stop! Stop that now.” She gave Claudette a stern look until she nodded and gave a deep breath. Putting her arm around her, she pulled Claudette close to her. “This will pass,” she promised. “The first weeks are the worst. Your emotions are scattered and you’re scared to death and it’s making you panic over nothing. You won’t always feel this way.”

  “But what if he doesn’t want me anymore?” Claudette said, voicing the fear that had never left her. She was going to marry a man that everyone desired, a king whose power was a magnet to the bold and the beautiful and the ruthless.

  “Then he’s a bloody fool!” Océane snapped, looking really quite fierce.

  Claudette looked back at her, shaking visibly now. “I’m so frightened, Océane. I’m not ready to be a mother, I’m not sure I can do this.”

  Océane sighed and held her close again. “Yes, you can,” she said, her voice firm. “You can because you have to. Think of everything you have faced since you met him, every challenge you have overcome. You are a strong and capable woman. You will have his child and you will love him and the baby, and if he doesn’t love you enough to honour you while you put yourself through this, then he is the worst kind of cowardly bastard!”

  “No. No, he isn’t. He isn’t.” Claudette wept, shaking her head.

  Océane patted her cheek with a smile. “No, he isn’t,” she said, apparently quite happy to agree with her now. “And if we’re wrong … we’ll cut off his balls and feed them to his wolves.”

  Chapter 43

  Inés gasped as she saw some of her carefully collected and extremely volatile supplies being hauled into the carriage like sacks of potatoes. "Will you be careful, you imbecile!" Blue flames flickered at her fingertips and the servant jumped out of his skin, staring at her in horror before turning and running away. "Oh, go grow a bloody backbone," she grumbled, and then began to wrestle with a large wooden chest which still had to be put in place.

  "Need a hand?" She looked up to see Jean-Pierre watching her with amusement. "You see, this is what happens when you frighten everyone away. You end up all alone with no one to help you."

  Inés scowled at him and tried hard not to notice how the muscles flexed under his shirt sleeves as he picked the trunk up and put it in the carriage for her.

  "Merci," she said, her tone grudging while trying to arrange various smaller packages carefully around it. "Did you want something?" she asked over her shoulder, as the boy was still there. He had a strange look in his eyes, nervous but determined. It was rather disquieting.

  "Oh, do spit it out," she exclaimed, impatient to be on her way now.

  He took a breath. "Is it right, what everyone's saying?" She raised her eyebrows at him and he hurried on. "You spent the night with the Duke of Ravendell?"

  She snorted at the look on his face, wishing that the hurt in his eyes didn’t get under her skin and make her wish she was someone else, someone younger and less jaded, someone worthy of that worshipful look. "Run away, little boy,” she sneered, deliberately cruel. It was for his own good. “I've told you before, get too close to me and you'll get burned, and for the record, yes, I did." She glared at him, looking defiant and hardening her heart against the sadness she saw in his eyes, it would do neither of them any good.

  "Is that what you want, then?” he asked, a thread of anger to his voice. “An evil man that will treat you like dirt and then leave you alone?" His voice was angry and jealous and she refused to be touched by the fury of his emotions.

  Instead she forced a laugh and turned to look at him. "Don't try to understand the grown-ups, sweetie, you'll only get confused."

  He flushed scarlet, looking more furious than ever. Inés sighed and put her hands on her hips. "Devil and I have known each other for some time, and he is far more than you suppose,” she said, not to be cruel but because it was true. “As for being evil, I have seen enough true evil in the world to know the difference. He is wicked, certainly, but then that has always been very appealing." She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Don't you think?" she asked in a soft voice.

  He refused to answer and looked at the boxes in the carriage and the last of her belongings as she moved to put them into the carriage.

  "Alors, it's true then. You really are leaving?" he asked.

  She rolled her eyes at him and began to pick up the last of her bags, but sighed as he beat her to it. "It does look like that, doesn't it?" she said, her tone dry, and she folded her arms, watching as he put the last of her things in the carriage.

  "Good."

  Inés looked up at him in surprise as he turned his back and walked away from her, surprised to discover how hurt she was that he sounded so pleased about it. He reached the door he had appeared from and disappeared back inside the castle, and her heart dropped as she realised he wasn't even going to say goodbye. She had just begun to scold herself for being so bloody foolish when he reappeared, carrying a rucksack.

  "What's that?" she asked, trying hard not to look pleased that she'd been mistaken.

  "My stuff, of course. I'm coming with you." He threw the rucksack on top of the other goods, making her wince and suck in a breath as glass bottles chinked beneath it.

  "Who says?" she demanded, folding her arms and scowling at him.

  "I do." He gave her a placid smile and climbed into the carriage as she just stood there, glaring at him. He banged the side of the carriage to indicate to the driver to get going, and Inés was obliged to scramble in as it began to move away. She fell through the door and nearly hit the floor face-first, but was caught by a strong pair of arms. To her shock and indignation, she found herself hauled onto Jean-Pierre's lap with a squeal that was most out of character.

  Huffing with as much fury as she could muster, she tried to get up, only to find she was being pinned in place. Before she could utter the oath that was at the tip of her tongue, a soft pair of lips pressed against hers and quite took the wind from her sails and the breath from her lungs. For a young man, he really kissed very well indeed.

  Jean-Pierre released her and looked at her astonished face with a grin.

  "What in the gods’ names do you think you are doing?" she said, staring at him in astonishment while her heart thudded in a painfully disconcerting manner.

  "I would have thought that was obvious," he said, smirking at her. "I'm playing with fire."

  ***

  Laen speared a large section of sausage, dipped it in the egg, and was chewing contentedly when the door opened. He looked up and smiled at Claudette, who approached him, looking pale and tired.

  "You just missed him, I'm afraid,” he said, gesturing for her to sit with him. “Though that may be for the good. He was a trifle hagged, to put it mildly."

  "Oh dear." Claudette perched on the armchair opposite Laen by the fireplace. A small
table had been set before him to accommodate his breakfast, and was practically groaning under the weight of food. "I suppose he sat up drinking all night?" she asked, sending Laen's overflowing plate a covetous glance.

  "You suppose right," he agreed, cutting into another fat sausage and giving her a cautious look. "He's afraid you are still angry with him."

  She shook her head, frowning. "I'm not angry,” she said, her voice quiet. “It wasn't his fault."

  Laen looked at her, considering as he chewed, and she blushed a little, shifting under his scrutiny. "I know you know it wasn't his fault, Claudette, and I know you don't blame him," he said with a smile. "That wouldn't necessarily stop you from resenting what he's done to you, though, now would it?" She flushed a little harder and he shook his head. "I don't blame you. Frankly, I'm amazed you haven't considered castration."

  She burst out laughing and Laen grinned at her. "That's better,” he said, his tone approving. “Now, take a plate and help yourself. I can hear your stomach growling from here."

  "Oh, you can't!" she scolded him with look of reproach. "Now you're just trying to embarrass me."

  "No," he said, helping himself to several rounds of toast. "I'm not, and I can promise you, you have nothing on Océane."

  Claudette snorted and did as he instructed. Laen watched with amusement as she piled her plate high and swallowed her first bite of sausage with a look of undiluted bliss.

  "I shouldn’t just sit here eating,” she mumbled, looking rather guilty. “I need to find Corin, I doubt he's had anything at all, poor thing."

  "Never mind him,” Laen said, waving his knife in a dismissive gesture. “He's probably still throwing his guts up. You'll find him in the garden by the time you’ve finished that, I imagine. He likes to get some fresh air when he's recovering from a skinful." He pointed his fork at her plate, his face stern. "You're not leaving here until that's gone, so get on with it. You're eating for two now, remember?"

  "I'm hardly likely to forget that," she muttered, her tone a little tart now.

  Laen sighed and put down his knife and fork. "Claudette, listen to me,” he said, hoping that Corin appreciated his efforts. Hearts and flowers really wasn’t his thing. “He loves you. He's never loved anyone before, and, king or no, he's just a man, he's going to mess up, do and say the wrong thing. I'm afraid it is in our nature," he added with a rueful smile. "But you and the child are everything to him, you are all he cares about." He leaned over the table towards her, making sure he had her attention. "Does it occur to you that he has three kingdoms to unite? Three races who do not trust each other an inch. We have just discovered that the Aos Si is all but bankrupt, though for the love of the gods, keep that to yourself. The place is crawling with spies, and the dungeons appear to be overflowing with enough political prisoners to keep us at war with every other race in existence until the next millennium if we are not very careful, and yet does any of this keep him awake and worried enough to drink himself into a stupor?" He shook his head. "No. Hearing you cry, though … that did."

  Claudette looked up at him, tears glistening at her pretty turquoise eyes. "He heard that?" she whispered, clearly horrified. Laen nodded and she got her feet. "I have to find him."

  "Oh, no, you don't!” Laen barked at her, wondering if he’d overdone it as she jumped out of her skin. “Sit down and eat. I wasn't joking," he said, picking up his knife and fork again.

  Claudette quailed and sat down abruptly, giving him a rather wide-eyed look of alarm.

  "Eat. Then go and find him,” he said, pointing at her plate. She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again when she saw the look he gave her. He waited until she’d taken her first mouthful before returning his attention to his own plate.

  Laen smiled to himself, though his heart ached for her. She really was terribly young to have everything thrust upon her as it had been. He remembered how he and Corin had been at nineteen, and considered the idea of being a father back then. Gods above, what a disaster that would have been. Claudette, however, seemed to have taken to the role she had been given as Corin’s future queen as gracefully as if she'd been born to it. He wondered why it was, in that case, that motherhood terrified her quite so much. The answer came easily enough as he began to consider.

  He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back in his chair. "Claudette, may I give you some advice?" he said, his voice low.

  "Oh, I wish you would," she exclaimed, putting down her knife and fork with a clatter. "You and Océane are the only people who seem to dare try,” she added. “Well, apart from Audrianne, but her advice is sometimes too scary to contemplate." She shuddered a little and Laen raised an eyebrow.

  "I can well imagine," he muttered, not wanting to know.

  "Well, then?" She looked at him, expectant, and he nodded.

  "It's simple enough, but worth heeding,” he said. Advice really wasn’t his thing either, but recent experience had taught him this much. “Stop worrying about what you are afraid to lose and enjoy what you have." He smiled at her. "Everything will be alright. Trust him, Claudette, he won't let you down. I have been his closest friend for many years, and I know this to be true.” He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, looking into her eyes so she could see for herself the truth of his words, the truth he’d learned, too. “You can trust him. He won’t let you down."

  She blinked away tears that began to threaten again, and instead nodded at him gratefully. "Thank you, Laen."

  "You're welcome." He pushed his empty plate away and reached for a spice biscuit as a knock sounded at the door. "Come," he called, and then looked at Claudette, horrified. "I do beg pardon, Claudette. That was not my place."

  She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be so ridiculous, you're the prince, I'm just ..."

  "The future queen?" he reminded her with a smile, as Bram and Ameena came in.

  She laughed and then turned to Bram and Ameena. "Bonjour, Bram, Ameena." Bram kissed her hand in his usual manner and Laen bit back a smile at the flash of annoyance in Ameena's eyes. It looked as though Corin had paid the girl a visit last night after all. "I'm afraid Corin isn't here, if it was him you wanted,” Claudette said to them.

  Laen watched in amusement as Bram hesitated, looking awkward, and Ameena gave him a poke, rolling her eyes when he glared at her.

  "Actually, Claudette, it was you we wanted to speak to," Ameena said, glaring back at Bram in return.

  "My lady," he hissed, clearly appalled by her lack of manners. "You address her as ‘my lady’!"

  "Oh don't, Bram, please!" Claudette insisted, looking uneasy. "Ameena is from my world, it's too bizarre. What was it I can do for you?"

  "Leola," Ameena said, crossing her arms as Bram groaned beside her.

  Laen snorted with amusement and reached for another biscuit.

  "Oh, Bram!" Claudette flushed, looking mortified. "I'm so sorry. I just didn't think. Yes, of course."

  "Yes, my lady, how could you have forgotten something so pressing when your fiancé was fighting a war and facing the Field of Kings!" Bram said, deadpan, as Claudette gave him a grateful smile

  "Sorry," Ameena muttered, rubbing the back of her neck and looking awkward herself now.

  Claudette shook her head. "Non, Ameena, you're right. This has gone on long enough, and I do want to help. The question is … what can I do?"

  Bram cleared his throat as Laen narrowed his eyes at him. He looked nervous, which was a bad sign. "Actually, I did have an idea, but … well, I don't expect anyone is going to like it much. Least of all Corin."

  ***

  Corin looked up at a bleak white sky and closed his eyes. He could feel a fine, cold drizzle patter against his face. He sucked in a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air, and wished life wasn't quite so bloody complicated. Varg nudged at his hand with his nose and Corin caressed his ears as Cerberus yapped beside them, intensely resentful. Crouching down, he took a moment to fuss the little dog, too. "Yes, yes, of course I love you, too. Do stop bein
g so jealous, there is really no need." Cerberus squirmed happily at his feet, gazing up at him with adoration as Corin chuckled. "We are both as foolish as each other, you do realise this?" he demanded of the tatty creature, and then got up as he heard footsteps behind him, cursing as he saw Caelum bearing down on them.

  "You cannot escape it forever, Your Majesty,” the man said, his tone stern. “We must speak."

  "Must we?" Corin asked, looking at him with distrust. "I cannot think of anything I would rather not do."

  Caelum shook his head. "Dark times are coming, sire,” he intoned, sounding far too much like the voice of doom for Corin’s liking.

  "Well, aren't you just full of the joys of spring!" Corin snapped, walking away from him and further into the gardens. “Haven’t I done enough for the time being?” he demanded, waving his hand at the lush scene before him. Spring had indeed come to the Fae Lands, and the trees were in full blossom, their petals drifting like confetti in the chill breeze that stirred them. “What more can I do?”

  "Well, you know as well as I do, I imagine," Caelum persisted, striding to keep up with him. "Tell me, did Nerthus tell you your true name, or did you already know it?"

  Corin stopped in his tracks. He could feel his heart thudding hard, and the sickness that the small blue bottle had begun to chase away returned with a vengeance. "What?" he asked with a feeling of dread creeping over him.

  "Oh, I think you heard the question, sire."

  Corin turned to see the great healer staring at him, his expression implacable, though there was perhaps sympathy in his eyes. "Do you know it?" he asked Caelum, his voice barely more than a whisper. He watched as Caelum nodded, and felt his stomach lurch with fear. He walked over to the big stone staircase that led up to one of many terraces that overlooked the garden. He sat down with a thud, more shocked than he cared to admit. He’d thought that knowledge had been his alone. Varg stood in front of him, watching Caelum, his eyes wary, the slightest twitch at his lips to show a glint of teeth. Cerberus was less politic, and snarled at him, growling and yapping. The female wolves circled behind Caelum, their eyes never leaving him.