by Jeff Wheeler
Cettie nodded. “I know. And I will make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
She squeezed her hand.
CHAPTER THIRTY−THREE
FORGIVENESS
The Tay al-Ard brought Cettie and Becka into Sera’s private room in the palace at Lockhaven. Brilliant sunlight came through the sheer drapery, revealing the remains of breakfast. Cettie had visited Sera on occasion in Lockhaven, but she’d not been there since her rise as empress. Becka knew the location, and so she was the one who had invoked the magic to bring them there.
Their arrival was noted with a gasp.
Sera and Trevon were sitting on the plush window seat, fingers interlocked. The gasp had been Sera’s. She jumped to her feet, her eyes full of bewilderment and joy as she stared at her two friends standing on the ornamental rug. Her wounds had been tended, her clothing changed into something more befitting her station. The same was true of Trevon.
“Becka!” Sera said in trembling relief. The two embraced, tears flowing. Becka was sniffling, but her smile was radiant.
Cettie remained aloof, savoring the wash of warmth inside her.
“Is it really you?” Sera said, pulling away and kissing her friend on the cheek.
“Yes,” said the younger girl. “I’m here to serve you, Your Highness. If you’ll still have me.”
“Have you! I can’t do without you.” Squeezing Becka’s hands, she looked at Cettie, her eyes swimming with tears. A moment passed, and then Sera rushed across the room and drew Cettie into her embrace, tightening her hold until it almost hurt.
Time seemed to melt away. Years were peeled back, stripped bare. Cettie’s mind was still perfectly sharp. She remembered their days together at Muirwood Abbey, their little cottage at Vicar’s Close with the lavender garden in front. Images flooded her along with the sights and smells from the memories. The times they’d spent together walking the grounds, often hand in hand. The memories seemed to feed a deep hunger inside her. Friends they had been. Friends they would always be. And those memories were joined by ones of the time she and Sera had spent with Trevon and Becka during the prince’s visits to their world, picking through the fruit stands on Wimpole Street as Sera bragged about the apples from Muirwood. Those had been such happy days. Days that had made the sun feel brighter.
“Are you hurt?” Sera finally asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve. She caressed Cettie’s hair, blinking quickly, drinking her in.
“I’m well enough,” Cettie answered, her voice thick after the rush of memories. “Though very tired.”
“Trevon, come. Come!” Sera gestured for him to approach and then took his hand in hers when he arrived. He was groomed and dressed as a prince again. But the look on his face said that the good times had ended. He looked crestfallen. There was a heavy expression on Sera’s brow as well. A pained look.
“He told me you were the one who saved him in Genevar. We spoke to his brother, not an hour ago,” Sera said. “And shared the news. They are ready to welcome back their lost king,” she said, her voice trembling. “Every moment we have left is precious to me.”
“The marriage?” Cettie asked, her own brow wrinkling in sympathy.
Sera sighed. “We never consummated it, Cettie. The privy council says it will be best to annul it. I cannot go to Kingfountain. Once the mirror gates are sealed, there can be no crossing.”
“But what about this?” Cettie said, holding out the Tay al-Ard.
Sera took it from her, fondling the magical device, and offered it back to Trevon.
“It does not work between worlds,” Trevon explained. His own eyes were dark with sadness. “Only within them. Tell her about the general.”
Cettie’s eyebrows lifted.
“His fleet is destroyed, and he with it,” Sera said. “Admiral Grant has returned and has offered surrender terms to Lord Welles. We’re expecting his capitulation today. If not, there will be more bloodshed. Montpensier’s death and our defeat of the kishion will end the war happening within Kingfountain. But there is much anger, many problems to be solved. The kingdom is fracturing. There are still enemies on the loose. They weren’t all gathered at the abbey. They need Trevon . . . to heal the breach.”
Cettie was pained to hear that news. The way they stood near each other, the way Sera clenched his hand in her own . . . She knew their separation would be painful to them both. Their hardships seemed to have brought them even closer together.
“I’m so sorry,” Cettie whispered. But she understood, in a small way, those feelings. She, too, would be separate from the man she loved.
Sera maintained her composure. “We’ll do what’s best for our people,” she said. “You must be famished! Here, eat some of our food. I’ll have more brought straightaway. Then you must rest, Cettie. Sleep as long as you need. I’m going to send word to Fog Willows that you’re here, safe and sound. I’m sure Lady Maren and the others will come immediately. Juliana is already here.”
Cettie’s eyes widened. But what about Adam? She didn’t dare ask, fearful of what the answer might be. That he wouldn’t be coming back.
As if the empress had discerned her thoughts, she said, “Adam remained back at the Fells,” Sera said, and Cettie felt her heart drop. “At the hospital. He’s rescued all those poor wretcheds who were bound by deeds.” Sera’s eyes smoldered with anger. “New laws will be passed soon. This treatment of children will not stand. I’ve asked the lord high admiral to support the Ministry of Law in restoring order to those dark places in our cities. I’ve commanded the Ministry of Thought to open refuges and orphanages to care for those with no homes. And I’ve asked the Ministry of Wind to add more doctors to study the cholera morbus and find a cure, once and for all. I cannot solve all these problems in one day. But we will begin. One day the name of the Fells will be only a memory.”
Cettie’s heart throbbed with gratitude. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said.
“No,” Sera replied, shaking her head. “You will always call me Sera.”
A light touch on Cettie’s shoulder awakened her from blissful sleep. She blinked quickly, lifting her head from the pillow in Sera’s chamber to find Becka kneeling at her bedside. The girl had changed and bathed, and it looked like her peace of mind had been restored to her.
“The Fitzroys have arrived from Fog Willows,” Becka said. “They are anxious to see you. Are you feeling well enough?”
“Yes, of course,” Cettie said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “I should like to see them very much.” The mattress had felt like feathers and clouds, and she’d sunk into its peaceful oblivion. She had no idea how much time had passed. There was still light coming in from the windows, but it seemed to be waning.
“Can I help you change?” Becka offered.
Cettie smiled. “I haven’t any other clothes.” Then she noticed three gowns folded over the back of a sitting chair.
“Her Majesty thought you might approve of one of these. They’re all yours.”
One of them, a dark green gown with thick black stripes, reminded her of one of her favorite gowns when she was keeper of Fog Willows. “The green, if you please.”
Becka helped her dress and did her hair for her. How strange it felt to have an attentive servant. It made a little feeling of guilt wriggle inside her chest, but it was overpowered by her desire to dress quickly in order to see the Fitzroys again. Once she was ready, she followed Becka through the royal corridors.
“They’re in the music room,” Becka said.
The sounds she heard coming from the room she approached would have revealed it anyway. The doors were already open, welcoming her. Cettie’s heart began to race with nervousness. Above the gentle strains of strings and rushing scales of a clavicembalo, she heard the din of voices in conversation. She thought she recognized the booming laugh of Sir Jordan Harding.
Her stomach began to twist into knots. Becka smiled, touching her arm comfortingly, as if she understood how Cettie felt.
Cettie enter
ed, amazed at the size of the crowd gathered before her. Cettie’s heart quickened at the sight. Sera and Trevon spoke with Lady Maren with smiles and nods, while Mr. Durrant, the prime minister, spoke to none other than Phinia and her husband, Malcolm. Aunt Juliana and Caulton Forshee stood nearby, huddled close together. Sir Jordan and Lady Shanron and their children were also present, and Sir Jordan was in the middle of a story about a hurricane—the storm, not the ship—he’d been in off the coast of Florentine when he was a young officer. Her heart swelled at the sight of so many people she loved and cared about. Then it constricted painfully.
Adam was also present, standing beside Anna Fitzroy, and their heads were bent low in private conversation. It caused a prick of pain in her heart, but she plucked it out.
She tried to convince herself it was good to see them together. Her heart was conflicted, but her mind would overrule it. She loved them both and wanted them to be happy.
This would be her penance, the price she should pay.
“Thank you for bringing her, Becka,” said a voice at her shoulder. It was Stephen Fitzroy, who had been waiting by the door for them.
“My pleasure, Lord Stephen,” Becka said.
Stephen offered Cettie his arm.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Cettie whispered, her chest squeezing so hard it was painful.
“One step. Then another,” he suggested with a wry smile. “They all want to see you.”
“I’m surprised to see the Hardings,” Cettie said, taking his arm and entering the room with him. The music did not come from Leerings in the walls. The instruments were being played by living musicians. This was a palace, of course, and could afford its own performers. The music caused just enough commotion that the others hadn’t noticed her arrival yet.
“You saved Gimmerton Sough from crashing,” Stephen reminded her. “All of the Lawtons’ assets have been seized by the crown. They had no children. I believe the empress is going to offer them a fair price to reclaim it. They’ll be our neighbors again.”
She smiled broadly at that.
Sir Jordan noticed them finally and quickly made their presence known to the others with an ebullient laugh and said, “Well, there she is! Now the set is complete. Does this mean we can eat soon?” Cettie bit her lip as the others all stopped what they were doing. Everyone made way for Lady Maren to hug her first, and Cettie felt tears squeeze through her lashes as she fell into her warm embrace. The subtle scent of her perfume brought back floods of memories.
“I’m so sorry,” Cettie said, grief-stricken.
“Hush, Daughter. None of that,” Lady Maren said. “You’re back. You’re back!” Maren kissed her again and again. “You’re my child. My child. I’ve missed you. How I’ve missed you!” Then there were no more words. They just held each other, weeping.
One by one, the well-wishers embraced her. Even Phinia, who had a jealous sort of expression on her face and complained, a little too loudly, that no one had ever made such a fuss over her, and she’d always been good.
Adam stared at her from across the room, giving her a relieved and tender smile. He looked so beloved to her at that moment, her heart ached. He nodded his head to her, letting the family have their turn first.
Then it was Anna’s turn to greet her. Beautiful, perfect Anna, who swept Cettie into an embrace, blond curls almost smothering her. She couldn’t speak—neither of them could.
“I love you, Cettie,” Anna whispered. “You’ll always be my sister. Please come home. We need you.”
The reunion abounded with emotion and goodwill. After each guest had greeted and welcomed Cettie, Sera suggested they indulge in a little dance before dinner. That was received with warm applause and one of Cettie’s favorite pieces was chosen: “Sky Ship’s Cook.” They broke into pairs. When Adam asked Anna to dance, Cettie made herself smile in approval, but she couldn’t watch for long. Then Stephen asked for her hand, and she gratefully joined him. Sera and Trevon led the set.
With one exception, it was about as perfect a moment as could be found. A memory, Cettie knew, that she would always remember. And always feel.
CHAPTER THIRTY−FOUR
RUINS
Sera and Trevon walked hand in hand on the abandoned beach beneath the ruins of Pavenham Sky. The sun had set after dinner in Lockhaven, but Pavenham Sky was far enough west that they got to watch it going down a second time the same day. They went slowly, their shoes crunching on the rough sand. This beach was much colder and more melancholy than the beach of glass beads in Ploemeur, but it was important to them in its own way.
“This is where we first met,” Sera said, looking up at him. “An auspicious moment that went awry in so many ways.”
“Thanks to a clumsy oaf,” Trevon said, chuckling to mask the pain in his voice. “I don’t know what you saw in me.”
Yes, it was painful being there with him, knowing they’d have to part despite the love they’d found for each other. But Sera had learned to lean in to pain. The tide would settle eventually. It always did.
“You caught my eye for some reason,” Sera said. “There was something different about you.”
“I’ve never been handsome,” Trevon said, “so it certainly wasn’t my looks.”
“You are perfectly acceptable to me. And although I wish I were taller, I am tall enough.”
They stopped near the huge fallen Shui-sa tree on the beach. She rubbed one hand along its wet, smooth trunk.
“I used to walk along this shore so many days,” Sera said wistfully, “dreaming of a way out.” She glanced up at his face. “You rescued me from this prison. I’m grateful, to be sure. But it was this experience that brought about the greatest change in my life.”
“What do you mean, Sera?” he asked.
She stared off at the sea, listening for a moment to the crashing of the waves. There was power in water. A certain majesty that couldn’t be explained.
“My father is a direct descendent of the first empress. I was always taught that a person’s lineage was directly linked to their power. Yet I couldn’t work the Mysteries as I thought I should. Failure made me doubt myself. It made me impatient. I was forced to learn patience at Pavenham Sky. I was forced into a state of humility. And yet I learned something else about myself as well. No matter what restrictions they put on me, they could not force my mind to be still. I was sovereign over only one thing, and that was my thoughts. My parents, Lady Corinne, even that loathsome Wizr Jevin . . . they all tried to rule my will. But I could not be ruled by them.” She smiled in a sad way. “I wish I’d known that at Muirwood. I would have learned the lessons much faster. I’d have been much less selfish.”
Trevon let go of her hand and began to climb atop the dead trunk.
“What are you doing?” Sera asked.
“You’ve said before you used to climb up here and walk along this trunk. I wanted to see what it was like.”
“It’s slippery. Be careful.”
“If you could do it, Sera, I think I can manage.”
He reached the top and then took a few steps toward the massive gnarled roots at the end facing the sea, which were probably three or four times his height. She clambered up beside him. It brought back vivid memories, and she could almost hear Master Sewell giving her a halfhearted warning to come down. At her invitation, he had joined the palace staff.
“Could we go to Muirwood tomorrow?” Trevon asked, turning around and facing her on the log.
“If you’d like,” Sera answered. “Do you want to see the apple orchard again before you go?”
“Actually, I was hoping to speak to the Aldermaston,” he said. “I have a peculiar question for him.”
Sera took a few steps closer. “What kind of question? Can I help?” She’d told him about Lady Sinia and how she had been sent by the Knowing to help them. The tale of her abduction had been solved at long last. Trevon had believed her, and they’d shared the news with Prince Kasdan and his wife, who, come to think of i
t, hadn’t seemed all that surprised by the revelation.
“I’m curious,” Trevon said thoughtfully, “if a marriage performed in Kingfountain would still be considered a marriage here in this world. Or would it have to happen again to be just as binding?”
Her heart trembled. “What do you mean?”
His lips were pressed tightly together. Then he asked, “What if I stayed?”
She blinked in surprise. She didn’t dare even breathe.
He took a step toward her. “Look at this devastation,” he said, gesturing toward the ruins spilling around them. “This . . . wreckage that the fissure between our worlds caused. So many lives lost on both sides.” He shook his head sadly. “But I fear that we wrought the greater harm. We were the ones who kept trying to attack. To change your beliefs to better match ours.” He put his hands on his hips. He looked away again. “When I asked to treat with you . . . back when you were a prisoner here . . . I hoped to free you not only from your confinement, but from what I saw as the confinement of your faith. Yet you turned the tables on me, Sera.” He gave her a slow smile. “You asked if I would be willing to give up what I cared about, what I believed in, and adopt your ways. Would it be fair to ask the same of you?”
“I remember that little speech,” Sera said, her heart swelling.
“It wouldn’t be fair to ask it of you,” Trevon said. “My time as a prisoner also taught me that. I worried so much about you. I swore if I ever got free, if I ever found you again . . . that I wouldn’t let us be parted.”
Sera bit her lip, then said, “Trevon?”
“What if I choose to stay?” he asked again. “My brother has proven he is a capable ruler. He’s the one who fought for my throne . . . he’s the one who has earned it. I think the hollow crown would sit perfectly well on his head. I’ve been thinking about this since you told me about the closing of the mirror gates.” He pressed his lips together again. “I’m ready to make my choice. If you’ll have me, I choose you, Sera Fitzempress. I will be your consort. You will be my ruler.”