Asunder

by Tanya Schofield

  Jayden looked at her, confused. One of his eyelids refused to stay up, giving him a lopsided look. “Wh’re you?” He asked, but his voice was weak. His mouth moved again, but no words came out. His eyes rolled back in his head, his knees buckled, and he pitched forward without a sound.

  Bethcelamin guided his fall to the stone floor, her heart pounding with panic in her chest. “Jayden? Jayden!” A trickle of blood was coming from Jayden’s nose, and his whole body trembled and shook under her hands. Bethcelamin took a breath to cry for help— and stopped.

  He could be dying, she realized, watching her husband’s face as it twitched. There was at least one Healer in Thordike’s keep, she knew, though she wouldn’t blame the girl for refusing to help Jayden. She could heal him herself, Bethcelamin thought, just as she had healed Calder. She didn’t touch him, not yet.

  Don’t, a part of her whispered, the part that hoped his death would release her.

  Be free.

  Freedom? Bethcelamin bit her lip. What freedom? She was a Duchess, they would look to her to take his place. Wouldn’t they? How could she do that? She knew nothing of what he did, or what needed to be done. Lucian should be the one to take over, but he was dead, murdered in the street. Jayden’s Chancellor might have helped, but Garen was gone, and she was glad of that.

  There was no returning to her childhood home— was it even still there? Was Epidii? Those … things that had attacked them in Porthold, the messengers had said they were in the Westlands as well. It was exactly what Jayden had feared. Everything he had done or was trying to do was to stop anything like this from happening again…

  He stopped shaking, and Bethcelamin looked at the tiny trail of blood extending from her husband’s nose across his cheek to where it disappeared in his hairline. His eyelid continued to twitch, his mouth was still twisted in a pained grimace. She laid her hand on his head, and focused.

  As she had done with Calder’s injuries, she breathed deeply and let her fingers search out the pain. Jayden’s was immense. She tried to keep from trembling as she worked, tried not to think of the consequences of her actions… Bethcelamin whispered softly to herself, barely breathing the words aloud, pulling the hurt out of him, bringing him relief.

  Trying to heal the unseen damage in her husband’s head took enormous effort, and her muscles ached with the strain of bringing the long unused energy to bear. When she finally stopped, his face was again relaxed and his breathing was deep and even. It would not be enough, she knew, but it was a start.

  A start she may never have the opportunity to finish, she realized. He would be beyond furious if he knew what she had done. She would say nothing to him, Bethcelamin decided with a deep, shuddering breath. He would wake and his head would no longer pain him, and she would have no more idea why than he did.

  She stood and dampened a cloth with water from the basin, then knelt and washed the blood from Jayden’s face. She looked at the bed, then over to the chaise where he would probably have chosen to sleep. Getting him to either was not going to be easy, Bethcelamin thought, but she couldn’t just leave him on the floor. Neither, though, could she ask for help - Jayden would never want to be seen as weak, or incapable. Especially here.

  With a brief prayer for strength and a hope that he would not wake, Bethcelamin began the slow process of moving her husband’s unconscious body towards the chaise.

  30

  Bashara did not flee to her space in the servants’ quarters, which weren’t far enough away from her Lady’s furious husband for her liking. Was anywhere? She made her way down the back stairs, through the nearly deserted kitchens, and out into the side courtyard that the Healer had told her about.

  There was a garden there, and some low benches under sweeping trees beside a small fish pond. As the Healer had promised, it was calming and beautiful. Her stomach, however, would not stop twisting, and she was still trembling as she sank onto one of the benches.

  “Miss? Excuse me, miss. Are you called Bashara?”

  The maid hastily wiped her cheeks, turning to the timid voice. It was one of the kitchen servants, she thought, judging by the apron.

  “I am, yes. Does my Lady need me?”

  The girl shook her head. “I don’t rightly know, miss, but I’ve a message for you. From one of the soldiers. Orrin?”

  Bashara’s heart leapt in her chest. “Orrin is here?” She looked around, half-standing. “Where?”

  “I can take you to him, miss. It’s not far.”

  The maid went to her immediately. “Please, yes. Is he well? Do you know him?”

  The servant grinned. “He’s new, miss. I don’t know much. Word got around when your Duke arrived, and he asked us to look for you. He was certain you’d be here.”

  Bashara nodded, following the kitchen girl out of the garden and across an open area towards several long, low buildings. In a moment she could see him, silhouetted against a tree.

  “There you are, miss. I’ll keep the kitchen door open for ye to come back.”

  “Thank you so much,” Bashara said, forcing herself not to break into a run. She did speed her pace, though, and in a moment Orrin’s arms were around her and he was spinning her in a circle, his face buried against her neck.

  “My Basha,” he breathed, and she could feel his smile on her skin. The tears that pricked behind her eyes were joy this time, and she clung to him for a long moment.

  “I was afraid I’d never see you again,” she confessed. “And when I saw you’d forgotten the Lady’s letter—"

  Orrin pulled her to him and kissed her words away, and Bashara gasped at the pressure on her lip. The soldier pulled back, tasting her blood. “Basha?” He tucked one finger under her chin and tipped her face up so he could see. “What happened?” he asked, brushing his thumb gently over her bruised mouth. “Who did this?”

  “Duke Korith,” she admitted, but held up her hand to stop Orrin’s response. “Please, let me explain,” Bashara said.

  She took a deep breath and tried to tell him everything all at once. She tried to explain about the Healer and Lady Korith’s injured ankle, which led to her trying to explain about Chancellor Garen and how he had changed and then disappeared, and there was their journey to Estfall where those things could have attacked them at any moment…

  Orrin did his best to follow his love’s rushing words, but he could not stop staring at the brutal tear in her lower lip. “You helped his wife, and he struck you.”

  “No, it was after. I’m fine, Orrin, really.” She clasped his hands in hers, drawing them away from her face. “But what of you, how are you here?”

  “I came here from Paltos,” he said, leaving out the story of how he had saved Chancellor Garen, and then abandoned him. “It was a long journey, but worth the challenge. I arrived two days ago, and I wasn’t the only one seeking a haven in Estfall. I’m building us a life, Basha. You’ll be happy here, Lord Thordike is nothing like Duke Korith.”

  “You’ve sworn fealty, then?”

  Orrin nodded. “He’s a good man, Basha. A smart man, as well, which is a rare combination in a leader.”

  “He does not fear magic, either,” Bashara added. She remembered the Lady Marina’s insistence that a Healer was the best way to care for her Lady’s wounded ankle, and that surely Duke Korith would wish for his wife to be well again, regardless of the means.

  “There is little he fears.” Orrin’s fingers found his ring, still on her hand. “We should be handfasted, Bashara, as soon as possible. I want to be your husband, and know that you are my wife. We can be together here.”

  Bashara’s heart ached. “Oh Orrin, I want that too, I want it more than anything. But Lady Korith …”

  Orrin took a step back, exasperated. “Lady Korith is not helpless, Basha. She is a Duke’s wife, not some abandoned orphan on the streets.”

  Bashara stood her ground. “That’s where you’re wrong, Orrin. She is helpless, and trapped, and her husband is more violent every day. I am the o
nly one who believes her or wants to help her, I am her only friend. If I do not stand by her, who will? And if Duke Korith will do this to me—“ She gestured to her swollen lip. “What will he do to her?” She took a deep breath. “Orrin, I have to see this through.”

  “Through? To what end?” He sighed. “My love, your heart is good and true, but how far will your kindness go? Would you deny yourself happiness, a life with me, a life you say you want?”

  “Orrin, I can’t leave her, she has no one else!” Bashara’s voice was pained. “I do love you, I want us to be together more than anything, but she needs me—”

  “She needs a maid, yes, but why does that have to be you?” He moved closer again, reaching to cradle her face in his hands. “Why put yourself in danger needlessly? I can protect you, Basha, there are positions here for you…”

  Bashara shook her head. “Not yet, Orrin, please. I will. I don’t know when, but I will. It’s just that things are so strange right now, with those … things that attacked us, and they say it’s getting worse. It’s no wonder Duke Korith is so angry.”

  Orrin sighed and wrapped his arms around his love, tucking her head under his chin. “Thordike is smart, to be sure, and he’s preparing for the worst, but … maybe that’s why I don't want to wait much longer. I don’t know what the future may hold. I just know holding you is the only future I want.”

  Bashara leaned up and kissed him, softly. “I’m glad you’re here, Orrin. I will try to think of a way to make that future happen more quickly, I will. I just can’t leave her, not yet. Please, please be patient with me?”

  “I will, my love. But hurry. If Semaj is rising, as they say, I fear things will get much more difficult - for everyone.”

  31

  Five days he’d been gone, and Senna still looked up each time the Inn door opened. She knew it was simply the last customer leaving, that Aggravain had no intention of coming back, but she checked anyway. He’d left the girl and gone, leaving Senna to manage alone - just as he’d done before.

  Funny, she thought, loading her tray with empty mugs. She’d always thought he was the one for her, when they were younger. That they were meant for each other. He’d had other ideas, obviously. Married her twin sister Anna, gotten her pregnant— then disappeared after she and her unborn child were killed by a wild animal. Disappearing was what he did.

  “How is she?”

  Senna nearly dropped her tray. There he was, standing by the door with what passed for a smile on his face. He looked tired. How had he gotten in without her hearing? He was staring at her, and she remembered he’d asked her something. A question. About…

  “Your girl?” she replied. “Still unconscious. Still fevered.”

  His mouth opened, then closed. “She’s not my girl,” he managed to say.

  “Do you want some food? We can talk while you eat.” Senna was already disappearing into the kitchen, and Aggravain ran a hand through his hair before following her. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want to refuse her. Rather, he wanted to explain… but how could he?

  “I don’t know this girl,” he said, standing by the counter as Senna took a seat on the stool by the bed, checking the redhead’s fever with a frown. “I found her. I brought her to you. That’s all.”

  Senna didn’t respond. He wasn’t lying, she guessed, but he certainly wasn’t telling her everything.

  “She’s fighting,” she said, lifting up the bandage to check the wound on the girl’s arm. Senna had been able to use her talents over the past few days to nearly close the wound, and the nightly paste of herbs was preventing any infection. “Harder than I thought she would. The bite is familiar, though. Don’t you recognize it?” she asked, looking over at him.

  Aggravain’s face was pained. “Yes.”

  “I don’t mean Anna,” Senna clarified, rewrapping the wound. The only danger the girl was in now was from the fever. “We were twelve. Your father warned us about the woods at night. You said you weren’t afraid.”

  He nodded. He remembered all too well.

  “You went in after dark,” she said. “For moonflowers.”

  “I was trying to impress you,” ‘Vain admitted.

  Senna turned on the stool, leaning forward and looking up at Agrravain. “Your father had to kill it to get it off of you,” she reminded him. “We all thought it was some terrible creature, but it was just a man. A very sick man, your father said. He said we only imagined it was a beast because things are more frightening in the dark.”

  “He was right,” Aggravain lied, avoiding her eyes.

  Senna shook her head. “Nothing human tore your shoulder apart like that, ‘Vain. I saw it. No man could have done it, any more than a man could have done this to her.”

  ‘Vain kept his silence.

  “You had a fever too,” Senna remembered. “For days, we weren’t allowed near you. Your father was mad with worry, he didn’t think you’d live. But you did.”

  Aggravain stepped closer, staring down at the tiny girl so wracked with fever, the heat of which he knew so well. “It might have been better if I hadn’t,” he said, softly.

  “Stop it.” Senna was not a stupid woman, she understood what he was insinuating, but neither was she foolish. What he was hinting at was impossible. Could he honestly expect her to think that he was … that he had …

  “There is no cure, Senna.”

  She shook her head. “Men becoming beasts? A curse, passed through a bite? Such things are stories, ‘Vain, told to frighten children into good behavior, to keep them safe. Werewolves are not real.” Senna looked into his evergreen eyes, eyes that had once made her world stand still, seeing for the first time a slight tinge of yellow – and she was suddenly not so sure.

  Aggravain did not smile. He did not blink. He offered no argument at all, he only returned her gaze.

  Senna believed. “You’re a…”

  “Yes.”

  She moved faster than even he had expected, standing and backing away from him with both hands clapped over her mouth, stopping only when she felt the counter behind her. Aggravain never moved, he never threatened, but Senna found herself barely able to breathe. It was him. It had been him all along.

  “You bit her.”

  ‘Vain nodded, never taking his eyes from her. “I didn’t mean to.” There was genuine sorrow in his voice when he spoke.

  Senna wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The sound came out as a small, choking, heartbreaking sob.

  He wanted to comfort her, but she would never allow it, not now. He watched as understanding continued to dawn across her pale, frightened face, and saw the very instant she realized—

  “Anna.”

  Now he did look away. The memory was agonizing enough, the accusation and hatred in Senna’s eyes was more than he could bear.

  “Oh Goddess, you killed her. You slaughtered her.” Senna’s legs would no longer support her, and she found herself sitting on the floor without really knowing how she got there. All she could see was ‘Vain, drenched in her twin sister’s blood. “You really killed her.”

  Aggravain’s quiet voice wavered. “When I realized that … When I saw … I didn’t want to live, Senna.” He could smell her tears, layered on top of her shock and fear.

  “You’re a—"

  “Monster. I know. I’ve called myself that, and worse.” He finally looked at her, and the anger in her gaze was a slap in the face.

  “How could you?” Senna asked, her cheeks wet with furious tears. “She was no threat—”

  “No,” he agreed. “The threat was me, it was always me. My father knew - he covered it up, he protected me until the day he died. When he told me … I should have left the moment I knew, gone into the woods and never come out, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

  His words tumbled out - what harm could come of them now? If she had ever felt anything for him, returned any of his feelings - they were gone now. “Don’t you see? I stayed for you, I married Anna to stay close
to you.”

  Senna stared, uncomprehending. “You ignored me,” she reminded him. “You hardly spoke to me after your father died.”

  “I had only just learned what I was,” he said. “You would have wanted answers I didn’t have. Anna was nothing like you, Senna. She was fragile. Shy. She didn’t ask questions.” He took a deep breath. “She was also barren - or supposed to be.”

  “You killed her because she was pregnant?”

  “No!” He raised his voice, and the fevered girl beside him tossed her head, restless. “It was one of the reasons I married her, and not you. I didn’t know if my ... if this … curse … could be passed to a child. I didn’t want to find out.”

  Senna thought she understood that, at least. Everyone thought Anna was barren, even Senna herself. It was the real reason Anna had been unmarried for so long, though the bright birthmark that marred her sweet face didn’t help. No one expected her to marry. Not Anna. Not to Aggravain.

  “Lich’s minions, Senna, don’t you understand? I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you. But after… With the change …” He had worried after his father’s death that she would draw a connection between the attack and his monthly disappearances, but she never did. Eventually, his worry that she would discover what he was, what he became, turned to fear. Fear for her. “I just couldn’t risk hurting you.”

  Her eyes flashed, and she ignored the way her breath had caught when he had admitted his feelings. “But you could hurt Anna? What kind of sick—"

  “No!” ‘Vain interrupted, his voice rough. Senna was surprised to see his eyes were wet with tears. He swallowed, hard, and his voice lowered.

  “Never think I didn’t care for her, Senna, because I did. She was loving and sweet and gentle. I would have given my own life to protect hers. I left to keep her safe, can’t you understand? Each moon cycle I would go to my father’s old cabin. I would tell her I had business out of town, and she would let me go. She never asked where I went, she only prayed for my safe return.” He took several deep breaths, but the ache of memory in his chest did not ease. “I never knew why she came after me that night.”