Shattered Kingdom

by Angelina J. Steffort

  She flinched but didn’t complain. “He came out of nowhere,” she said, sounding not even half-convincing. “And then he locked me in that cell and left me to rot… I think.”

  Armand’s lips pulled up at one side as if he found her lie adorable. “You need to lie better if you want to lie to me, Gandrett.”

  He looked so different from the way Addie remembered him, now in black pants and a blue tunic instead of the silk pajamas, but hair still disheveled as if he’d just climbed out of bed. There was something heartbreakingly beautiful about this amused, caring side of him—despite the fact that he was caring for someone else, and the sorrow in his face had vanished only for a brief moment.

  “Maybe you want to enlighten us—” he turned to look at Addie, those eyes inquisitive, “I never asked for your name.”

  Addie shifted in her chair, suddenly very much aware of the rags she was wearing. But she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. “It’s Addie.” She considered bowing her head but decided that for this one moment, while she was sitting at his grace, she would not be the servant girl but the one who had rescued Gandrett from the man whom she had denied help once.

  The guilt rumbled in her chest as she held the young lord’s gaze.

  So she told the story of how she had been on her way to get something for Lady Linniue—she left out the details of her routine to go to the hidden well—when she had heard Gandrett’s call for help. Of how they’d heard footsteps, of how Gandrett had asked her to get him.

  But Armand wasn’t satisfied. “That’s all?”

  Addie nodded, so he turned back to Gandrett and dipped the cloth in the bowl again and dabbed it along the bridge of her nose, seeming absorbed.

  “Addie, why don’t you go take a look at how Joshua is doing?” he said without taking his eyes off Gandrett’s face.

  Addie got to her feet but hesitated. “He’s deep asleep, isn’t he?” After seeing in what shape he had left Gandrett, she had no desire to be next on his list. And after having denied him help once—

  “Deelah gave him something, so he’ll be asleep for a while. Plus there are guards right by the door. And the passageway is open. So if you call, someone will come, whether it’s me or my men at the door.” It was clear by the way he said it that she was dismissed.

  So Addie pulled up every ounce of courage she could muster and headed for the young lord’s chambers.

  His gaze was a weight on her heart. Not because there was pity in it or concern but because of the infinite tenderness as he touched the moist cloth to her cheek, then to the corner of her mouth, and along her lower lip, which she must have split when she had hit the ground face-forward.

  “What’s really going on, Gandrett?” he asked, his voice a low melody, almost singing to her to trust him. “What did you do to my cousin to end up in our ancient dungeons?”

  Gandrett froze. “What did you just say?” She didn’t care for whatever appearance she was supposed to keep up. He had seen her in a dress that she had soiled herself in. He had seen her bloody and distraught. And now he was tending to her wounds—almost like a friend.

  Armand pulled back his hand and rested it on his thigh, eyes alert. “What did you do to end up in the dungeons?” he repeated.

  “Not that,” she gestured with her good hand. “The other thing.”

  He squinted his eyes, trying to read her, but Gandrett didn’t have much strength left before she’d black out from exhaustion, and she wasn’t going to waste it on trying to feign patience. “The other thing about Joshua being your cousin.”

  Armand didn’t respond, face hardening as if he were damning himself for having said too much.

  “You are aware what Joshua’s last name is?” She couldn’t stop herself. It was almost the same way it had overcome her when she was provoking Nehelon. The image of the Fae male’s incinerated blade flashed through her mind. Magic. She had done that.

  Armand probed her gaze as if trying to read whether it was worth lying to her.

  “Brenheran,” she answered for him. “His name is Joshua Brenheran.”

  Armand didn’t look the slightest bit shocked.

  He knew.

  Of course he knew. He had been behind it from the start. He had hidden Joshua when the Brenheran mercenaries had tried to free him under Nehelon’s command. He—

  “You’re shaking, Gandrett,” Armand noted, voice calm, controlled.

  He dropped the cloth in the bowl, laced his fingers together, then took a deep breath as if he needed to build up courage before he closed his eyes and said, “What if I tell you I am not who you think I am?”

  Gandrett had expected many reactions, but not this one. “Then, who are you, Armand Denderlain?” Her face exploded with pain as she grimaced at him, but she didn’t yield. “Is that even your real name?”

  His eyes shot open, all the worry gone, the hazel-gold that was left so vulnerable it smothered Gandrett’s rising anger.

  “Yes, it is my real name,” he said, his lips curling at the sides for a moment, “and yes, I am the rightful Lord of Eedwood and regent over the east of Sives—in theory.” He sighed through his nose, probing Gandrett’s gaze as if expecting her to slap it. “But I am not the man the world thinks I am. I don’t ride out there to strike down those villagers who defy my father’s rule, I don’t kill for pleasure. All I want is peace for Sives.”

  His words filtered through the haze in Gandrett’s head, but they didn’t make sense. Not yet.

  Yet, he didn’t halt to give her time but poured out his heart, “By bringing my cousin home, I am fulfilling my mother’s wishes for a peacefully united Sives.”

  “How can he be your cousin if…”

  “Aunt Linniue and Lord Tyrem Brenheran,” he simply said. “She gave up her throne when she was pregnant with Joshua and left it to my mother with the promise to, one day when Joshua was old enough, allow him to rule in Eedwood as king of Sives.”

  His words hung heavy in the air. So heavy that Gandrett didn’t dare speak.

  “My aunt took ill when Joshua was a baby, and she gave him to his father to look after. Of course, a marriage between the two houses was something unthinkable. It has been a thousand years since Sives has last seen a king, and with his Denderlain and Brenheran blood—Joshua is the rightful heir to both thrones and could be king of Sives. A true king.”

  It took Gandrett a while to process. If this was true, she had been sent on a fool’s errand. If Joshua Brenheran—Joshua Denderlain—was the rightful heir to both reigning houses of Sives, this could be the end of war.

  Then she remembered how Joshua had threatened to kill her—for what? What had she done, except for calling him by his name, that he had locked her up and threatened to kill her? Would someone like that be a good ruler? Either as lord over the west of Sives or as its king.

  “But he is dangerous.” Gandrett knew from the way Armand looked at her that after what he saw in the cell, he wasn’t convinced Joshua was the dangerous one.

  “You tell me, Gandrett,” he said with some heaviness. “Who attacked who down there?”

  “He locked me up in a cell and left me to rot,” she bit at him.

  “Why?” Armand demanded. A simple question, one that she had asked herself a moment ago.

  “I don’t know.” She folded her arms across her chest.

  “Joshua doesn’t just attack people,” Armand claimed, “I have spent enough time around him to know he isn’t a bad man.”

  “A good man wouldn’t want to kill me,” she countered.

  “What did you do to earn his disfavor?” Armand asked, all gentleness gone from his voice.

  Gandrett swallowed. Could it be that there was more at stake than even Nehelon knew? That maybe Joshua didn’t want to return?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The room was like the young lord himself. Elegant threaded with amusement and a heaviness that pushed down on Addie’s shoulders like a boulder of granite. Vases with small, colorful flo
wers sat on every surface like little suns to contrast the dark tapestries. The four-poster bed was beautiful, carved, and covered in Denderlain-blue silk sheets. She didn’t dare look there for longer than a second, for on the couch by the window, Joshua Brenheran started twitching.

  She inched closer, uncertain if it was wise to be within the man’s reach.

  His eyes were closed, features relaxed. Only his fingers and toes moved every now and then as if he were having a nightmare.

  So she decided to be brave and pulled up a chair to sit beside him.

  He appeared younger than that time she had refused him help. Shame crept up on her together with the painful realization that if she had aided him back then, Gandrett might have been spared.

  His tunic had been unbuttoned halfway down his chest, exposing bandages covering the heavy burn marks she had spotted on their way up here. What was visible of his chest was smooth skin stretched over hard muscle. The body of a trained fighter covered in the elegant clothes of a noble.

  Addie averted her gaze and rolled her feet back and forth to pass the time.

  The young lord had undoubtedly kicked her out because he had things he wanted to discuss with Gandrett in private. They would make a beautiful pair, the two of them. She could almost see them strolling through the castle together, the young lord with his elegant, cunning stride and Gandrett with her graceful, feline movement. And the thought of it hit her right in the heart.

  Don’t be silly, Addie. She folded her hands in her lap and looked out the window where the clouds were slowly turning pink and orange in the morning light. Beneath, the Eedpenesor snaked through the landscape in curves of sparkling gold. She absorbed the images, archiving them for the dark hours of her life that were sure to come once she returned to Lady Linniue empty-handed.

  A groan breaking from Joshua’s lips made Addie tear away from the beauty of the lands that she was never to walk again.

  When she found Joshua’s face, he was blinking his eyes open. Two glazed, emerald disks that searched the room as if unseeing.

  “What…” He coughed and grimaced, the peaceful rest gone from his features. “Where…?”

  He tried to prop himself up on his elbows and failed, ungracefully plunging back into the silver-threaded pillows.

  Eyes slowly focusing, he glanced to where Addie had shrunk back into her chair, praying to Vala he wouldn’t attack her.

  “You…” He lifted a hand and reached for her, making Addie almost topple over with the chair. But the look in his eyes changed to that haunted gaze he’d given her when he had pleaded for her help.

  “There are guards outside,” she said, a promise that if he as much as lifted a finger against her, she’d scream for them.

  He rolled to the side, groaning through gritted teeth until he was half sitting up. “Help me,” he whispered and grabbed her hand with what seemed to be agonizing effort.

  There was no aggression in his eyes, nothing of the man Gandrett had been so afraid of but fear. Authentic, deep-rooted fear.

  Addie’s heart pounded in her chest, threatening to break her ribs. The words were there on her tongue. I can’t. But she had spoken them before, and she could not face herself another minute if she repeated that mistake.

  “What are you so afraid of?” The words came out in a mutter, hardly seeing the light of day, but it was enough to let Joshua Brenheran rest his back against the sofa and exhale a stuck breath.

  “Where are we?” He searched the room for details, and when his eyes fell on a portrait of the young lord with his mother hung near the secret door, he found his answer. “Armand Denderlain’s rooms?” His face was incredulous. “What am I doing in Armand Denderlain’s rooms?”

  Addie heaved a breath, finding that if she wanted to do it right this time, she had to get answers. And in order to get answers, sometimes you had to offer some truth yourself.

  “We found you in the dungeons,” she said and smoothed out her rags over her thigh. She couldn’t remember the last time she had worn real clothes. “I am not certain what happened exactly, but you were injured.” It was the truth. Other than that Gandrett had been locked in that cell earlier and both of them had been in really bad shape when she and Armand had gotten to them, there was hardly a detail she knew, other than, “Is it true you locked Gandrett in the dungeons?”

  Joshua’s eyes tightened with realization. A realization he seemed to not particularly enjoy. “So that’s her name?” He reached to his side, to the now-empty spot at his sword belt, and Addie glanced to the secret passageway, debating whether to call Armand now or wait until she had gotten something of worth from Joshua.

  “Who else knows I’m here?” he asked, gaze suddenly full of fear again.

  Addie leaned forward a tad, trying to read the depths of his eyes. What was going on in his mind? Why beg for help then lock up a defenseless lady?

  “Just the young lord, Gandrett, and I.”

  The expression on his face didn’t relax. “He’s not going to tell her, is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Armand,” he clarified. “Tell my mother.”

  Addie scratched her temple as she tried to understand how the young lord would be able to inform Lady Crystal Brenheran of anything.

  “You’re aware I am a servant in this house and I don’t have communication privileges with the outside world,” she merely said.

  Joshua’s eyes did that thing with the realization again. “Not Lady Brenheran,” he whispered. “My mother—Linniue Denderlain.”

  Addie’s heart stuttered to a sudden halt.

  “It’s a secret,” he said through gritted teeth as he pushed himself forward and rested his elbows on his knees, face oddly close to Addie’s. “No one knows but Linniue and Armand. Even Lord Hamyn is oblivious of my Denderlain blood.” He spat the words as if it was a stain on his soul.

  The fear in his eyes was still there, so Addie repeated, “What are you so afraid of?”

  He reached for her hand and clutched it as if she was a lifeline. Addie didn’t dare pull it back as she studied the scabbed knuckles. It wasn’t a fresh injury. “It’s happening over and over again. I lose control over my mind, my body. Almost as if someone else were commanding my actions.”

  Addie saw the conflict flash across his features, his eyes turning a shade darker with the pain of his story.

  “When that girl—Gandrett—” He coughed again from the strain of sitting up. “When she followed me into the depths of the north tower, I was compelled to get rid of her.” Shame filled his features, and he slowly shook his head then cursed at the pain it caused him. “As I am compelled to get rid of anyone who finds out about me.”

  Addie realized it might be time to call for aid, for everything he was telling her now meant he’d need to rid himself of her later.

  His hand tightened around hers as he read the fear in her eyes. “No, please,” he murmured. “Please, don’t run from me.” His voice was soft, soothing. “Who else can I trust in this castle but someone who has nothing to gain from my presence?”

  His words stung and comforted her at the same time.

  “When I asked you for help last time, I had one of those rare moments of clarity when I am in charge of my own mind and thoughts. Why do you think I did anything to avoid crossing your path afterward?”

  Addie didn’t have an answer. All she could do was stare at those emerald eyes as they helplessly searched hers for answers.

  “I wanted to spare you so if I ever got a moment like that again, you would still be around, so I could convince you to help me.” He loosened his grasp on her hand as if intending to let go but lingered. “I didn’t let myself think about our encounter. I convinced myself you didn’t exist, that it had been a dream. All of it so once I was back under that spell—whatever it is—I wouldn’t sell you out to myself.” He searched for words. “That I wouldn’t sell you out to that version of myself that seems compelled to stay at this castle and keep my identity hidden, no matter
the cost.”

  Addie slowly withdrew her hand and sorted her thoughts. “And now, you are having one of those rare moments?” she simply asked.

  There was nothing between them but the raw words spoken. He didn’t look at her as the servant she was, and she didn’t see a noble but a man in need of help. A man who was about to break apart from the fear of losing control over his own self.

  “Now is one of those rare moments.” His eyes shone with gratitude for merely hearing him out, for not trying to run, for not calling for guards.

  “And in the cells?” Addie’s voice shook with tension.

  “Compelled to kill her. I didn’t kill her the first time I had the chance.” He glanced at the scabbed knuckles of the hand that had released hers. “It was all I could do to keep in control, rather hurt myself than kill her. And I managed to convince my compelled self that locking her up to kill her later was acceptable.”

  Horror filled his features as he looked into the past. Addie didn’t dare interrupt.

  “If she hadn’t stopped me…” His voice trailed away.

  Addie felt her heart ache for the young man before her. So strong, and yet that strength meant nothing if he wasn’t in control of it.

  “Do you know what it’s like watching yourself harm someone? Not being able to stop?” The haunted look returned to his features.

  This time, it was Addie who reached out for his hand, gently brushing her dirty fingers over his wrist. “I am sorry.”

  He looked at her. Really looked at her. And his emerald eyes tightened ever so slightly. “Who would have thought that my mother’s servant would become my trusted ally?”

  Addie knew he wasn’t asking for an answer, and she didn’t have one except for that one truth she had no one in this castle. That she, as much as he, was a prisoner here.

  “How badly is she hurt?” he asked, shame yet again on his features. Addie could read him so easily. Every emotion plain on his face as if his features were the clouds in the skies, telling by their color and shape whether they would begin to storm and rain or pass and leave sunshine.