by Grace Martin
Gwydion stood. His face was as stern as I’d ever seen it. ‘Do you really believe that of me, Emer?’
‘You? No. In fact, you met her, or will meet her, in my own time. You comforted her when she was very vulnerable. You did your best to look after me when I was broken. But you, Aine, when you wanted to get away from Sir Cai, how could I have refused you? When your mother named me Bach Chwaer and I was briefly not in danger for my life, how could I have told the truth and gone back into a featherskin? Even you, Your Majesty, you welcomed me as if I was your daughter. You spoke of your reservations and concerns about the Bach Chwaer. How could I tell you the truth when you openly stated your mistrust of me?’
‘And I?’ Andras asked, his voice breaking. ‘Tell me how I failed you so badly, Emer.’
I clenched my jaw so hard it shook, but I eventually found my voice. ‘We spent night after night on the deck of that ship, standing side by side looking into the dark, on our way to Camaria,’ I said. ‘I thought we knew one another well. I thought we’d developed a level of trust. And then, when we arrived in Ce’Branna, you turned away, ready to send me and Aine to the dungeons until I convinced you we were the Dark King’s daughters.’
When I saw his face, my first thought was “I’m not the nice one,” but another thought followed. I had only spoken the truth. His betrayal had fractured my trust. When I’d crawled out of here in the dead of night, I’d had no intention of even telling him I was going. The only reason he knew was because he caught me.
I’ve said that thought to myself so often, “I’m not the nice one.” Sparrow had said that so many times, and every time she said it, claws dug into my soul. It wasn’t a competition. There was no rule that said there was only enough merit between us to make one good sister. If Sparrow was nice, that didn’t mean I was evil. And I knew, better than anyone, that Sparrow had plenty of her own flaws and faults.
As Caradoc had said to me once, the words we use to ourselves are important. It was time to stop saying such destructive things to myself.
So, I faced Andras head on and let the truth hurt him, because the truth was important. Even if it hurt me to say it too.
I blinked back tears and hated that everyone saw me crying. I wished so much that they would look away and let me lose control quietly, where no one could see.
A tear slipped out of its jurisdiction as I said, ‘I was afraid because I’ve never had a family before. I didn’t know what it was to love someone, or to trust that they loved me. But that’s why I wanted to be honest with you, because you’re all my family now.’
Another tear fell. And another. I smeared them across my cheeks and sniffed. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, and wasn’t sure if I was apologising for the lies, the painful truths, or the tears themselves. I looked away, to avoid eye contact with any of them, wishing I was far away so they couldn’t see my tears. I wished so much that I could shed my misery in private.
But then Gwydion was in front of me and I hadn’t even heard him move. He put his hand on my arm. ‘Nothing to be sorry about,’ he said, his voice deep and gruff.
It was my undoing. The next thing I knew, I was washing my face with tears, but that was okay because I was sobbing into Gwydion’s jacket and no one could see me. That was okay because I’d sobbed into his jacket twice before, and each time had been far worse than this. Once on a terrible day after a terrible night, and I felt more broken than I ever had before, and again when I’d had all hope taken from me, in the Eyrie, high in Cairastel. Gwydion was safe.
And Aine, reaching out now, was safe, too. I leaned my face to the side so I could rest my cheek against hers. My family.
I heard a door close distantly.
‘I’m afraid I agree with Andras,’ the King said.
I lifted my face from Gwydion’s jacket and looked around. Andras had left the room.
‘That was a very convincing show, young woman. Alas, it would be more convincing had you accompanied it by the return of my stolen property.’
‘You don’t understand,’ I said, ready to say that while Umbra’s soul may be trapped in the crystal, that didn’t make her an object to be possessed or stolen, but a person with a right to freedom and choice. And right now, she was choosing to stay with me.
‘I understand enough, Bach Chwaer. I have listened to your side of the story and I am not convinced. It is a dramatic, fantastical tale. It was even entertaining. But there is a far simpler, and far more likely explanation. My children, there is joyous news for today. I had planned to tell you under other circumstances, but justice must take precedence. It is a sad necessity to reveal this great joy in the context of wringing truth from a liar.’
‘I am not a liar.’
‘By your own admission, Emer, you have lied to every single one of us. That makes you, by definition, a liar.’ He turned his attention to his children, standing either side of me. ‘Gwydion, you are aware that when I was exiled from Rheged, I left behind the body of my dead wife, while the woman who murdered her took the throne as Empress.
‘That is to say, I believed my wife to be dead. I learned, just last night, that my belief was unfounded. My wife, threatened by Lynnevet, weak from the birth of her two daughters, fled as I did. Only, I fled to my native Camaria, and she fled to the place where she was raised: the Library of Cairnagorn. My beloved Aine, this news is of the greatest joy to you! Your mother is alive!’
‘Alive?’ Aine gasped.
‘Alive?’ I asked, wrinkling my nose. I had a sneaking suspicion how this was going to end up.
‘Alive!’ the King cried. ‘My beloved Saoirse, step forward from behind the screen.’
There was no way to be sure, only to guess. All Umbra’s heirs looked alike. All dark haired, dark eyed, medium height, curvy silhouette I spent my life trying to control with exercise and which Sparrow controlled with anorexia. The woman before us was definitely one of Umbra’s heirs. Her hair was long, braided and curled in a complex arrangement reaching well past her hips. Her dress was rich, a deep crimson colour and finely decorated as befitted a Queen.
She held out her arms to Aine, who rushed into them, forgetting me, which I suppose was understandable. After a long, motherly embrace, her face twisted with emotion, Saoirse looked up. She smiled a watery smile at Gwydion and held out her hand to him.
I was left there alone, because Gwydion had never turned down a hug in his life.
Eventually, they drew apart, Saoirse wiping the tears from Aine’s face and murmuring sweet nothings I would have given my right arm to have directed at me. The King stood behind them, looking on benignly, as though this were a family portrait and I the artist.
Then Saoirse looked over at me. ‘Emer, you don’t need to stand apart,’ she said. ‘Come back to me, beloved, and we can forget this whole thing ever happened.’
My feet stayed planted in the carpet.
Saoirse detached herself from Aine’s clinging hands and came towards me, her hands open and held out before her. ‘Emer, please, let’s be a family again.’
‘Again?’
‘Again, my darling.’ Her voice was so warm and I wanted a mother so much. But what she was saying made no sense. I took a step back. I’d made my decision.
‘I don’t know who you are, but you’re setting up a lie and I’m done with lies. Why don’t you tell us your real name? What do you really want?
Her face fell. She was a good actor, whoever she really was. She looked like I’d actually hurt her. She even started to cry. The King came up behind her and curved gentle hands over her shoulders. She leaned back into his embrace and he wiped away her tears, even as she turned her face to hide her weeping.
‘Tell her the truth, beloved,’ he urged.
Chapter Five
She wiped her hands over her cheeks for good measure, even though they seemed to be quite dry. ‘My Lord King, my false friend Lynnevet told me you were the one who died that night in Rheged, when I gave birth to our first born and her sister. I fled to the
Library in Cairnagorn while Lynnevet raised my babies as her own. There was…’ and here she paused, a hand delicately shielding her mouth, ‘… a terrible night. An evil Librarian. I could never love anyone but you and he couldn’t stand that. So, he took what I would not give. The result of that terrible night was another baby, whom I named Emer — the young woman who stands before you now.
‘I raised her with love in Cairnagorn. Even if her conception was a crime, she looked just like my other babies and I loved her because she reminded me of the love I had for your babies, husband.
‘But Emer was never an easy child. She challenged every authority, insisted on her own way and didn’t care whom she hurt. She always had to be the centre of attention. Last year, her behaviour was out of control. I did the only thing I could do. I went to Master Darragh and asked him to clothe my youngest girl in a featherskin. I had to keep her safe from herself. Even then, she was unrepentant. I had to send her away, but even then, I had a mother’s love for her baby.’
The soft hand she lay against her breast was very convincing.
‘She had to leave my nest, but I sent her to Rheged, with Master Darragh to look out of her, so that she could at least get to know her half-sisters. But Master Darragh betrayed me. I had no idea what manner of evil creature he truly was. And by then Lynnevet had taken the last vestige of good in my youngest girl and turned it to her own purpose, naming my own baby her Bach Chwaer instead of the rightful heir to the throne.’
I just looked on, despite this masterful tale. I’d had my suspicions, and now they were confirmed.
‘What a sad, lonely life you must have led,’ I murmured. ‘To have so much hate for me that you would tell such lies. I feel truly sorry for you, Your Majesty, when I thought I could never feel pity for you.’
‘Keep your pity,’ she spat, forgetting her role for a moment in her incandescent anger against me. She glanced quickly at the others to find them a little struck by her vitriol. She carefully modulated her voice. ‘I don’t want your pity, Emer, I only ever wanted your love.’
‘And that’s the shame of it. I could have loved you. We’re family. You are, after all, my aunt, Aoife.’
‘Aoife!’ Aine cried. ‘Emer, that’s ridiculous. Aoife is my age — our age.’
‘No, Aine. And, yes, Aoife right now is your age. But in my time, more than twenty years from now, Aoife, like yourself, is older. The woman pretending to be your mother is your sister. She is from my time. She came back through the Portal with me. She is Aoife, but not as you know her. Not the Princess of the Thousand Counties, but the White Queen, the Thief of the Throne.’
‘Oh, Emer, what terrible words come out of your mouth! You slay me, truly.’ She bent her face into her hands and sobbed. Again, the King took her into his arms, stroking her shaking shoulders.
I knew I didn’t have long. She’d have to keep crying for a little while, to keep up the pretence, but once she stopped sobbing, she’d go for what she wanted. I knew what that was, and I wasn’t going to give it to her.
‘Aine, you must believe me. And even if you don’t, you need to do the right thing. I know you’ll do the right thing. Aoife, young Aoife, will take the throne. She will exterminate the Camiri in the Thousand Counties because they refuse to accept her as Queen. She will hunt down every Librarian and every mage until her Dragon Magi are the only people in the Thousand Counties with magic. I saw a child burned to death because she had magic, Aine. With my own eyes. You need to stop her. You will become the Dark Queen. You need to become her nightmare if the world is ever to see the dawn again. And, Aine,’ I reached out for her hand. She let me take it, but it lay unresponsive in my own palm. ‘If you see my son, please take him in as your own. He has never had a mother and you could be a wonderful mother to him. And my sister, my Sparrow, her name is Elisabeth now. She and Rhiannon came back with me through the Portal.’
‘Rhiannon!’
I nodded. ‘Yes, Aine. Three years older than me and more sarcastic than I could ever be. Aoife held her prisoner her whole life, and I believe it was Aoife who had her face branded with sorrow signs. She’s a grown woman, but like you and I, she still needs her mother.’
The next thing I knew, the Queen’s hands were there, slapping down over Aine’s and my linked hands, severing the connection between us.
‘Don’t you dare spread your lies to my daughter!’ she shrieked. ‘You leave her alone, leave her alone, leave her alone…’ her voice collapsed into sobs again.
‘Stepmother, please, calm yourself,’ Gwydion urged, his voice soft and deep. ‘There is no threat here.’
I was stunned by the cold, stern face he turned to me. It made me quail. I’d never seen him look like that before. Never. ‘We will not believe her lies again.
‘Gwydion, no!’
‘Be silent. It is only because you are my sister that you are not already swinging from a gibbet for your crimes.’
‘Crimes?’ I gaped, while the Queen smirked.
Gwydion nodded. ‘Your lies were treason. And the night you stole Umbra you proved yourself to be a faithless thief.’
‘Gwydion, please, no, it wasn’t like that-’
He didn’t interrupt me. I cut myself off because he raised a hand as if to strike me. I cringed. His eyes narrowed and I cowered.
I looked around the room. The window. I ran towards it, ready to fling myself from it, turn myself into a bird and fly away from that terrible, hard gaze and that hand raised to strike me.
The Queen caught me, fingers gripping my upper arm like a vice and flinging me around in a circle with my own momentum. She brought me around until we were face to face.
‘Where is Umbra?’ she demanded, her tears forgotten. ‘Return what you stole, Emer!’
I was at fault, not Umbra. I was too overwhelmed by emotions I’d never had to handle before. Umbra knew what I was feeling and right now I was full to overflowing with feelings. The joy I’d felt reuniting with my family, the desire I’d felt reuniting with Andras, and following closely, dismay, disappointment, and now, fear.
Right in front of the White Queen, Umbra flashed in my brow. Aoife screamed. Her grip on me was lost as she fell backwards, her eyes open and fixed. I thought for a moment I’d killed her, until I saw the ragged rise and fall of her chest, beneath the burned flesh of her hand that she cradled against her body. Even Gwydion goggled.
The King shouted for his guards. Of course he did. What else could he do? Even if he believed me, I was clearly out of control and a danger to those around me.
Five minutes after that… I was not in a dungeon. Instead, he sent me to my room, like a naughty little girl. Only the guards outside the door were a testament to the fact that I was a naughtier girl than most.
So, Aoife was pretending to be the dead Queen, Saoirse. And all the others apparently believed her. She had to be working with her younger self and Kiaran. They had waited for me in Cairnagorn. Aoife had travelled ahead to Ce’Branna, perhaps to stop me should I come this way, perhaps to destroy Aine.
Either way, it seemed like all the others believed her over me. I’d thought of these people as family. Even if I hadn’t known Aine was my mother, I would have loved her as a friend. No one could fail to love Gwydion. Andras wasn’t an easy man to care for, but I felt comfortable with him in a way I hadn’t felt comfortable with anyone except Caradoc.
Or had felt comfortable. He’d walked out on me, even before Saoirse showed up. The look in Gwydion’s eyes as he raised a hand to strike me… it would be a long time before I forgot it.
I was surprised again when my dinner arrived and it was Andras carrying the tray. He spoke softly to the guards and they closed the door behind him, locking us in together. He set the tray carefully on a table before slowly looking around. He covered the whole room before his gaze settled on me.
I let him speak first.
He nodded at me. ‘That dress looks good on you.’
I said, ‘Thanks,’ when I could just as easily ha
ve told him to piss off. He looked splendid in his uniform, after all, and I’d never said as much to him.
There was an uneasy silence.
He broke it first. ‘I heard you attacked your mother.’
A nerve ticked in my jaw. His eyes slewed to watch it. ‘I attacked my aunt,’ I said. The King had called me a liar and it hurt, but it wasn’t wrong. I had lied to everyone. I was a thief. I’d stolen Umbra, even if she wasn’t an inanimate object and belonged with me anyway. The fact remained that I hadn’t trusted them with the truth and I’d snuck out of here in the dead of night, taking with me the King’s most prized possession.
‘It sounded like a very complicated story,’ he went on.’
I shrugged. ‘Dunno.’ I was so articulate; it was hard not to believe me.
Andras grinned. Just for a moment, just a flicker before it faded, but at least I could see that I had reached him.
‘Why did you come back?’ he asked.
He wanted me to say I’d come back for him, that I’d been lonely, that my life was lacking without him. It was going to hurt him again when I admitted I hadn’t come back for his sake. I’d gone from Ce’Branna to Rheged, straight into Caradoc’s arms and not thought of Andras for quite some time.
And yet, all my reasons seemed both petty and grandiose at the same time. I wanted to stop Aoife, because we had this stupid feud between us. I wanted to stop the war that was to come. I wanted to save David. I’d cherished vain hopes of saving Lynnevet.
It wasn’t completely untrue, though. I had come back for him, but no more for him than for Aine and Gwydion and the King. When I’d been here before, Andras hadn’t given me much sign that he liked me. He was a reserved man, unlike Caradoc, whose feelings were never a secret. Andras had held back his feelings for me until the moment I left and even then, he hadn’t been explicit. Any connection between us had to be read by the quality of his silences. The way he sought me out, kept me company when I was hurting.
