"Have a wonderful time. I'll be home for dinner tonight."
"I'll see you then. Have a pleasant day, Father." Her practiced smile appeared relaxed, but inside she was as rigid as steel.
The minutes felt like hours as Cianne prowled around her sitting room, waiting for Lach to arrive. Disjointed thoughts ran through her head, fragments of plans, snippets of ideas, but she couldn't focus on any of it, no matter how hard she tried. Would her mind ever be quiet again? How could she be expected to live with the weight of this knowledge crushing her?
I'll be doing something. That will be my salvation. I will join my mother, and I will devote myself to helping her and her allies.
Tempting as it was to track down Vivie and pump her for information about who was a part of their cause, how many allies they had, what sort of resources they commanded, Cianne resisted the urge. She didn't intend to remain in the city for long, and as excruciating as it was to continue with her subterfuge for even a short time, she would bear it, for her own sake and that of her mother. That was the light that shined through the darkness, the knowledge that she had a way out.
Yet her feelings about her mother were also conflicted, that she couldn't deny. While she had understood the logic behind Vivie's explanation, logic could do nothing to soothe her wounded emotions. Her mother had left her without attempting a rescue, abandoning her to the care of plotters and assassins. How could she have trusted Cianne to the man who had tried to kill her? Did she honestly think that a man desperate enough to agree to his wife's murder would make any exceptions for his daughter?
A knock on her door interrupted her train of thought, and she felt the briefest burst of relief, apprehension following hard on its heels. She had no idea what Lach would do when she told him the truth about his father's death. What if she couldn't keep him quiet and he exposed them both? His behavior had been so volatile that she feared he would explode. But what other choice did she have? She owed him at least this much.
Stomach churning, Cianne called out, "Enter."
"Captain Stowley is here," Vivie said, shooting a cautionary glance at Cianne.
She noticed that Vivie was taking care with her finger, but it wasn't splinted, so Cianne must not have broken it. Finger injuries were so common amongst the servants that no one would pay any attention to Vivie's—not that Cianne had been concerned about that when she had attacked Vivie.
"Thank you, Vivie. Show him in."
"Yes, Miss," Vivie said, withdrawing with a bow. She betrayed no visible reaction to Cianne's disregarding her concern.
"Cianne," Lach said, walking into the room and taking her by the hands. He was clean-shaven, his hair brushed back in the neat waves she remembered so well. He was far thinner than he had been a few short weeks ago, and his face still bore evidence of strain, but his condition had improved considerably, surprising her. "I was so pleased to receive your invitation. I had feared that I…" He let his voice trail off delicately.
She bit back the urge to laugh. To think that her worst fear had once been breaking his heart by refusing to marry him. Now she would be the one to destroy every sacred truth he had ever held dear, and her urge to laugh dissolved into an urge to weep.
"I have something to tell you," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.
"I know, Cianne," he said, squeezing her hands and releasing them. "There's no need to put it into words. I understand. I won't pretend it doesn't hurt me, but I've no wish to lose your friendship."
"No, it's not that," she said, the words spilling out in a hasty rush.
He frowned, and her heart ached at his attempt to conceal his wounded feelings. "What is it then?"
"Lach, I… I have no idea how to say this to you," she said, pushing her hair back in agitation. She wrung her hands and paced before the fire, one side of her blazing hot while the other was chilled to the bone.
"Whatever it is, Cianne, you can tell me," he said in a gentle voice.
Swallowing hard, she forced the words out. "You were right about your father. He didn't—"
"Cianne," he said, holding up a hand. His face was smooth, but his features seemed to ripple, like the deceptively placid surface of the seas before a storm. "In my grief I said terrible things, things that weren't true. Things I regret saying. I was out of my head, and I'm learning to come to terms with my loss."
His frank words surprised her, knocking her off course. "No, you weren't. Your father—"
"My father killed himself," he said, his tone so matter-of-fact that Cianne froze, staring at him, her mouth hanging open.
"He killed himself," Lach repeated, his voice softening. "I have to accept that. I have to move on."
"He didn't, though," she said, desperate for him to believe her. "Your mother, my father, the Elders, they staged his death to look like a suicide, but it wasn't. They killed him. They did it because they—"
"Who's been filling your head with such outlandish stories?" he asked, his brow furrowing, face darkening. "Why would you ever believe something so insane?"
"Because it's true," she said, her hands balling into fists in anger and frustration. "Your father didn't kill himself, he was murdered. By my father. And your mother. By the Elders. I heard them talking about it, Lach. All because he found out—"
"Stop right there. Just stop," he said, his voice cold.
"I'm sorry, Lach. I know this isn't easy to hear, but you have to believe me. I would never lie to you about this. You have to know that."
"I know what the truth is."
Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him. Calm, he was far too calm. The ripple was still there, but she could see he was determined to control it, determined to maintain his unruffled appearance.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Shaking his head, he let loose a long-suffering sigh. "I know how much you want to believe your version of the story, how you long to cast House Staerleigh as the villain. You've always questioned the House, have always had trouble accepting your place within it. I was sympathetic to you, I truly was. I thought if I could only help you, I could make you see the role you had to play. I could make you understand that your loyalty and devotion would pay off in the end.
"But that was weakness on my part. You've always been my weakness, you know that? Sweet, lovely, wonderful Cianne. How I adored you. When we were children, you were like the sun to me. I couldn't live without your light. As we got older, as you grew up, as I started to experience this strange sensation of yearning, I realized you had pulled me in so deep I had no hope of ever getting out again.
"My mother warned me. She told me all along that I had best be on my guard around you. She said that you might seem lovely and sweet, but you were treacherous, and that aligning myself with you threatened my position in the House. I laughed her off, thought she couldn't stand to see another woman influence me. I refused to believe anything but the best of you."
"She can't stand my influence," Cianne said, her face reddening with a mixture of confusion and fear. What was happening? Who was this man standing before her, this man she had sworn she knew? Everything about the encounter was grotesque, from the way he was looking at her, to the even tone with which he spoke, to his words themselves.
"Well, I suppose there is some truth to that, isn't there? But the fact of the matter is, Cianne, my mother was right. I see that now. My feelings for you have long been my greatest weakness. They made it easy for me to overlook your flaws, to ignore your lack of a sense of duty to our House, to laugh off your rebelliousness. I misinterpreted them, thinking you were spirited, and I loved it.
"I've been spending a lot of time with the Elders lately, you know. They've explained things to me, made me understand things I didn't understand before. They told me how bad things were becoming for our House, how restrictive the new laws the king and queen wanted to pass were. The nobles were growing increasingly jealous of our successes and wanted to curtail us. We stood to lose so much, and the Elde
rs couldn't tolerate that. It's their sacred duty to look out for our House, to care for us and protect us all.
"And it's not just their duty, but ours too. House above all, Cianne, you know that. You simply refuse to accept it. I thought you were misguided and could be made to see the error of your ways, but your actions have proven otherwise."
The blood drained from Cianne's face. With every word Lach was hollowing her out, scooping out and flinging aside things she had thought were truths.
"You have been my weakness," he said, his voice low, threat creeping into it. "But this is the last time, Cianne. This is the last time I will protect you, the last time I will let you manipulate me. I swear to you, when I return from this voyage, I will never be weak again, especially not where it concerns you."
"Lach," she said, her voice hoarse with desperation. She was sick with terror. Her friend was gone, but she couldn't accept that. She could bring him back. She could make him see reason. She could. She had to. "Can't you see what they've done to you? They killed your father, and they made you think it was necessary, that it was a good thing? You can't believe that, Lach, you can't! You can't believe that's what it takes to show devotion to the House. You can't think such extremes are worth it!"
"Oh, I can and I do," he said. His face spasmed in pain and he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were wet with tears. "Can't you see? My father would have exposed what he had discovered, and the others would have concealed their part and let our House take all the blame. It would have destroyed every last member of the House. How could my mother, your father, and the Elders allow that to happen? I had hoped that you would understand. I had hoped… Sometimes, Cianne, we have to do things that cause us great distress. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the good of all."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. She couldn't believe it of him. She wouldn't. "No."
"Yes. This gives me no pleasure, none at all. I wanted you to be my wife. I would have made you happy, I truly would have."
Her stomach heaved and she thought she might be sick all over his shiny boots. She clamped her hand over her mouth. His eyes pinched in sorrow, he pulled a ring from his finger, the ring containing her lock of hair, and held it out to her. When she refused to take it, revulsion causing her to shudder, he set it on a table with a faint clink.
"Goodbye, Cianne," he said, giving her a sad smile as he headed for her door. "Your secret is safe with me, for now. I have to believe it is still possible for you to reach acceptance, given some time for serious reflection, and I will grant you that. But don't forget what I said. I will conquer this weakness, that I promise you. I have to. I cannot allow you to destroy our House. When we meet again, I trust you will have a new outlook."
As he closed the door behind him, the last piece of her world fell away.
Chapter 32
Worry over Cianne's safety stole any hope of Kila's being able to rest. He paced every inch of his lodgings, its walls confining even as they seemed to shield him from the city's dangers.
What could they do? Kila didn't know if he truly wanted to remain in Cearova. Burl didn't suspect him of anything, so he could continue on as he was. He could take pains to conceal from her his true motivations, continue to work his way into her trust. She was contemplating bringing him in on her participation in House Staerleigh's plans, and if he could worm his way into the inner circle he would be able to provide Chief Flim with invaluable information. He could work from the inside to bring down the trade Houses, to expose their role in the royal family's murder, and do his part to bring about justice.
Was he concerned about that justice, though? And how long could he continue with such a charade? No matter how meticulous he was, Burl was as gifted an Enforcer as he, and he could not guarantee that he wouldn't betray small indications that would eventually lead her to the truth about him. Was he willing to risk his own life for the good of a realm that had never claimed him as one of its own?
What of Cianne? It didn't appear that anyone in her House suspected her, and Vivie was proof that not everyone in House Staerleigh was content to go along with the House's dictates, to trust that the Elders were looking out for their best interests, and to turn a blind eye toward anything that didn't seem quite right. Perhaps Cianne could work with Vivie. She was more of a House insider than Kila could ever hope to be, and she had already proven how effective she was at being a shadow. She could continue to move about the city, collecting evidence and spying on House meetings. It was thanks to Cianne that they had gained the proof they had so far, and with time she would be able to obtain even more.
All of that might have worked had she not insisted that she had to tell the captain the truth about his father's death. Kila understood why she felt it was necessary, had even felt a twinge of envy that the captain had such a true friend in Cianne that she was willing to put herself at great risk to do what she felt was right by him. Yet Kila couldn't bring himself to trust the captain. He could be an invaluable asset, there was no denying that, but would he be able to keep such a thing secret? Would he be able to continue to work with the Elders, to maintain the pretense of a relationship with his mother, all while concealing his knowledge that they had conspired to murder his father? Wouldn't the information eat away at him, erode his conscience until he either unwittingly exposed the truth or did something drastic in order to salve his sense of self? Kila wasn't willing to risk it. Cianne's life was far too precious.
What if the captain doesn't believe her? a voice he wanted to ignore whispered at the back of his mind. What if he blames the messenger and decides to take his grief and rage out on her?
When Kila put it all together, when he considered things from every angle, he knew that only one thing mattered to him: Cianne. What had happened to the royal family was a travesty, filling him with a sense of revulsion. The conspirators deserved to be exposed and brought to justice, but he wouldn't trade Cianne's life for that justice. The thought of her entrapped in the pit of vipers that was House Staerleigh terrified him. Whether to stay or to go was her decision to make, but he wouldn't deny that his worst fear was that she would decide to stay.
"Cianne," he gasped when she came through his door.
Her gaze turned his way, but she didn't seem to see him. Her eyes were wide, the whites luminous, and the look on her face made his blood run cold.
"What is it? Tell me what's happened," he said, closing the distance between them in two swift strides, grasping her arms with gentle fingers. His pulse throbbed with such force it was like a drum, beating out a steady, frantic rhythm.
"Lach, he…" Her voice broke and she swallowed in a huge, gulping sob. "They got to him. I don't know how they did it, Kila, but they convinced him what they did was the best thing for the House, and he's gone along with it." Tears streamed down her face, and his heart fractured.
"I'm so sorry, Cianne. I am so very sorry," he said, drawing her into his arms.
Her sobs broke, her body convulsing with the force of her grief. "He called me his weakness, warned me that he wouldn't be weak when he returns from his voyage."
A ferocious chill froze Kila's bones. "He'll expose you?"
"If I don't prove my loyalty to the House, yes."
Shuddering, he brushed loose strands of her hair away from her face, cupping it and tilting it back so that he could see her. "Cianne, you're in danger. How can you…" His frenzied mind couldn't find the right words.
"I can't," she said. "I can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore. I want to see my mother."
Relief flooded him, sorrow swift on its heels. "Oh, thank the gods. It's not safe for you here anymore."
"It never was," she said, a spasm of bitterness twisting her features.
"I know Captain Stowley was dear to you. I'm sorry that you've lost him."
Tears filled her eyes as she gazed at him, and he swore he could see her every raw emotion, stripped bare and exposed to him. "It hurts, Kila, but I can live with it. What I can't
live with, could never live with, is if something were to happen to you."
He caught her hand as the backs of her fingers brushed his cheek. Turning it, he kissed her palm, her wrist. "I couldn't bear it if something were to happen to you either. I want to beg you to leave the city, but I promised myself I wouldn't. I told myself I haven't that right."
"But if I leave—" she began, her voice choked with agony.
"I'm coming with you. If you'll have me," he said.
Shock widened her eyes even more, and she stared up at him in disbelief. "But, Kila, I didn't… I thought…"
"Cianne, I've been falling in love with you since the first night you broke into my lodgings."
Her mouth twitched at his mention of her uninvited presence in his home, but she still appeared to find his words inconceivable. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say something when I told you how I feel about you?"
"What could I say? What could I offer you? I knew you could never be with me, not while you were a member of House Staerleigh, and I couldn't ask you to defy your House for me. I couldn't ask you to abandon everything you've ever known."
"Kila, there is nothing I wouldn't sacrifice for the chance to be with you. You are the only true friend I have ever had. Do you not know how precious you are to me, how infinitely dear you have always been?"
"You're equally precious to me, which was why I kept my feelings to myself. That may sound strange, but, Cianne, I feared what might happen if we were to run away together, because that's what would have been necessary. What if you grew to resent me for having taken everything from you?"
"Taken everything from me? All you've done, all you have ever done, is give. You gave a wounded little girl a place where she felt safe, where she knew she wasn't alone. You gave a frightened woman a sanctuary, a place where she could be her true self, for once in her life. There is no one else in my life like you, Kila. No one."
A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) Page 24
