Chapter Forty-Four
Cara
MAVIAN'S SITTING ROOM was filled with chaos. The Lady Seastone screamed as Renna drew a dagger and ran at the stairwell. Druam raced into the room with a drawn sword. Mavian stood with his hands spread, ready to use his dark magic.
It happened too quickly for Cara to stop it. She shouted at Renna, but her lady didn't listen. Renna ran at Druam, and his sword slammed into her. Cara watched, time rushing past despite her agony.
Renna fell prone to the ground, and Cara raced to her, her scream lost in the confusion. She cradled her lady, barely aware of everything else around her. Stroking Renna's face, Cara whispered, "I'm sorry for everything I said, I should have listened."
A rattling breath came from Renna's bleeding mouth. Her blue eyes stared past Cara. Still Cara cuddled her, praying to all the gods that her lady might live. She couldn't have said which breath was Renna's last, for each came slower and softer. Cara keened over her lady's body.
"Not now, not when I've just found you," she mumbled. She didn't care anymore that Renna had abandoned her fief, nor that she wanted to go with the Hooded Man. As long as Renna was alive, they had a chance of becoming friends again. Death was too final to allow for forgiveness.
From the corner of her eye, Cara saw the battle between Mavian, Druam, and Gwen. She didn't try to intervene or help either side. Suddenly, a black tentacle erupted from the void behind Mavian. It moved too rapidly, and curled around Renna. Cara cried out and tried to stab at it with her feeble dagger, but it didn't even cringe from her blade.
Before Cara could blink, the tendril took Renna from her. She knelt in blood and watched as her lady was brought into the blackness for the second time.
I failed her, Cara thought. All my friends died for nothing.
Cara stood before Earl Seastone and the king in the earl's study that night, her head clouded with grief. Lady Seastone was safe, and she was thankful for that, but her melancholy allowed for no more thought.
"Why were you in Mavian's chambers?" the king asked without preamble. Even in his dressing robes, his presence spoke of well-earned command.
"I needed his advice," Cara said dully. The events in the tavern felt like a lifetime ago. "And then I saw Renna."
"Your lady?"
Cara nodded. "She told me that Mavian was the Hooded Man, and that she went with him willingly. They used a spell to disguise her as another noblewoman."
"Maeria Westerburg," said Earl Seastone. He stood by the windows. "We were all fooled."
"And you claim to know nothing of this, Seastone?" demanded King Henrik.
The earl glared at his king. "I have known Mavian from when he was a boy, yet I never could have imagined this. He tried to hurt my wife, Henrik. You think I would condone such a thing? He wanted her to betray me."
"Easy, Druam," said Henrik. He rubbed at his temples. "I meant no offense."
Cara stared at the desk, her eyes aching from tears. She wished only to go to bed. But if I go to bed, I'll sleep where Alex has been. It was all too much to bear.
"You killed her," she said softly, her eyes meeting Druam's before flicking away.
The earl nodded gravely. "She threatened my wife; I had no choice. But I am sorry."
Beneath his blank exterior, Cara saw a hint of remorse. She would reckon with him someday, but not that night. She nodded and went back to staring at the table.
"Mavian has shown his hand now," said Druam. "He intends to overthrow us with the prowlers at his command, and whatever other dark magic he possesses. If his claim of allies in the court is true, then we must find these traitors before it's too late."
The king let out a long, low sigh. "Conspiracies within conspiracies, lies within lies. Will it ever end, Druam?"
"I dearly hope so." Druam turned to Cara. "We will need you before this is done. You are sulpari, one of the few capable of matching the prowlers' strength."
"I can't help you." Cara didn't meet his eyes. "I'm not strong enough."
The earl knelt beside her chair. "Look at me." She obeyed. "Listen to me. There are many forces at work here which we don't understand. But we will need you, and you will be strong enough."
"How do you know?"
Druam smiled at her. "Because heroes always find a way."
The king lumbered to his feet. He yawned, and said, "Let's convene in the morning. We have much to discuss."
"Indeed we do," said Druam. He and the king began to walk away.
Even in the depths of her despair, Cara knew that she had to tell them about Alex. She turned and said, "Before I went to Mavian, I went to the dockside taverns. I saw–"
Druam spoke over her, "Whatever it is can wait until morning. Rest now, Cara. I'll send for you once you've had time to rest."
The two powerful men left her. They didn't listen, Cara thought. Why wouldn't they listen?
Someone must have remembered that she was still in the study, for a steward showed up some time later and offered to walk her to her rooms. Though she wanted to be anywhere else, Cara followed him. She was too tired to protest.
As she entered, she wished she had been strong enough to request something else. Fresh flowers in vases decorated the whole sitting room, but those weren't what she regretted.
Alex waited for her. He had washed and dressed in simple cotton clothes. Cara thought about turning and running, yet she knew she'd have to talk to him at some point. Might as well be now, when I'm too tired to censor myself.
Cara looked away from Alex and went to pour herself a glass of wine. Mercifully, he remained quiet until she turned to face him again.
"You lied to me," she said.
He shrugged, a hint of his carefree smile playing about his lips. "I did."
"Did you ever think about telling me?"
"Every minute we spent together, and even the ones apart." Alex walked to her then, but stopped an arms-length away. "I'm sorry, Cara. I wanted to tell you, but I never could find the words. And I couldn't forget how you spoke about the fampir as evil things."
"Are you evil?"
"Who knows?" He gave her a bittersweet smile. "I lust for blood. I need it to survive. It's horrible, but when it comes over me...I can't stop it. You can understand that, can't you? But you're still mortal, you can live without killing. Not that I kill every time; we do try not to if we can help it."
Cara clutched at the goblet in her hand, though the liquid inside sloshed as her hands trembled. Every time she looked at Alex, her heart fluttered. She wanted so, so badly for everything to be as it was.
"Who is 'we'?" she asked.
"The fampir of Riverfen. Myself, Master Eigbrett, Shepherd Marin...and my brothers."
"Surely not the earl," Cara said. He had seemed so wise, so caring, so...so old, now that she thought about it.
"Druam created me," Alex said. "A hundred and seventy years ago. But he and Verdon were brothers before they became fampir, many more centuries before that. He built Riverfen and the Cascade Palace, he made the traditions of the lanterns."
Cara's throat constricted. She stared at her wine, unable to look at Alex for fear of breaking. "Someone would have noticed an immortal earl."
"Some did. They were bought or silenced. But Druam has a gift for mental manipulation, just as I have a gift for persuasion. He always goes into seclusion to 'die,' then returns as his own son. Most people believed it with his fampir talents. Sometimes Verdon would take his place, or myself. But Druam has always been the better ruler."
Cara merely nodded, not particularly caring about the earl's tricks. It wasn't him that had seduced her and lied to her. She glanced at Alex, and her heart stirred. She had held him against her, comforted by his presence. He had taught her, laughed with her, saved her from her darkest moments.
"When I found you, I thought I was dreaming," Alex said. "For the longest time, you were only a concept in my head, a word in my journals. The real you was incredible: strong and brave, but also gentle and compassiona
te. And you had the beast inside, like me. Can you blame me for falling for you?"
Cara's eyes brimmed, and she wiped them angrily. She had thought the same things about him.
Alex said, "The sulpari were first created to stop creatures like me. But you don't have to be like that. You don't have to kill us."
Cara laughed bitterly. "I couldn't do it even if I wanted to." She knew it to be true the moment the words left her lips. She couldn't kill him after all he had done for her.
Silence built between them. After a minute, Alex took a step toward her, hands held out, pleading. She stepped back, still trying not to look at him.
"Are we so different?" Alex asked. His green eyes held decades of loneliness. "I have never met anyone like you. Autorus' gift beats in both our hearts. Can't we enjoy it together?"
Unconsciously, Cara drifted toward him. It wouldn't be so bad, she thought. Then she stopped herself. "Don't use your fampir gifts on me."
"I'm not. I'm speaking honestly as a man who loves a woman."
There it was: love. That morning, she thought she loved him. Her skin ached for his touch, her heart yearned to be near him. But could she trust him after such a tremendous lie?
"Is it even possible for the undead to love?" Cara asked, playing for time. If she didn't send him away soon, she knew she would give in. Just a few more moments, then he'll be gone, she promised herself.
"Beneath this monster, I am still a man. Please, Cara. I promised never to leave you; please don't abandon me. I can't change what I am, but–"
"But what? What will happen when I grow old and die, and you continue into eternity? Will you find another gullible girl to tumble?"
"It's not like that and you know it." Alex closed the gap and took hold of her arm. She finally looked at him, and her heart trembled at his sorrow.
"I don't know anything anymore," Cara said. "Everyone I ever loved betrayed me. You could do it again, so easily. You'll make a plaything of me."
He flinched away, his green eyes wounded. Cara pressed him, "How many mortals have you taken to your bed? How many that thought you loved them?"
"Would you expect me to be abstinent for all my long years?" Alex snapped back. "Yes, I took mortal and fampir girls to bed. Men, too, when the mood took me. And I did love some of them. I mourned for many years after they passed. But never have I known what I feel for you. You complete me, as none of the others ever have. I didn't understand Druam's letters when he spoke of Gwen, and his depth of emotion for her, but I do now."
Cara stared up at him, her cheek flushing where his breath touched it. It would be so, so easy to give in now.
But I can't forgive him, she realized. Even as she stared into those passionate eyes, she knew that his was a sin she could never forget. For all his proclamations of love, he had never trusted her with his secret. He may never have told me.
Cara pulled herself from his grasp. "Go, Alex."
"But–"
"Just go." She turned away from him.
He didn't move, and she brushed past him. He asked softly, "Will you at least stay for the Masque?"
Cara paused, for the question had also been on her mind. What could she do now? Mavian was still out there, and she had seen the light of vengeance in his eyes. The Masque would be the perfect place to hurt as many people as he could.
"I will," she said, "but not for you, or for Druam. I'll stay to defeat Mavian. Once he's gone, I'm leaving this hellish city."
She thought he might argue, but he only sighed. His muffled footsteps sounded on the carpet, then the door opened and shut. When she looked over her shoulder, he was gone.
Cara retreated to her bedroom, where she locked all the doors before perching in the center of the bed. She stared into nothing.
I should have killed him, she thought, though she knew she couldn't bring herself to do it. And if what he said is true, then the fampir are everywhere. I can't trust anyone.
If only Sandu were there. He'd help her find a way out of this. Cara laughed at herself; she had thought Sandu's betrayal to be so awful, then she'd experienced the truths about Alex and Renna. At least Sandu tried to do the right thing. Cara cried then for his loss as she hadn't cried before.
With a knot in her stomach, Cara knew what must be done. The king must be told everything. But even with this realization, she felt resigned instead of empowered. She was but a woman with a sword and no friends.
The hardest part was the earl. He had seemed so determined, earnest, full of hope, and she had thought him the greatest lord one could ask for. Was it possible he truly wanted the best for the people? What if he and Alex were not sinister?
After all, Cara herself was somehow kin to the prowlers. Her own morals were questionable, for she'd killed a child, even if that child was a prowler. She had reveled in slaughtering her enemies, and felt the draw of greater power. If only everything was clear instead of muddled. Prowlers were horrid beasts and must be destroyed. But were she and the fampir similarly bound to darkness, with no chance of redemption?
You were created to destroy creatures like me, Alex had said. Cara thought, Maybe I still will. Just not today.
She had never felt such intense loneliness than in that moment. No one remained to comfort her or give her advice. She remembered the earl calling her a hero. Perhaps this is what being a hero is: being alone.
Chapter Forty-Five
Gwen
"...AND WITH all of the courtiers gathered in the same ballroom, we must ensure proper security..." the speaker droned on. He was one of many stewards the lords had called upon to speak during morning council. Though Druam sat forward, listening attentively to every word that had been spoken in the last two candles, Gwen could not bring herself to care. All the other earls, and the king, were distracted as well: they stirred in their seats, inspected their fingernails, or played with quills and bits of paper. Each earl was seated with his advisors and vassal lords behind him while King Henrik occupied the center table, his crown removed for the time being and placed on a cushion in front of him. Gwen was the only woman in attendance.
When the steward finished, Druam said, "Thank you, Master Eldon. We will fully consider what you have said and deliver instructions for the Masque as soon as we are able. You are dismissed."
The steward bowed and waddled from the room. As soon as he had departed, the earls and king sat forward, focusing their attention on Druam. King Henrik asked, "Is there a possibility that your cousin will attempt something tomorrow night, Earl Seastone?" The king looked pointedly at Gwen. "He has already attempted assassinations on our wives."
Murmurs followed as the earls turned to speak with their men. Druam sighed and sat back, taking Gwen's hand as he did. "I cannot say with certainty that Mavian will not do something rash. From what I understand, Maeria Westerburg – or Renna Nellestere, as the sulpari has claimed her to be – was a woman of great importance to him. In his grief, he may try to inflict the same pain upon the rest of us."
"We see." King Henrik's eyes again turned to Gwen. "Can the Lady Seastone tell us anything about his machinations? You told us he spoke with her; we want to know what he said."
"My wife–" Druam started, but the king cut him off abruptly.
"From the lady herself, please. We want as much clarity in this as possible."
The memory of that dungeon's horrid smell and Mavian's cruel smile leapt forward in Gwen's mind. Her throat tightened and her hands shook as she straightened. She took a deep breath, swallowing the terror stuck in her mouth, and said as calmly as she could, "He wanted me to...to help him. He said that the lords of this land were corrupt and would bring the people to ruin. All he wanted, he said, was to bring knowledge and peace to the rustics, a new era of enlightenment and prosperity. He...he said that Earl Seastone, and King Henrik, and all the other earls and lords, would need to be brought down, and that he himself would rise as a benevolent ruler." Mavian's exact words twisted in her memory, but she did her best to recall them. "And
then he brought me below the palace to a cavern filled with prowlers. He spoke to them, and they obeyed him."
Gwen stopped suddenly, for her breath came faster, and she spoke quicker than was proper. She knew that she must look wide-eyed and scared. Druam squeezed her hand, then said to the king, "My wife does not have the constitution to re-live such horrors now, Your Grace. I have kept her beside me as often as I can since such events, and the terror she experienced has quieted her bright humors and brought her soul to a dark place."
"That may well be," the king said, his tone flat, "but we have an enemy in our midst who plans murder. You said, our dear lady, that Mavian Strilu wanted you to help him. Why? How could you aid him in his coup?"
Gwen hesitated. Druam nodded, though his eyes betrayed his nerves. Her eyes focused at a spot on the wall behind the king, Gwen said, "I...I possess magic, Your Grace. Mavian believes there to be a cure for the affliction of the prowlers, and that I can help him."
"We see." Though his expression did not change, the king's eyes grew colder. Murmurs had once again come up at Gwen's words, and she felt so small surrounded by Dotschar's powerful men.
"Your Grace!" Lord Daghorn, the Skallish ambassador, strode to the front of the room to face the assembly. "Would you allow this woman – this foul creature – to go free?"
"What is your complaint against her?"
"She is a witch! And, far worse, she has evaded the righteous arm of the Inquisition for too long. She fled Demarren knowing her own guilt and treachery. My kin, the rightful heirs of that kingdom, demand her head."
The Lantern-Lit City Page 39
