by Shea Godfrey
Cecelia took a tentative step. “What did you believe, Darry?”
Darry wiped her face and stepped back in response to the approach, keeping the distance between them. “That I could have the love of my family and still have a love of my own.”
“Darry, you can. I swear it is so,” Cecelia said. “You must trust me, please.”
“Trust you? You took the girl I loved and threatened her family with ruin should she see me again.” Darry backed farther away. “You paid them in gold the price you thought my heart was worth. You let me think it was me! Me! And all these years I wasn’t good enough. Not worthy of someone’s love or their desire. I wasn’t good enough.”
“Darrius, no!”
“Your tongue is filled with lies, Mother.”
“Yes,” Cecelia answered. “But not this.”
Darry’s smile was bitter. “This was my fault.”
“No, my love. No, Darry.”
“So let’s hear it, Mother. What’s your excuse?”
Cecelia’s heart tore open at the tears that rose in Darry’s eyes and then fell. “Will you listen?”
“I asked. I’m not so weak as to turn away now.”
The words were like bait before her, but Cecelia ignored them. “I did not know what Malcolm had done, or that your father sanctioned it. I didn’t know until you were gone and it was too late to change it.
“And Malcolm was wrong in what he did, as was Owen, and I let them know my feelings emphatically,” Cecelia continued. “But when you returned with the Zephyr the following year, you seemed happy, and I thought you’d made peace with Aidan’s rejection. And you were home, Darry, and you…” Cecelia reached out to her, unable to stand it any longer.
Darry remained silent and utterly still.
Cecelia lowered her hand. “I thought it served no purpose to tell you what had been done, for it was over and there was no going back. There was no fixing it no matter how badly I wanted to. That was my decision, Cat, that we would keep the truth from you. I didn’t want you broken from your father completely. He loves you dearly. Truly he does, Darry, truly he loves you. And I couldn’t take it if you went to war with Malcolm. I would see neither of my children destroyed.
“But I had no idea that you thought such harsh and hurtful things. Such terribly untrue things, Darrius. And If I had known, no matter the consequences or the price, you and I would’ve had this discussion a very long time ago.”
“She wanted to run,” Darry said quietly. “Aidan begged me, while I held her in my arms. She bade me to disown my family and run with her and we would find a place to be safe. She was afraid of my position. We made love in this very room…and I told her no. I promised her we had nothing to fear from the people who loved me.”
Cecelia closed her eyes. “No, Darry.”
“I’ll never make that mistake again, my Lady.”
“Darry, please.”
“I thought if I were strong and true and a good daughter that Malcolm could hate me all he wanted, but he would never be allowed to openly attack me. That even my father, in his confusion and uncertainty toward me, that even so he would never allow such a thing.”
“I will see to your brother, Darrius,” Cecelia said in a hard voice. And Marteen Salish. “And Melora will—”
“Don’t bother,” Darry growled. “Will you punish them for telling the truth?” Her smile was cold and her eyes were free of tears. “I should thank Melora, actually, though she would drop dead from the disappointment.”
Bentley’s voice sounded, close along the balustrade.
“Tell your son that if he approaches Marin Corvinus in any way he shall find my dagger in the ground at his feet,” Darry said.
Cecelia’s eyes darkened in question.
“He’ll know. Make very sure you tell him that.”
Marin Corvinus. Cecelia locked the name away. A lover? Do you have a lover, my daughter? She is safe, I swear my oath upon it. “Darry, you—”
“If he hurts anyone that I care for,” she interrupted, “I swear by all that’s holy, I shall meet him in the yards and gut him like a fucking Solstice pig. And then your poor King Owen Durand will have to decide, at last, what to do with his backwards mistake of a child.”
Cecelia grabbed Darry’s jacket, yanking her close as Darry stood unflinching.
“Not to worry, Mum,” Darry whispered. “I’ll be gone after the tournament.”
“No.”
“I would leave even now, but you see? I have a sudden desire to win the Laurel of Victory first. I will crown my father the truest heart, then forget that I ever knew him. No doubt it will be a huge relief to many, myself included.”
Cecelia grabbed Darry’s shoulders and pulled her firmly into her arms. “Don’t do this!” she pleaded. “For the love of Gamar, Darry, don’t do it.”
Darry did not return the embrace. “I’m very angry, Mother.”
“I know you are, baby. I know it.”
“So just let me go.”
“I cannot do that.”
Darry pulled roughly at her mother’s arms and wrenched free. She moved to the balustrade door without even a last look, then jerked the bolt and threw the door open.
Bentley pushed from the railing. He had never seen such an expression on Darry’s face before. He waited as she walked to him. “What has happened?”
“It was not Aidan’s choice to leave me.”
Bentley looked up, watching Cecelia as she stood in the doorway. “Whose was it then?”
“My father’s. And Malcolm’s, of course. They threatened to destroy her family. They paid them gold when she spurned me as ordered. Blood money, for Aidan’s love and mine.”
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
“No, Bentley.”
“Darrius.”
“I’ll find you, my friend. Don’t be afraid.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“See to my mother, please,” she whispered. “Make sure that she gets to her rooms.”
Bentley placed her hand against his chest, his fingers warm and gentle on her skin. “Don’t leave me behind again…promise you won’t do that.”
“I won’t.”
She slid her hand free and walked away. Bentley saw within her movements every dangerous thing her strength had ever hinted at and the lethal grace of the mountain cat she was named for and whose blood ran within her veins. She disappeared beyond the curve of the stairs as she descended.
“What have you done?” he said as he spun about.
“Do not judge me, Bentley,” Cecelia answered in a rough voice. “You don’t know all that happened.”
“What more must I know, Mum?” he said, refusing to back down. “She’s been haunted by Aidan for years and punishing herself for something she refuses to share. I’ve always thought that Aidan wanted to run and Darry wouldn’t. I know that Aidan was afraid of Malcolm.”
Cecelia blinked at his words and closed the distance between them. “How do you know this? What did he want?”
“Aidan came to me. She was afraid of what Darry might do if she knew that Malcolm had approached her. She wouldn’t say what happened or what he said, but for a long time she was very frightened and would avoid him. She wanted me to swear an oath to help keep it from Darry, but I wouldn’t do it. She struck me, and we had a terrible fight. I agreed at the last for I saw there was no other way.”
Cecelia could see his pain at the memory and she was astonished that Aidan would ever strike anyone. “It would appear, Bentley, that you’re closer to my daughter than I have ever been. Though I thought differently but an hour ago.”
Bentley could see the exhaustion and the blatant sorrow on her face.
“She has sworn to leave after the tournament,” Cecelia said.
“Then we shall leave.”
“We?”
“Darry’s Boys,” he answered plainly. “Where she goes we follow.”
“But you have commissions, you all have rank. Some have families, yes?”
>
“No, Mum. We are the bastards or forgotten sons of those who don’t want us. Those who may share our blood do so merely as a formality. We are the reminders of their mistakes or their desperation, or their drunkenness. Or we remind them of the woman they loved most but could not have. We are their anger and their disappointment.”
His words hit Cecelia hard. “So what is my daughter?”
“She is the heart of us. She’s given us a true family, and for some the only family they’ve ever known. She’s given us love that we never thought to have and the respect of a world that would otherwise have shown us its back. And she’s taught us that even though the daughter of a king may be tossed aside, there is still life for the taking if we would just be bold.”
“She’s not been tossed aside!” Cecelia exclaimed.
“You dare say that in light of the truth?” he said, ignoring her anger. “Aidan was her love.” His voice rose as he took a step back. “Their love hurt nothing and no one. But they were deemed unworthy of the things that your other children partake of so freely and with royal fanfare. Aidan…To make her spurn the one she—”
“I know what was done,” Cecelia said, stepping back from him. She began to walk away, reaching toward the wall in order to steady herself, but it was several feet away. Bentley watched as her steps faltered and he reacted without thought.
Bentley caught her, lifting her in his arms before she could fall. “My Lady?” he asked in fear. Her eyes were closed and she was beyond pale. When she did not answer he moved in a rush.
Jessa stood before him on the balustrade and he let out a grunt of surprise. He slid to a halt and took an awkward step to the side.
Jessa followed him and laid a gentle touch on Cecelia’s brow. “What’s happened here?”
“I think she’s passed out, but I don’t know.”
Jessa took in Cecelia’s pale face and stepped close as she pressed her hand more firmly on Cecelia’s brow. She took a slow, full breath and let it out, then did so again, turning her mind toward the heat against her palm. She let her thoughts be drawn downward, let herself be pulled in, her eyelids fluttering as the air around them became thick with the scent of jasmine.
The spell was a difficult one but Jessa wove it quickly and with skill, falling within her own body as her mind followed the runes. She pushed them gently into a rope of connection that would bind them together. Her heartbeat slowed with a stutter and she took another breath, a shaft of pain lancing through her chest. She let the breath out slowly and another pulse vibrated into her palm, like the ripples from a stone dropped into a still pool of water. The pulse was Cecelia’s, and after several seconds another throbbed along Jessa’s veins, more focused this time and thrumming low within her chest. Her own heart absorbed the impact and began to pound in unison with Cecelia’s.
Cecelia’s heart beat hard and strong, though beneath it Jessa felt the presence of something black and cold that she recognized as fear. Her lungs tightened in want of more air so she took a breath and opened her mind further in search of the darkness.
Jessa took another cleansing breath through her nose, her head tipping back and her shoulders lifting as her lungs filled. Cecelia stirred in Bentley’s arms.
Jessa could almost see the face, a flash of honey blond hair and a dress made of lace and silk the color of the bluest sky. She took another breath, as did Cecelia. Jessa thought she heard laughter and she smiled at the far-away sound, for it was a lovely echo in the back of her mind. She took another breath and opened her eyes slowly, her gaze steady as she watched Cecelia do likewise. The color returned slightly to her face.
“Princess?” Bentley asked in a whisper.
Jessa turned her hand over and slid it in a tender manner along Cecelia’s cheek, allowing their connection to melt away. The runes dissolved within her thoughts as Cecelia took a clean, strong breath on her own. “She needs to rest, and consult a healer. A sleeping draught,” Jessa said quietly. “She is filled with fear, and sorrow, I think. It presses against her and she’s not breathing properly. Something is too heavy for her. She needs to sleep, this will help.”
Bentley stared at Jessa, remembering her care of Darry as she had lain abed with fever, and the way Jessa had looked at Darry and smoothed the hair back from Darry’s face when she thought no one was looking. And she had told no one, keeping them all safe when she had no reason to do so. “Is Darry your friend?”
“Yes.”
“Is she?”
Jessa studied his expression and knew at once that something was terribly wrong. “Where is she, Bentley? Where is Darrius?”
“And are you her friend in return, Lady Jessa?”
Jessa’s heart twisted and she pulled her hand from Cecelia’s face, afraid that her emotions might affect her in such a vulnerable state. Something inside her began to tremble and it stirred the Vhaelin in her blood. She understood then the majik that hung so thick in the air. It had been familiar. It was Darry. “Yes.”
“I don’t know where she went, but she’s been greatly wronged. I’m not sure what she’ll do. I need you to find her, my Lady, please. She’s very angry and I’m not…she is angry, do you understand?”
“The panther is awake, I can smell her,” Jessa said. “I understand, Bentley.”
Her comment startled him. Sweet Gamar, she knows. She knows.
“Go,” she said. “Find the healer, do you hear? Tell him what I said. I left Emmalyn in the solar when we went riding earlier. My Queen will need her, I have no doubt. Leave Akasha to me.”
Bentley frowned at the use of a name other than Darry’s. It sounded terribly intimate, though he was ignorant of its meaning. She loves her. Jessa’s heart was as open as the sky. She’s bloody well in love with Darry. Holy fucking he—
“Go, you ass!” Jessa commanded, anger flashing in her gaze as she lost her patience. “May the Vhaelin help you for a fool, move!”
Bentley obeyed, hurrying through the door of Darry’s old chambers, the quickest way to the inner keep. He managed the inner door and kicked it open, his voice booming as he shouted Emmalyn’s name.
Jessa lifted her face and the heat of the Vhaelin moved within her blood. It was scorching and it was thrilling, her heartbeat hastening beneath its sway. Pulling her cloak tight about her tunic and riding skirt, she followed the scent of the panther.
Chapter Twenty-One
The expansive stalls of the main barn were filled with anxious animals. Many of the horses shied away and tossed their heads as Jessa passed. A board was kicked and Jessa flinched but kept moving. Their instincts served them well. Something dangerous was in their midst and could not be ignored.
Darry threw open one of the farthest stall doors and disappeared within.
Jessa quickened her pace and as she approached, Darry reemerged, grabbing the blanket and saddle that sat waiting. Darry was pale and her eyes were distant, caught somewhere other than where she stood. Her body was torn between here and there. She disappeared into the stall once more.
Jessa was cautious as she grasped the gate. Darry threw the blanket onto the filly’s back and tossed the saddle after it.
“I want to come with you,” Jessa said.
“No.”
“I want to come with you.”
Darry pulled the cinch and the filly backed up. Darry followed and yanked again until the sash was fully tightened.
Jessa stepped to the opposite side of the gate and seized the bridle from its peg. When Darry turned she had no choice but to face her, though she eyed the bridle and refused to look up. Jessa held it out and Darry seized the leather. Jessa’s grip tightened in response, and her refusal to let go finally prodded Darry to look up.
“I want to come with you,” she said gently.
“Let go.”
Darry could barely contain her wildness, Jessa could feel it. Darry’s control seemed tenuous at best. “So take it.”
Darry moved so fast that Jessa barely saw it. Darry’s hands were roug
h on her upper arms and Jessa backed through the straw at her feet until the stable door was behind her. The filly screamed and threw her head up.
Jessa felt Darry’s muscled thighs and breasts pressing close and moving as Darry breathed. She closed her eyes and lifted her face along Darry’s skin, her blood pumping hard and pooling low within her body as her stomach filled with wings. “Take me with you,” she whispered.
Darry’s body was trembling and Jessa brought her hands forward as much as she was able. The bridle still dangled in her grip as her fingers brushed Darry’s hips. Darry’s lower body pressed closer in reaction and a wave of pleasure shuddered in Jessa’s belly. Her lips brushed an earlobe and Darry faced her, then slipped her right leg between Jessa’s thighs. Darry’s hands opened and Jessa slid her own hands down Darry’s slim hips, searching slowly for the leverage she intended to use to pull Darry nearer.
Their lips were so close Jessa could taste the warmth of Darry’s breath, her entire world hanging on that single, aching moment.
Darry let out a strangled sound and backed away, ripping the bridle from Jessa’s hand. Jessa leaned heavily against the door as Darry whispered to the horse. She slid the bit into the filly’s mouth and the forestall over her ears, then did up the buckles with trembling hands. When Darry pulled her mount toward the gate Jessa stood in her way.
“Do you think you frighten me?” she asked.
“Jessa, please.”
“I want to go with you.”
“We cannot be friends anymore.” Darry spoke harshly, her tone terribly cold, but Jessa saw something completely different in her eyes. “I cannot be your friend.”
“That is fine,” Jessa said. “You may do what you want, just take me with you.”
Darry blinked. “Move.”
“Take me with you.”
“Jessa, move!”
“Take me with you.”
They stared at each other. “If you have any feelings for me at all, please just move.” Darry spoke in a trembling voice. “Please, Jess.”
Jessa took a bold step forward, lifting an eyebrow in challenge.
“I meant out of the way,” Darry said.
