Thordike nodded to each of them in turn. “How many more of you are there?” he asked.
“Aggravain doesn’t stay close when the moon is full,” Jovan said, avoiding the actual word. “It’s safer for everyone.”
“There are fourteen of us all told,” Calder said, “not including Attilus. My dog,” he added in response to the Duke’s quizzical expression.
“Did you count Senna?” Edwin asked. “Don’t forget her. She’s a Healer,” he explained.
“Senna?” Lady Marina swept back into the room, taking her place beside her husband. “I know that name. She’s from Gira, is she not? The Healers at the clinic know of her.”
Jovan nodded. “She is. She helped Melody not too long ago, and volunteered to help us against Semaj.”
“Melody was injured?” Lady Marina sounded surprised.
“More than once,” Edwin remembered.
“Semaj wants her dead,” Jovan explained. “He doesn’t care how many of his creatures we kill, he just sends more.”
“He’ll use anything to get to her,” Derek said. “Or anyone.” His voice was heavy with regret.
“Korith, too,” added Calder. “His agents have been closing in ever since Melody’s people were killed. They’re still out there.”
“How does Semaj know of her?” asked the Duke.
“Magic might recognize magic,” Rhodoban suggested.
“Maybe so,” Jovan said. “She was there, though. We both were. In Cabinsport. Or rather, underneath Cabinsport. That’s where we think he is.” His stomach tightened as he remembered those tunnels - the rats, the spider, and how close he had come to bleeding out on the rocks. If it weren’t for her …
“Under?”
“Have you ever heard of the Witherin, Duke?” At his nod, Rhodoban continued. “From what Jovan tells me of the tunnels he explored under Cabinsport, I believe them to be a route there, if not the very heart of the Witherin itself. That’s where he’ll be.”
Duke Thordike rubbed his mustache, thoughtful. “Tell me,” he said, changing the subject. “Foley. Is it as bad as they say?”
Everyone nodded. Several of them looked ill, remembering the brutal images that had been forced into their minds back in Gira.
“I walked through the wreckage not a day after it was destroyed,” Jovan said, the tightness returning low in his gut. “Not so much as a fencepost remains.”
“And Melody, is she … did she really …?” Thordike’s answer was in the faces of the men who knew her.
“She also saved my children,” added Rhodoban. “Whatever destruction she caused, she did bring them to safety. She kept them alive. I ask you remember that before you judge her too harshly.”
Thordike shook his head. “I did not ask so that I might judge her. It is just difficult to imagine someone so small with such enormous power.”
“She didn’t ask for it.” Jovan’s voice was flat.
“Few would have requested such a responsibility. I do not envy her burden.” He paused. “Do you believe she is the weapon that will win the war we will soon face?”
“Yes,” said Gage.
“No,” said Jovan and Rhodoban simultaneously.
“How can you deny it?” The Riverchill man argued. “All she has to do is call down whatever she rained on Foley and Semaj is as good as destroyed. Again.”
“Her role is not as a weapon, Gage,” Rhodoban insisted. “It is as a teacher.”
“She’s going to have to realize it’s not a teacher we need,” Gage insisted. “Better sooner than later.”
“Melody will never use that kind of force again,” Jovan said. “She fears it.” A third cramp echoed in his gut, and he realized the sensations were Melody’s. What was wrong? He reached for her in the space they shared, finding her anxious but in no real pain. There was something else, too, something nameless and insistent …
“There is enormous value in teaching,” Lady Marina was saying when Jovan forced his attention back to the conversation. “Especially if she can awaken new power in others. Who knows what talents might lie dormant in them?”
“Right. Yes. We … we need to go,” Jovan said, looking towards the door. The others recognized his tone and stood straighter, ready to leave.
“Time is still a factor,” Duke Thordike said, misunderstanding. “How much time will she need to work these miracles? How much more time do I have to raise an army?”
“We may need to discuss that tomorrow, Duke.” Rhodoban spoke, watching Jovan as he headed for the archway. “Something seems to have come up…”
Jovan arrived in the doorway in time to hear Lady Korith offer to get someone. “I’m here,” he said, offering his arm to Melody. She took his hand instead, her fingers entwining with his. Bethcelamin dropped a polite curtsey and retreated down the hall.
“Jovan?” Duke Thordike leaned forward in his chair. ”What is it? Is something wrong?”
“I’m so sorry,” Melody said, addressing the Duke and his wife as she and Jovan walked back to the others. “I’m … not feeling well, I’d like to go back to the inn.”
“Of course,” Duke Thordike said. “You should get some rest.”
Melody’s feelings were still washing over him, and Jovan was certain that her plans did not involve rest.
“Do you need a Healer?” Lady Marina asked, concerned. “We have several.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing Senna can’t handle.” Melody smiled, her expression tightening as another cramp hit.
“We shall discuss this further tomorrow, then,” Duke Thordike said, standing. “Let us know if there is anything you require.”
12
Bethcelamin was reluctant to return to her room after the conversation with Melody, and spent some time wandering the halls of the keep. Her daughter. She played the words in her mind, unable to make them feel natural. Had it been too long? Had she lost any hope of connecting, of reclaiming who she had been?
Saving Jayden’s life - and he would have died that night without her, of that she was sure - had given her a sense of something larger, some way to be more than just a Duke’s wife. Marina’s friendship had strengthened that part of her, the part that was capable and worthy. Lady Thordike’s work with the Healers had been so inspiring, Bethcelamin couldn’t help but want to be a part of it— yet Jayden had been furious. She was more concerned than she would admit at how he would respond when she returned to the room he had been confined to.
She had disobeyed his direction to stay in the room. That alone would tighten his brow and make his words sharp. Her arms still ached from where he had gripped her in his earlier anger. In her absence, though, he had learned that her daughter was not only alive, but in Estfall - and he had been sent to his room like a naughty child while Duke Thordike welcomed the girl. He would be beside himself with rage.
Bethcelamin bit at her lips. She had dared to hope that her husband’s hesitant alliance with Duke Thordike against the threat of the Lich King would ease Jayden’s obsessions - with being king, with eliminating magic - but he seemed more driven than ever. Now, after this … how could she hope to calm him? The smell of cooking meat drew her attention.
“Did you need me, my Lady?” Bashara looked up, startled to see the Duchess in the kitchens of the keep. Bethcelamin shook her head with a reassuring smile.
“No, Bashara, I’m fine. I was hoping to get some dinner for my husband. It’s been a … challenging day. I thought he might appreciate the kindness.”
Word had already spread to the kitchen about the goings-on in the reception hall, but Bashara wouldn’t dream of repeating what some of Duke Thordike’s staff had said about the visiting Duke’s behavior. “Of course, my Lady,” she said. “Shall I bring it up for you?”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Bethcelamin said. “I’ll bring it.” She could tell herself she was simply trying to be kind by doing it herself, but in truth, she didn’t want Bashara to see Jayden in the state he was likely to be in. “It can’t
be that heavy.”
Bashara smiled, already preparing the tray. “Let me at least carry it to the door, Lady, and then you can bring it in. Balancing it on the stairs takes some practice.”
“That would be wonderful, Bashara, thank you.”
When Bethcelamin took the tray from her maid outside her room door, she was glad of the compromise - it was unexpectedly heavy. Thordike’s guard said nothing, but he stepped forward and opened the chamber door for her. When she had stepped through, he closed it behind her.
Bethcelamin nearly dropped the tray, gasping at the condition of the room. “Jayden? What happened?”
The suite was a disaster, but it was the cold Bethcelamin noticed first. The fire was out, the bedding and pillows were strewn across the floor with countless papers and documents, and the window overlooking the training fields was propped open, letting in an icy breeze. She shivered, the silverware rattling against the plates at the motion, and picked her way towards the bare desk to set down the tray.
“I would have made you a queen,” Korith said from the doorway of the sitting room, and there was something colder than the breeze in his voice.
Bethcelamin set down the tray, taking a step towards the window. “I brought you some dinner,” she began, but his mirthless laugh interrupted her.
“Of course you did. Stay,” he commanded, sharply. “Leave the window.”
Bethcelamin paused. “Jayden, it’s fr—”
“Do not make me repeat myself.”
She stayed, keeping her silence, searching his face. She had never seen him so still, and his voice…
“A queen,” Korith said again. His arms were folded across his chest, his eyes narrowed. “Yet they have you bringing in a tray like a servant.” The disdain in his voice was unbearable.
“No,” Bethcelamin said. “I wanted to do it, I thought you might like—”
“Like?” He snapped, uncoiling from his deceptively relaxed position against the doorframe. “You chose to debase yourself, and I should like it?”
Bethcelamin shivered. “I didn’t,” she protested. “Please, Jayden…”
“Please? No. Things are about to change, dove.” He practically spit the word. “If you want to be a servant so badly, then let’s get started.”
Jayden was fast. In a heartbeat he had taken Bethcelamin’s wrist and pulled her towards him, moving behind her and using the momentum to press her up against the doorframe he had been leaning on. He used his other hand to grip her jaw, physically turning her head to look at the chaos in the room.
“Jayden!” The word broke off in a small cry as he increased the pressure on both her arm and her jaw.
“That will be the last word you speak in my presence,” he told her, pressing against her with his lips just behind her ear. “Unless I ask you a question. Do you understand?”
Bethcelamin nodded, unable to stop shaking. “Yes!” she gasped when her silence earned her another painful reminder of his anger.
“I am done being made a fool of by my own wife,” Korith continued. “Finished. No more sneaking out to play nursemaid when I ask only that you behave according to your station. No more consorting with magic users. This is not your home,” he snapped, readjusting his grip from her jaw to her neck. “These people are not your friends. They laugh at us both behind closed doors, and I will not have it.”
Bethcelamin tried to curve her body, shift her weight to ease the pressure on her arm, but Jayden’s grip was inflexible. She blinked, gasping, as the tears welled up.
“You’re going to clean this room as a servant would,” he told her. “You’re going to make the bed, and I’m going to sleep in it.”
Korith moved his hand to the back of her neck, pinning her in place while he released her wrist and began to loosen the laces of her dress. Her hands fluttered, but she said nothing.
“Good girl,” he said. “You’re learning.” He finished with the laces and unceremoniously tugged the dress from her body. He kicked at her feet to make her step free of the fabric, leaving her in just her shift. “Or maybe you think someone can save you? Maybe you think when I’m asleep you can sneak out and beg for sanctuary?”
Bethcelamin shivered again as a breeze rustled papers on the floor and blew her thin underskirt against her trembling legs. Too frightened to speak or face him, she tried to shake her head, deny that she would run - though he was right, she had immediately thought of the guard at the door. Would he come, if she could cry out?
“You always underestimate me, dove. I haven’t trusted you since you took off with that mage. Did you think for even one moment that I believed you were enchanted, that he had bewitched you? No. I have been prepared for this moment for years, Beth. I knew you would betray me again.”
His scorn and hatred were colder than the stone wall under her cheek. Her heart sank. “Just kill me,” Bethcelamin breathed, her tears leaving icy trails on her burning cheeks.
Jayden spun her to face him, replacing his hand on her neck and dropping his other hand to her hip, where his thumb dug painfully into the flesh between the bone and her belly. Her lips parted and she tried to gasp, startled by the depth of the pain, but his grip was too tight, she couldn’t breathe.
“Kill you? Oh no, dove. You’re going to live. Your witch-child is going to lead everyone to their deaths, and you’re going to live to see it. You’re going to do as I say without a word to anyone - or when your maid’s mother is killed, it will be because of you. When her blind father is tortured, when he dies screaming and alone, it will be because of you. I can make all of that happen by simply not sending a letter.”
He relaxed his grip on her neck just enough for her to draw a breath, and forced her to meet his eyes. He pushed his thumb still harder into the tender flesh in front of her hip, making her eyes roll and her knees weak.
“Your younger sister, her husband, their children… Will you be responsible for their deaths? What of your new friend, Marina? Accidents happen to children every day, Beth. Do you want her children’s deaths on your hands?”
Bethcelamin was sobbing, as much as she had breath for.
“How many years have I sent those messages to my men, sparing the lives of the people you love? We’ve been here a full moon cycle, do you believe my Hunters don’t have access to those children yet? As long as I continue to send word, as long as I am pleased with you,” Jayden said, “everyone will be safe. Do you understand that?”
She nodded, shaking so hard under his hands he thought she might fall.
Bethcelamin’s breath came in short, stuttering gasps and her thoughts fluttered, frantic - captive birds in a rattling cage, unable to settle anywhere for long. Of course he didn’t trust her, she had willingly fled with Solus, how could she have thought—? He spent more time at his desk than he did in his bed, sending and receiving messages at all hours, could she really think he wouldn’t—? He had made it clear on their wedding night how disobedience was rewarded, how could she think he would forgive—?
Hurting people was what Jayden was good at. She had turned a blind eye this long, she had kept her head down, thankful his attention was not on her, but she knew … hadn’t she known? Now, pushed past his breaking point, her physical pain wouldn’t be enough for him. He would want to break her. He would want to crush her spirit - and she already knew he knew how.
“Only two things will please me, Bethcelamin, and I want you to repeat them back to me. Silence,” he said, and once more relaxed his grip on her throat so she could speak.
“Silence,” she croaked.
“Obedience,” he said.
“O— obedience,” she repeated. Her tears were making his fingers slip on her neck, and he released her entirely. As he expected, she stayed motionless, as paralyzed as a rabbit hoping the hunter would forget it was there.
“Again,” he said. “What will please me?”
Bethcelamin took a hitching, shuddering breath. “Silence,” she whispered, not looking at her husband. “Obedience.
” She stood, shivering, waiting.
“Close the window, Beth, and put the room to rights.” Korith took a seat and began to eat the meal she had brought, watching her as she struggled with the heavy shutter. She was still shaking as she pulled the drapes closed.
“No tea tonight, Bethcelamin?”
She froze, her hands still on the curtains. She had begged Bashara to stop giving her the bitter drink that pushed her into sleep, and Bashara had slowly transitioned her to a different kind to avoid Jayden’s anger. When he had seemed too busy to notice, she’d stopped the nightly ritual altogether.
“Speak.” His tone was a warning.
“I - I didn’t want it,” Bethcelamin said, forcing the words through teeth that wanted only to chatter together with the cold.
“I wasn’t aware that was up to you,” her husband said, taking a long swallow of wine. “No matter. It’s time you started paying attention. I don’t remember telling you to stop cleaning.”
Bethcelamin immediately bent to pick up her discarded dress.
“Bed first,” he reminded her sharply. “Don’t forget the blanket on the chaise in the sitting room. And both of our cloaks,” he added. “I’ll need the warmth while the cold teaches you a lesson.”
Jayden was silent while she worked, finishing the food on one plate and moving to the second. “I do love you,” he told her as she tucked the linens into place as she had no doubt seen Bashara do so many times. “I wish you hadn’t pushed me to this, dove. This is your doing. Your behavior put my plans at risk. I will have your cooperation moving forward, though?”
Bethcelamin stopped adjusting the cloaks on the coverlet, searching her husband’s face to see if he expected an answer, or silence. Uncertain, she nodded.
“Good girl,” he said again, draining the goblet of wine. “Finish tending to the rest. Quietly. I’m going to bed.” He stood, rubbing at his temples. This was the first headache he’d had in weeks, and he did not welcome its return. “If I find you anywhere other than the floor when I wake, dove, I will not be pleased.”
Arise Page 8
