A Trial of Sparks & Kindling (Fall of the Mantle Book 2)

by Yolandie Horak

  “Used to.” Once again, Cara didn’t meet Nathan’s gaze.

  Nathan’s blood crystallised, and his pulse stopped. Just an act. If only his heart knew.

  “You’re right, of course.” A vicious glint entered Frank’s ever-present smile. “But I had good instincts in pairing you two together. This love is one for the ages—the kind that inspires sagas.”

  “We certainly think so.” Nic winked at Cara, then bent down to kiss her, full on the lips.

  Her jaw shifted as she opened her mouth to him, though her fist tightened.

  Nathan reached for his inner surgeon, but didn’t calm. His every thought screamed for something, any damn substance. Anything to destroy the image of the woman he loved kissing another man.

  Nic pulled away, and Cara’s eyes were dead. Her act had never been more complete.

  “Well, we were just out for a walk and wanted to say hello.” Frank tipped his head. “See you at lunch, Ghedi.”

  “See you,” Ghedi said.

  They departed.

  Ghedi held his staff in the fold of his elbow, cheek pressed to the wood. He studied them with narrow eyes and shook his head. “Want to shoot out some of your frustration?”

  “Please.”

  ***

  Nathan stared at the double whiskey he’d poured for himself. It sat on the small table in his cottage, next to the bottle, still wrapped in brown paper. The liquor vendor wasn’t on his way back from the training grounds—he’d walked a fair way to get there.

  He had no excuses. This was his fault.

  He’d won the fight with the urge to use medicine, but the whiskey could make him forget just as well. For a little while, at least. Just one sip. He flicked away a drop of condensation on the glass with a quivering forefinger. No, he couldn’t.

  He recoiled as though the glass could bite, then reached forwards and grasped it. In a steady swipe, the glass was in front of his face. Pressed to his mouth. He shook his head and put the glass back on the table, then lowered himself to the floor and did ten push-ups. Each time he came up, the rim of the glass became visible above the table’s edge.

  He turned his back to the table to do crunches instead.

  The smell of alcohol hung around him, but he did thirty crunches, forty, fifty. The scent of sweat replaced that of alcohol, but he found himself with the glass in his hand again, breathing in the amber liquid.

  The door opened just as he tipped the glass to taste it. Some of the whiskey sloshed out of the glass as he spun to hide it behind his back. The glass slipped out of his fingers and shattered on the floor.

  Nita stood in the door frame with a deadly scowl, hands on her hips. “Oh, Nathaniel. You should have come to me.” She stomped over and grabbed the bottle, then slammed the door as she left.

  Chapter 34

  Cara sat in the garden, within the protective arc of Nic’s arm.

  He brought her here every day. Maybe he thought the repetition would ease her addicted mind. Maybe he brought her because he liked it.

  The taste of his last cup of tea remained on her tongue.

  A storm raged inside of her, and her soul was drenched. The last thing she’d wanted was to let Nic kiss her. She was tainted because of that kiss, in protection of Nathan or not.

  With every event Frank forced on her via Malak and Nic, another part of her drifted away. She fought, in the silence of her mind, but how much longer could she fight? Bit by bit, she would revert to the mouse they wanted her to be.

  Frank had become no better than Celestine, and she hated him for it. Hated them both.

  While he claimed to loathe and fear Celestine, claimed he was forced to do whatever she asked, he still played the same game as she did. No matter what he said, Frank liked the game. The way he’d smiled at Nathan’s pain was proof enough.

  Besides, too many parts of Frank’s story seemed like worthless excuses instead of truth. Like he tried to justify things just so she’d forgive him.

  Cara fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. How much more of this could she take? Would she become just another wooden puppet in Frank’s little show? Would she give up and become their mouse?

  No. She planned to fight back.

  Cara had been invisible once. What was she now? The princess of Mordoux. Uncovered, exhibited in all her strain-bearing glory.

  Maybe that’s what she had to be. The opposite of invisible. A flaming beacon, a full-on display that couldn’t be ignored. Maybe she was the kindling that would set Mordoux on fire.

  Nic sighed, his thumb absently caressing her shoulder. He’d sighed a hundred times since they’d come to the garden. His eyebrows flickered together, shifted apart, together, apart.

  Did the circumstances of their fake romance bother him as much as it bothered her? Probably not. He wasn’t much better than Frank. Each time he kissed her, it was against her will. Each time he touched her, it was without her leave. He had no right to her body, but like Frank, he ignored boundaries that shouldn’t have been crossed.

  “I need to tell you something.” Nic stood and helped her up.

  What now?

  He didn’t offer her a moment to consider it, he just took her hand and pulled her along behind him. Into the castle. Up the stairs, past her room, and up into the tower.

  The heaviness in her stomach amplified with every step. Ashes, where was he taking her?

  Who was she kidding? She already knew. There were only so many rooms in the tower, and she’d gone all the way up in one of the tunnels in the wall, then entered the topmost room. How many footprints had she left? How many small testimonies of her visit?

  As though he could read her mind, Nic stopped in front of the only door in the short hall at the top of the tower. He pulled a key from a chain beneath his shirt and unlocked the door, then guided her into the room with a hand in the small of her back.

  The space looked different in daylight. Grey, dreary. Every item was covered in so much dust that she couldn’t identify some of them. Motes whirled around, and with Nic’s every step, more specks glittered in the light from the window.

  He went straight to the area behind the boxes, where Cara had decided to turn around, back into the passage. He pointed at the footprints, then pointed at her shoes. How? How had he found out?

  She walked closer and studied the ground. There were more footprints behind those boxes, made by larger feet. Had he made those prints?

  Nic took her arm again, then led her out of the room, and locked the door behind him.

  The hall pulsed in and out of focus. Her skin was clammy, cold, and she struggled to swallow.

  Nic wove his fingers through hers, then took her to her suite. Inside, he pulled out the key on the chain again, and locked the door.

  A skeleton key? What was happening? He knew the truth; he must have figured it out. But what was he planning to do with her in a locked room?

  Nic held his finger to his lips. ‘Talk,’ he mouthed, and entered her bathroom.

  With a swallow, Cara followed.

  Nic opened the faucet of the tub and sat on the edge. “I know everything.” His voice was barely louder than the crashing water.

  She gave a step back.

  “No need to run. You’re in no danger from me.” Nic shook his head. “Really, you’re safe. I won’t hurt you.”

  In Collinefort? Almost everyone in Collinefort wanted to hurt her. Could she honestly trust Nic? Maybe her only option would be to hear him out, then act afterwards.

  She moved closer and leaned against the sink.

  “I know you haven’t been using the ethirin,” he said. “I don’t know how you found out, or for how long you’ve been clean, but I know you’ve just been acting like an addict—impressive, by the way. Also, you should know I told Frank.”

  Her mind shattered. “What?”

  “Surprise.” He held up both hands and wiggled his fingers.

  Cara’s tongue was too thick, too dry to speak. She swallowed, swallowed, swallowed,
and struggled to breathe.

  Frank knew. How long had he known?

  She turned and gulped down water from the sink, then wiped her mouth and faced Nic. “When did you, ah. When did you find out?”

  “The day you bumped into me in the hall.”

  That long? The entire time they’d seen each other.

  “Please, sweetheart. Your act was marvellous, so good that I began to question what I knew, but the fact remains that you’d planned your escape from your room that day. You’d covered your hair, you walked like a servant, and you even carried that tray. Nobody as drugged as you would have had a clear enough mind to think of all those things. Then, you immediately started a campaign to tell me you were being drugged. I knew what I saw, and I told Frank that same day.”

  The same day. That meant…

  It meant Frank had known she was clean when he’d shouted about Pointy. It meant he’d known when he’d pulled her out of her room and confessed everything to her. When he’d told her she had to pretend to love Nic or Nathan would die.

  She breathed hard and fast, and the stones shifted around in the walls.

  It meant he’d been manipulating her, to the same extent as Celestine had.

  Why? What did he gain from this? Why would he pretend not to know she wasn’t drugged?

  Question everything.

  Frank had believed Cara to be under the influence until soon after he and Malak had spoken openly in front of Cara, which meant their conversation had likely been unfiltered. He wouldn’t have had to lie to her that day. Hopefully.

  They’d wanted to discredit and kill Pointy, who’d already been missing.

  So, when Nic had told Frank Cara’s secret, Frank would’ve had to reconsider his plan, factor in what he now knew about Cara. And he was just like Celestine, so he’d have used the information to his advantage.

  Pointy loved to embellish. He’d have exaggerated Cara’s feats in Aelland to impress Frank, and Frank would have picked up on Pointy’s regard for Cara.

  Which would become a weapon in Frank’s hands.

  What better way to bring Pointy out of hiding than to dangle Cara in front of him? Nic didn’t take Cara to the garden every day because he liked it. No, he took her there so she’d be in the same place every day, at around the same time. He took her there to bait Pointy.

  That was how he knew Pointy had been there—they’d been watching, waiting.

  But Frank’s plan had failed, because Pointy had escaped. Maybe that was why Pointy hadn’t shown up to meet with Cara the next day—he must have figured out the truth and stayed away because it was dangerous. Could he be back in hiding somewhere? Let him be safe.

  Frank’s fit of rage afterwards had been to force information out of Cara. When she hadn’t budged, Frank had shifted course. He’d put on his own act. Even when she’d thought she had some advantage over him, he’d been amid a grand manipulation, aware of her every move.

  How well he knew her. She’d thought he still cared for her, but he’d used her weaknesses against her, just as she’d thought she’d used his against him. His tears had been fake.

  Was any part of the old Frank left? Or had she been so desperate for the perfect big brother that her mind had manufactured one for her? The old Frank had never existed.

  Nic stood and forced Cara to sit on the edge of the bath. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  Everything Nic told her could be a part of the plan. Why else would he offer her this information, if not because his master yanked on his leash?

  And where did Celestine fit into all of this? Was she the ultimate puppeteer? Or were she and Frank truly pulling different strings?

  “Ah. You have that I don’t trust you expression.” He crouched in front of her. “Look. This is all new to me. Difficult. You’ve been here for almost three weeks, and as it turns out, that’s all the time needed to screw up a friendship. I didn’t like what Frank was doing to you. He knew it. He always claimed it was her, the old bitch, but a part of me knew it was as much his fault as hers.

  “Ghedi said some things the other day, when your boyfriend came back from that outpost. He called Frank a neglectful king. That was hard to hear, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. Frank’s always had a strong will, a temper, but I think Ghedi’s right. Over the years I’ve known Frank, the temper and strong will turned to something darker. Slowly, but I still feel like a half-cocked idiot for not noticing.

  “Then you wander into our lives, and finally the alliance promised to my family is within reach. And you’re beautiful, and you’re smart. So resourceful. I mean, you found the weakness in the Mantle, and almost single-handedly cured the plague.” She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand and continued, “And more than that, you come here, find out your brother’s hurting you, and don’t go to pieces.

  “That day in the tunnels, I was the one who caught you. I didn’t know it was you at the time; I seriously thought it was the kid who’d come with Du Pont. We all did. When I realised you weren’t using the ethirin, and I could compare your size to the kid’s, I knew it had to be you. So, I followed the passages from your room, and found all your footprints in the storage room above. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell Frank you know about the tunnels. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe I wanted you to get away from all of this.

  “I think, over time, you and I could have fallen in love.” He shook his head. “Problem is, I realised today that I’ve been forcing myself on you, and all because Frank told me to.

  “Just like Clarity told him to drug you. I hate myself. I hate this.” Nic ran his hands through his hair. “So, earlier Frank tells me he’s going to have Nathan killed. I don’t know exactly when, but soon. I thought you’d like to know.”

  A scream built in her throat, but Cara managed to keep it behind her clenched teeth. She stood, and slapped Nic as hard as she could.

  “So, this is where you walk out, right?” Her vision blurred. “This is where you take your fancy key and lock me in my room, so I’d be forced into the tunnels, because that’s what Frank wants. Or maybe I stay in my room because I think Frank wants me to enter the tunnels, but Nathan gets killed anyway?” Cara shuddered as vomit pushed up her throat. She turned and threw up in the latrine, then rinsed her mouth in the sink.

  “You can’t keep throwing up, sweet—”

  “I am not your damn sweetheart.” She wiped her eyes. “Did Frank send you to tell me all of this?”

  “No. He’ll kill me if he knows.” He pulled Sera’s letter from his pocket. “I don’t know if this will help you believe me or make you doubt me more, but I stole this for you. From Frank’s room.” He passed her the letter.

  Cara held it in an iron grip. Finally. Having the letter back reinforced her resolve.

  “Punch me.” Nic rolled out his neck and looked down at her without any emotion on his face. “Go on, you’ll feel better. Do you know how?”

  “Son of a—” She threw all her weight behind a punch to his gut.

  “No. Hold your hand like this.” He took her fingers and rearranged them to his liking, while her fury burned hotter. “If you punch someone like you just did, you’ll break your own bones in the process. Spread your legs a bit, centre yourself, and use the power from your core to drive the punch.”

  “Are you expecting me to remember any of this while I’m so angry I’m literally crying? Why in the Creator’s name are you doing this?”

  “Because I just gave you information that’s going to send you headlong into danger. I want to know you have at least a small chance to defend yourself.” He took her by the chin and tilted her face down. “You tuck your chin like that, keep your eyes on the target, then strike.”

  Cara threw all her weight behind the next punch.

  “Good. Again.”

  She struck. “You kissed me as if I were yours. You held me and touched me and would have probably had your way with me if Frank told you to. I hate you for that.”
<
br />   “I would never have slept with you like that, Cara.”

  She punched him and smiled when he grunted. “Where is Pointy?”

  He took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Nobody knows.”

  “How am I supposed to believe anything you say?”

  “I swear, I’m not lying to you. I’ve lied to you a lot since we met, and you’ve lied to me.” He raised his hands. “You did what you did to survive, and I admire that. I lied because I was told to. There’s nothing good in what I did, and I’m sorry. What can I do to show you I’m really sorry?”

  She laughed. “You can get my brother to let the man I love live.”

  He gave a nod. “I can’t do that, but I will get Nathan to safety. If—”

  “If what?”

  “You promise to stay put. The patrols have increased in the passages. If they find you this time, they’ll hurt you first, and ask questions later. They won’t see who it is they’re punching and throwing around in the dark.”

  Cara shook her head. “You listen to me, Dominic. You’ll get Nathan to safety, no strings attached. You have no right to make demands of me.”

  His shoulders slumped. “All right. Be safe out there.” He closed the faucet and left.

  Cara folded open the letter. The ink had bled to the extent that most words were unreadable, but it was still Sera’s handwriting, on the back of the letter Cara had sent from the slums with Magnus.

  The most important parts, however, were perfectly legible.

  Cara, you can be queen. I believe in you. And if you’re queen, I need you to grow strong and come back to help.

  And after a smudged section: Make them see you, Carabelle. Frank was wrong—you’re not a mouse.

  Sera was right. She’d always believed Cara was capable of more, and now that Cara also believed it, she’d make the world see the truth.

  She pulled on her gloves and entered the passages.

  Chapter 35

  Varda closed her eyes and lifted her face to the shower head. Droplets of scorching water drenched her, made liquid of her. She hadn’t been able to land a single bolt in the bullseye, as though all her prior training had departed as Cara arrived.