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

by Yolandie Horak

  ***

  Varda peered into the chapel through a gap between the doors.

  Frank scowled at the guests from the front of the chapel. His bruises made him appear feral, especially since his best man looked no better. They resembled a pair of thugs in navy blue suits, though Frank wore a crown of gold and the royal sash around his chest—deepest azure, the colour of Mordoux. An empty sheath sat at his hip, and the bandages had been removed from his hands.

  The gods sure had made this test difficult for him. Those fingers had to be stiff after the beating he’d inflicted upon Nic. How was he going to grip an oily blade without ridding himself of a fingertip or two?

  The chapel was full. Soldiers, all of them. None of the nobles had come for this, but Varda had expected that. The peerage accepted her, grudgingly, but would never support her. Besides, if the nobles in Belle’Victoire had all disappeared on the same day, Sanshouo would notice.

  Her eyes filled at the rows upon rows of Dvarans and bears in the right half of the chapel. They had come, even Olaf and Sven, in the front row.

  Varda straightened her shoulders and handed Vendla the sword by the hilt. She anchored her elbows against her sides and held out her hands, palms flat.

  Vendla placed the blade on Varda’s palms, then lowered the ring onto the blade. She stepped in beside Varda, and they entered the chapel. Blizzard and Skjold stalked in behind them.

  The Mordians all stood. No music played, and the room was grave-quiet. Only their footsteps sounded.

  Frank studied their approach without any emotion.

  On either side of the pulpit, the sun played through slim, multi-coloured glass windows. Patches of coloured light fell on Varda’s dress as they approached. Pretty patterns.

  Once they reached the pulpit, Vendla kissed the side of Varda’s head and left to sit beside Olaf.

  “Hold out your hands,” Varda murmured.

  Frank complied, and she placed the blade on his palms, then took the ring.

  He tested the weight of the sword, then sheathed it without using the hilt. His hands remained uncut.

  Varda reached for his left hand and eased the ring over his swollen knuckle. “I am your wife,” she said.

  He led her to the pulpit, where a priest in white and blue now stood.

  The man was ancient, with eyebrows as wiry as shrubs, and a nose so large it hid his eyes. He spoke in a dialect of Mordian Varda couldn’t understand, in a slow, sing-song chant.

  She struggled to stay awake. The creeping light cast through the stained glass was her only measure of time.

  They’d been standing there for about an hour when the priest said something then gestured at Varda.

  “Left hand,” Frank whispered.

  She gave him her left hand and he slipped a simple golden band onto her ring finger, then took her hand in his and wove his fingers through hers. He reached over to pull a handful of hair over her shoulder, then twisted it around their joined hands. The priest spoke again, then Frank unwound the hair and wound it back around in the other direction.

  “I will love and cherish you, all the days of my life,” Frank said, then unwound the hair.

  The priest said something, arms spread out before him.

  Frank stepped closer and kissed Varda with about as much joy and passion as one might kiss a dead fish.

  A fish. Olaf’s last vision had featured a fish.

  Again, no music played, no cheers from the spectators. To the tomb-like silence, Frank placed her hand on his arm and led her from the chapel to his bedchamber.

  Another group of spectators followed. Vanadis’s teats, she needed courage. Sex was one thing. Sex with people watching, waiting for that first moment of penetration—that was a thing altogether wrong.

  The gods, the gods, the gods. For them, she’d face this and come out stronger on the other side. Ha. Come. Unlikely.

  Nic, Ghedi and Driessen, and Vendla, Blizzard and Skjold. They positioned themselves against a wall, a few steps away from the bed. Driessen looked about to be sick.

  Frank shook out his neck then turned on her. Varda didn’t have a moment to consider what would happen next, then his mouth was on hers and his hands in her hair.

  He turned her, guided her to the bed, all the while kissing her, and pushed her down between the pillows. He yanked off his jacket and stripped down.

  Varda reached to lift the slip-dress over her head, but he stopped her.

  “It’s bad luck for the bride to undress herself.” He removed her dress and paused as he studied her shape. “Didn’t know you had these.” He took her breasts in his hands.

  “Surprise,” she said.

  “I promised that priest I’d love you. I don’t.” He swallowed. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy this.”

  A small part of her raged, but what he’d said was true. She wasn’t on his bed because she loved him either. She would do this for her gods.

  “Frank,” she whispered so only he could hear, “just a question before we begin.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Is there an animal on your family crest?”

  He frowned and blinked. “Yes. A rooster.”

  Of course. Ash and blasted damnation, of course, he was the rooster. Which made her the damn fish.

  The fish had bitten the rooster, and she’d cling to that.

  Chapter 50

  Nathan stood outside Cara’s tent for what felt like an age.

  The camp was eerily quiet, aside from Olaf’s chickens clucking. With so many Dvarans at the ceremony, the usual bustle was non-existent.

  Marc glowered at him sidelong, jaw clenched, and one eyebrow raised. “If you’re not going in, you might as well leave.”

  Nathan took a breath of the humid air. He had to do this. He had to make it right, no matter how it might hurt. “Cara, can I—”

  “Just come inside already.”

  He stepped into her tent slowly, as though she were some sort of bird he might startle and send flying.

  Cara was dressed in another of Marc’s trouser-shirt combinations, navy and white this time, and lay on her stomach on the bed, legs raised, and ankles crossed. Her arms were folded under her head. “Is everyone still gone?”

  “They should come back soon.”

  She shifted up on her elbows. “Are you going to stand there for as long as you stood outside?”

  “How did you know I was there?” He sat in a folding chair.

  “Canvas is thin.” Her tone was cold, clipped.

  He couldn’t have expected more. The last time he’d been in this tent, he’d taken what she hadn’t offered. He’d been like Frank. It was time to be Nathan again. “I think I should explain.”

  Cara’s eyebrows and mouth flattened, and her lids lowered. “I doubt there’s anything you could say that would make this better, but go ahead.”

  He put his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle between them. “My mother was ill. It’s because of her condition that I specialised as a heart surgeon. I was young and cocky, and I thought I could do anything. So, I operated on her. Everything was going well, then my hand slipped, and I nicked an artery. Just a small cut, but—” He’d killed his mother. Useless, arrogant fool. He raised his hands and covered his face. “The diversion apparatus was still new technology, and I was too full of myself to acknowledge the danger until the blood had welled up so much that we couldn’t find the source of the leak. She bled out on the table.

  “My life pretty much ended, too. I couldn’t eat, sleep. I didn’t talk, and most days, I couldn’t breathe. My mother was dead because of me.

  “The pain was intense, and I needed it to go away. So, I took a painkiller. My body felt better, but my mind still hurt, so I took a sedative. Then I took both at the same time. It was wonderful. I forgot, and I could function, but when it wore off, the pain was so much worse. So, I made sure it never wore off.”

  “All right,” she said.

  Nathan stood and paced the other side of the tent
. “People left me. My first love, friends, eventually family. I hated them for leaving, for adding to my pain, and my need grew worse. I craved more all the time, then blamed it on everyone who’d left me. Pointy, Nita, Jerry, and Ahmed—they stayed. I hated them for staying with me as much as I hated myself for hurting them. I still couldn’t stop.

  “I tried different things. Swallowed the pills with alcohol. Ah. Injected it directly into my blood. The highs”—he shuddered—“were incredible. I wanted more, so I upped the dose. Stole from my own medical supplies until the staff noticed, then stole from my father’s, Nita’s.

  “I kept chasing that high until I almost killed myself. Pointy found me. Took me to the hospital. He couldn’t look at me, but he sat by my bed every day. Never abandoned me.”

  Cara nibbled on her thumb’s nail. “And?”

  Nathan rubbed his neck. “I’ve been struggling since that night of the attack. I, ah, killed someone. Or tried to. That outpost—what we saw there was brutal. I thought I’d dealt with my mother’s death, but all those emotions returned. As did the cravings. They worsened when we found out about the ethirin. It was so close, so close. I could try it once, then I’d know why people wanted it.”

  “Did you? Try the ethirin?”

  Ashes, why did that damn word have to sound like heaven on her lips? “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “Because you couldn’t find it?”

  “Probably.”

  “So, you’d throw away how many years of sobriety for this?”

  “I’ve been sober nine years.” He scratched his back, his stomach. “But the other day, I felt… So, I went to the liquor vendor, and bought a bottle of whiskey. I figured it would help for a while, just knock off the edge, and it’s not as bad as narcotics.”

  “No?” She snorted.

  “I struggled for hours not to drink it, and of course Nita walked in just as I was about to take a sip.”

  “And you bought the whiskey because of that kiss?”

  “Yes. Your brother was hurting you, you were being courted by another man, and I was jealous, all right?” He threw back his head and glared at the roof of the tent. “That and the fact that I shot someone, and even if Nita ended up killing him, it might as well have been me. I wanted to kill him. I saw people blown apart just last week. Pointy was missing and presumed dead. And besides everything that’s been happening lately, I killed my mother. I thought I was over it, but I’m clearly not.”

  Cara stood, arms crossed, her back so straight it seemed painful. “I’m really trying not to be angry, Nathaniel, but I asked. I asked how many times what had happened. I wanted to help you, to know the truth, but you said—”

  “I know what I said.”

  “And even when I wasn’t sure, you convinced me that you loved me and wanted to be with me.”

  “I do—”

  “I don’t doubt that. You do love me. Yet, you admitted that you used me, and that in a time where I’ve been used so much by so many people. The one thing they all have in common is how much they love me.”

  He gaped. What could he say to that? She was right.

  “You know, I could have forgiven you if you hadn’t said that you even thought to have sex with me while being high.” She paled, and brought her hands down, fisted by her sides.

  “I know I made a mistake, but—”

  “You don’t understand, Nathaniel. You admitted to using me, then you admitted that even when you used me, I wasn’t enough.” She retreated a step. “And if I’m not enough for you—”

  “You’re everything to me.” He crossed the distance she’d created between them and took her by her forearms. “Everything, Cara.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She shrugged him off and shifted out of his reach. “You made me feel worthless. Like a thing. You made me feel like those rapists made me feel. I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”

  His heart fell against his ribs. “What does that mean?”

  She rubbed her nose and eyes. “I don’t think we can be together.”

  Nathan’s body shook. He’d caused this, he deserved this, but Creator, it hurt.

  Yet… He deserved to lose her, but he couldn’t think like that. He’d fight for her, win her back. What other choice was there?

  He gaped for an eternity, willed his tongue to work. “I can make this right.”

  “Oh, sure.” She smiled in the same dead way as when she’d been with Nic. “Then tell me honestly you wanted me—only me and nothing else. Tell me I’d have been enough to take away the pain, to ease your suffering.”

  Black spots pulsed at the edge of his vision.

  The corners of her mouth turned down. “You see? You know it’s true. Just a day after you took my virginity, you were already thinking about what you could add to the experience to make it more enjoyable for you. You’d have found a way to do that, then what? Sex and a high wouldn’t have been enough, and you’d have added something else.”

  Nathan slumped into a chair. This wasn’t happening. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. He couldn’t breathe.

  “I love you, Nathan. I really do. This is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do, but Pointy is right. I can’t measure my worth against what you did.”

  “Pointy.” Shards of glass shot through his soul. “You discussed this with him.”

  Her gaze hardened. “Don’t use that tone with me. I needed a friend, and he was there. I needed to talk, and he listened.”

  “Do you have feelings for him?”

  Her cheeks turned red. “Yes, I have feelings for him, Nathaniel. Of course, I have feelings for him! He has stood by me through so much. He believed in me when nobody else did, and that includes you.”

  No, no, no, not this. “Romantic feelings, Cara.”

  “Who are you? Do you hear yourself? Do you see how this addiction is destroying you?” Her eyes were wide, her laugh high and shrill. “You were enough for me. Everything. Now you’ll be nothing. Get out.”

  He went cold, his fingers, his toes, his insides. “We can make this—”

  “We can’t anything. It’s over.” She turned her back on him. “Leave.”

  He went to her, folded his arms around her. “Cara, please.”

  She struggled free. “I said leave.”

  His muscles turned to mush. He wiped his eyes and took a breath. “I’ll make this right.”

  Cara sat on her bed, knees pulled up and her arms locked around her legs. “Please, just go away. Please. It hurts so much, and I can’t stand the sight of you.”

  Marc slapped the tent flap out of the way, nostrils flaring. “You know, you’re a physician and all, and I respected you once, but honestly, have some dignity. The queen told you to leave.”

  Fragments of Nathan’s soul fell away in a bread-crumb trail as he dragged his feet, dragged the remnants of his heart, back to his tent.

  He’d done this. He’d ruined the only good thing in his life, because he was too stupid to ask for help.

  Creator, he wanted a shot of something.

  ***

  He spent hours pacing to the sound of his grinding teeth.

  Dribbles of Dvarans returned from the wedding, and life resumed at camp. Except in Nathan’s tent.

  He had to fix this, but how?

  What he needed was to talk to a friend, but how many of those did he have left? Nita hadn’t spoken to him since surgery. Pointy would talk to him, but did he want to talk to Pointy when Pointy was such a good friend to Cara?

  Nathan groaned. Cara was right. He was losing his mind. Even if Pointy were in love with her, he would never do anything to jeopardise Nathan’s relationship with Cara. Of course, she loved him—he was the most loyal friend in the world—and he had been there for her in ways Nathan hadn’t. Of course, she felt close to Pointy. They’d survived a life-altering event together. Unlike Nathan, Pointy had listened to her when she’d needed to talk.

  Nathan had acted like a child, and each time he l
ost control of his emotions, he made it worse. So, he’d think straight, and win back Cara and his friends.

  How?

  The only other thing he’d done in the past few weeks, except obsess about highs and ruin everything, was shoot the crossbow with Ghedi.

  Ghedi would have useful advice—he was a good man. Problem was, Nathan couldn’t go anywhere near Ghedi when he was supposed to hide. Or could he?

  Cara was preparing to be a queen, and Ghedi would be a strong ally. He knew both the emperor and Frank, could speak multiple languages, and knew how to train troops. Maybe, if Nathan went to the castle, he could convince Ghedi to join Cara and the Dvarans when they left.

  That would be a good way to begin making amends for what he’d done.

  He’d be careful, go when it was fully dark. If Cara could sneak around, so could he.

  ***

  Nathan moved through the night as quietly as he could. The tented area was safe enough, but as he neared the keep, the number of street lights increased. Most people were asleep, but the odd nocturnal soul wandered around the dark.

  How many of them were Intelligence agents, still searching for Cara?

  Ashes, he should have thought this through. Too late now. He inhaled deeply and continued.

  He hurried through the gate in the keep wall, back into the shadows. So far, so good.

  Nathan sidestepped a pair of guards, hid behind a cottage when a group of wedding-attendants returned to their homes, then measured the distance between the last cottage and the castle’s entrance.

  The lights would make him clearly visible, but if he ran, he’d make it. He shook out his hands, took a few long breaths, and sprinted into the castle. Right into Nic.

  Nic looked up and down the hall, then grabbed Nathan by the elbow and shoved him into the first room he could open. “Are you stupid?”

  He looked like shit. Bruises in bright colours covered his face and hands, and a split lip had scabbed over.

  Nathan’s voice disappeared.

  “If Frank finds you here, he’ll kill you. You know that, right?” Nic shook his head. “You’re going to walk right back out of here, to wherever it is you’re hiding, and not come back.”