As if reading my mind, Nathanial’s fingers unlocked from my wrist, releasing me to stand by his side on my own accord. “I’ve done far worse.”
But I hadn’t.
I hadn’t even come close, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the only thing that separated me from an ice-veined King was false pride. I’d just never before been squeezed into a position where my only option was to abandon every moral fibre…and now I had.
Nathanial’s gaze went to the window and he stiffened.
I stepped closer to see, wished I hadn’t. I flinched as the whip cut across Tremaine’s back. The walls and glass were thick, but not thick enough to absorb the muffled agony in his scream. I turned my head, shut my eyes, shamed and sick to my stomach. Dear God, it was my hand that held that whip, my actions that flayed his skin.
“Don’t turn away,” Nathanial said, his rich baritone rumbling the words into an order. “The lad deserves that much at least, for you to bear witness.”
I didn’t look for Tremaine. I looked for myself. I watched the whip fly and bite into Tremaine’s flesh five more times, each lash a fresh wound to my soul. Because I knew that if I could go back to last night and do it all over, we’d be right here again, I’d make the same choices, and that I’d have to carry with me always.
Nathanial turned toward the stairs. “We should go.”
Before the men return. He didn’t need to say it. They wouldn’t want to see me here. Did everyone know the part I’d played in Markus’ escape? It didn’t even matter. I knew.
I hurried after Nathanial, feeling as if I were fleeing the scene of a crime I’d committed. I hadn’t been a good High Chancellor, or Queen, to all my people, to these men. I’d chosen my man over theirs. Well, I’d chosen a life over a punishment, but I’d also chosen Markus over Tremaine, mine over theirs. So long as that divide remained, us and them would feature in every difficult decision I made. Situations like this would arise again and again.
“What happens to Tremaine now,” I asked, thinking of the miller boy’s passion and dedication as we tramped through the wedge of wood to the castle. He’d fought so hard for his place in the King’s army, and I may have taken it all away. “Will he be discharged? Demoted?”
“It’s either that or the whipping post.” One stride ahead of me, Nathanial didn’t glance back. “Never both.”
Some small mercy.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I muttered, just barely loud enough for him to hear. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. I was overtired. I wasn’t thinking straight. But there was an urgency inside me now, a gut-wrenching admission that I’d made one mistake after the other. “You were right about faking it, the cracks are showing and innocent men are falling through.”
Nathanial slowed his pace, allowing me to catch up. “What are you saying?”
“I need to make this real.” I grabbed his arm, dragging us to a stop so I could look at him. “This marriage, this life I’m living, everything. I can’t be High Chancellor or Queen to anyone until I’m willing to be that to everyone. No more doubt and second-guessing. No more regret and wishing for what will never be. I need to be grounded.”
I paused for breath, watching the play of emotions cross his face. There wasn’t much he gave away, but there was a sharpening of interest, perhaps a blend of curiosity and caution that creased his eyes and flattened his mouth.
“I can’t forget our past,” I went on. “You killed my father and that cannot be undone.”
“I know,” he said simply, not looking for forgiveness.
He never had.
Any other person’s father, and I might have considered it. That was the full truth in all its bared warts. I understood the tough choices better now, how much they weighed. But this was personal.
“However,” I sighed, “I can push the past to the side a bit so it doesn’t overshadow every step of every day. This cannot be about me and my anger and bitterness and hurt and guilt, it’s bigger than that, bigger than me or you.” I ran my hands over my head, scooped my ponytail off my sweaty neck, looking into his eyes. They were the colour of storm clouds and I had no idea if that storm was coming or going. “You wanted me willing and here I am, Nathanial, that’s what I’m saying.”
He looked at me another moment, his gaze softening at the edges. “You mean it?”
“I mean it,” I said, nodding. “It won’t be easy for me, but either I have to kill you and damn the consequences or I have to step out from the past and commit to the duty and responsibility I was raised for.”
“I assume you’ve chosen the later?” he said with a questioning brow and half-smile.
I didn’t bother stating the obvious.
He blew out a slow breath, his head dipping as he looked at me with a contemplative frown, searching for Lord knew what.
I didn’t look away. There was nothing left of me to hide, nowhere left for me to hide from myself.
Satisfied with whatever conclusion he’d drawn, he gave a slow nod. “We’ll take supper in my room tonight. Just you and me.”
A private, intimate meal in his room. Apparently we weren’t wasting any time making this marriage real. It didn’t matter. I didn’t need more time, I needed to stop the endless circling and move forward.
- 22 -
A shower was my first priority. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl to munch on as I stripped down, then stepped into the cubicle and turned the temperature dial to blue. The cool water ran through my hair, streamed over every inch of my body, but it couldn’t wash away the layers of bone-deep weariness. Not just exhaustion from lack of sleep. I felt like every ounce of my emotions had been spent. My soul and spirit had run dry.
After the shower, it took me all of five seconds to choose the strappy, sunset orange dress from my small selection over the usual shirt and leather pants. I wasn’t the High Chancellor tonight. I wasn’t the Queen. I was going to this dinner as Nathanial’s wife.
I had yielded. I had finally submitted and I wanted him to know it so we could put away the games that cast a net wider than the pair of us.
I swiped a bunch of grapes and curled up on the sofa with my bare feet tucked beneath me. I felt oddly calm about the dinner that would no doubt lead to Nathanial’s bed. I hadn’t slept with a man before, and this was Nathanial. The boy who’d snuck into my teenage fantasies. The King who’d turned my world into a living nightmare. The man who’d made me ache with that unwanted desire I wasn’t a hundred-percent sure I could control or snap out of again.
I popped a grape into my mouth and rested my head on the plump sofa cushioning, unable to conjure up the worry it probably deserved. Markus was still out there, exiled and hunted. Tremaine’s back bore the bloodied lashes of my sins. Right now, the prospect of bedding my husband didn’t rank very high up on my list of things to stress about or dread.
That was my last conscious thought before my eyes fluttered open, slowly focusing on the prickling grey stare that had woken me.
Nathanial perched on the arm of the chair opposite me, legs stretched out, arms folded, his mouth lifting into a grin as he watched me. “I wasn’t sure if I should leave you to sleep.”
“You still can,” I grumbled, stretching out of my curl. “This time without the stare.”
“You looked uncomfortable and…” His gaze dropped to the half-eaten bunch of grapes clutched in my hand “…hungry. Our food has been served.”
“You should have opened with that.” I pulled myself off the sofa, stomach crunching at the thought of proper food. “I’m starved.”
He led the way through to his bedroom and I followed, not bothering with shoes. It wasn’t as if he’d dressed for the occasion. He wore black buckskin pants and a soft cotton shirt that fell open at his throat and billowed slightly where it tucked into his waist. My gaze drifted lower, over his backside and down the muscular thighs defined beneath that leather. Unease fluttered in my breast. Although Nathanial wasn’t an overly big man, the strength leashed to his l
ean muscle was undeniable.
The inside of his bedroom was only marginally less male and primate than the man himself. Browns set off with dark creams, the furnishing all solid chunks of wood that probably accounted for the essence of Sandalwood that lingered in the air.
A table had been set by the open window to take advantage of the fading daylight and gentle breeze. Nathanial walked around to pull my chair out and as I sat, my eyes fell hungrily on the silver-covered plate before me. I lifted the cover and discovered thin slices of lamb, diced pumpkin and roasted potato.
“Go ahead,” Nathanial said with a throaty chuckle as he took his seat across from me and reached for the bottle of corked wine.
I deposited the cover on the trolley beside our table and tucked in while he poured the wine. “Sorry,” I said between mouthfuls. “I really am starving.”
He raised his glass to me, then settled back in his chair to take a sip. His gaze rolled to the ceiling, then back to me. “What do you know about the shield?”
The shield? “Some say it’s magic, others say it’s science.”
“What do you say?”
I shrugged, cut into a piece of meat. “I don’t believe in magic.”
“And that’s as much as you know?”
I chewed, swallowed, my brain clicking over as I looked at him. “I’m guessing you know more?”
“Most of that knowledge died with Devon, unfortunately,” he said. “But I can fill in some gaps for you.”
My fork stilled over the cube of pumpkin I’d been about to stab. I’d always suspected my father knew the secrets of the shield. And it made sense Nathanial did, too, but he’d always been close-mouthed when I’d asked. “Why now?”
“Because now you’re ready.” He set his glass down and sat forward to uncover his plate. “You can’t truly let go of the past until you know what you’re letting go of. And to know that, we have to go back to the very beginning.”
A thrill tickled my spine. “To the beginning of the kingdom, when the shield first came up?”
“Actually, our past started years before that,” Nathanial said. “The first High Chancellor, Henry Welsh, was a nuclear physicist.”
I heard only one word and it dimmed that thrill significantly. “Nuclear? As in the missiles that destroyed our planet?”
“Something like that, but Henry had nothing to do with the missiles. Not all nuclear power was weaponized.” He put a forkful of meat in his mouth and left me hanging until he’d swallowed. “The old world consumed a lot of energy, more than you or I could possibly imagine, and everything from their automobiles to gadgets ran on power cells that had to be charged, and that energy came from nuclear power plants.”
My expression must have blanked. He realized he’d lost me and explained, “You know the solar sheets that power our electrics? Well, nuclear plants are like those sheets, except they produced massive amounts of energy. The fallout from disruptions or leaks at the plants, however, was as deadly as those missiles. Henry Welsh was the head scientist of the team that created the containment shield, a bio-dome that sprung over the plant when the alarm was raised to keep the nuclear fallout trapped inside while they resolved the problems.”
I listened carefully while I ate, but I must have missed something. “I don’t understand. Our shield has been trapping the fallout inside here with us all this time?”
“No, of course not. After his great achievement, Henry turned his research to reversing the shield, to keep the poisonous air out. The world was in a state of chaos. It was overpopulated and the climate was changing, swamping lands with flood waters, turning other parts arid and barren, causing droughts and famines and shortages of everything. The world was in a flux of never-ending wars, and some countries had unstable leaders. Henry believed it was only a matter of time before one of those wars escalated into a nuclear catastrophe.”
Nathanial sipped his wine. “At some point, however, Henry realized his reversed shield would be the deadliest weapon ever created. If any country got access to it, they could protect themselves from the repercussions if they launched nuclear missiles. His work was too important to abandon, too dangerous to continue. That’s when the relationship between your family and ours began. Nial Glamorgan was an Earl of Glamorgan, a powerful, immensely rich man who owned all the land around us, inside and beyond the shield. He struck a deal with Henry, to fund his continued research in private and build this safe haven here, just in case. Nial started settling people here, men and women and families who’d had enough of the chaos and were happy to live by his law and reset to a slower way of life.”
“So, what happened?” I asked. “Did one country get access to his shield anyway and launch the missiles?”
“Not to my knowledge, but then I only know the facts from the Glamorgan perspective,” Nathanial said. “Some countries had other measures in place, counterstrike weapons to defend against incoming missiles. They thought they were safe, stronger and untouchable. The first flight of missiles were launched from coordinates within the borders of Russia. The Russians immediately denied responsibility, but America, France and China retaliated and then Russia launched missiles in a counter attack. The defence weapons neutralized some of the missiles while they were airborne, but the scale of the attack was overwhelming and then the world went black.”
“How do you know all this?” I whispered, my food forgotten as I leant back and reached for my glass.
“The royal archives,” Nathanial said. “The Glamorgan history has been chronicled since 1466 AD and we’ve continued right up until the present. Nial Glamorgan was an influential man with friends in governments around the world. Henry Welsh, too, he had close sources in the nuclear industry. They were together when the calls came in. Limited technology was brought into the kingdom, but Nial and Henry made sure they could get news feeds from around the globe. They watched the world implode around them until the communications went dark. Henry believed no part of the planet would be spared, not even the places that didn’t suffer from direct missile impacts. He said the fallout would travel in the atmosphere and cover the planet like a toxic blanket.”
I blew out a ragged breath. I didn’t quite know why I found this story so depressing. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t known all my life. The old world was gone. Wiped out by flights of nuclear missiles that rained down over every corner of the earth like apocalyptic spears of vengeful gods.
“Nial Glamorgan styled himself as King,” Nathanial continued. “The Glamorgan Earls have a colourful history of plotting for Scotland’s crown, but it wasn’t only that. He genuinely felt that a small, confined society such as ours would fall apart in a democracy. There needed to be a very clear chain of command, as well as a direct line of continuance to carry the truth of our beginnings and the burden of the shield.”
“Did the shield have to be such a big secret?” I said softly, overwhelmed to finally be learning about the legacy of my birth right. Oh, Father, why? Instinctively, I knew that Nathanial could only give me a taste. My father should have been the one to paint in the middle with our family stories passed down the generations. “Why couldn’t everyone just know the truth?”
Nathanial laughed. “Knowledge is power, Rose. Few men would hand that over, and certainly not men like Nial Glamorgan and Henry Welsh. To their credit, though, the real truth of the shield was better left untold. You see, every ten years the shield needs to be reset and that can only be done by the High Chancellor. Every ten years, the kingdom was at risk and potentially vulnerable. That’s no way for a community to thrive, never sure if it was worth planning beyond the next decade.”
“Ten years, that’s how long we were in the mountains,” I exclaimed, my mind rushing ahead of itself. “My father reset the shield before he fled, and now it’s ten years later. This is what everything has been about. You need me here to reset the shield.”
The ramble caught in my throat as the words I spoke caught up to me. My eyes kicked wide open on him. “You do rea
lize my father never taught me how to reset the shield.”
“There was much he should have taught you, but not that, thank God,” Nathanial said. “The reset switch is encased behind a biometric lock and you are the key.”
“I don’t have any special key,” I said dumbly.
“You are the key, Rose. All you have to do is place your hand on the lock.” He set his wine glass down and placed his own hand palm down on the table. “It reads your fingerprints, your pulse, and takes a prick of your blood to analyse. Devon took you down there to imprint your DNA. You wouldn’t remember, you were less than a year old. From that moment on, only you could be the next High Chancellor. The lock evolves to accept the slight variance from the current High Chancellor to direct descendant, any other deviation, including siblings, would be rejected. Once you were imprinted, only one of your children could succeed you as High Chancellor, the first one imprinted.”
My mouth fell open. “That seems excessive.”
“Henry Welsh built the biometric lock as a safety mechanism to ensure the bloodline and power of the High Chancellor.”
“Balance of power.”
Nathanial nodded. “There’d be no kingdom for the Glamorgans to rule if the shield came down. And if the Glamorgans couldn’t rule their own kingdom, they’d be damned before they handed it to anyone else, they’d eliminate the High Chancellor. In theory, it would never come to that. If either party broke the agreement, there’d be only losers.”
“And I’m all that stands between the kingdom and the poisoned world out there.” I sipped on my wine. Gulped at it, really. “Does any of this make sense to you? Seriously? What if I just stopped breathing? What if I fell off a horse tomorrow and broke my neck? What if I caught the cough next summer and—”
“Okay, I get it.” Nathanial held a hand up to cut through my death scenarios. “You’re dead, what then? There’s a contingency plan.”
“The famous contingency plan.” He’d mentioned it before, but it wasn’t much help. “You don’t know what it is and I sure as hell don’t.”
The Traitor's Daughter Page 21
