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Broken Dove

Page 53

by Kristen Ashley


  Apollo looked from his boots to Frey’s mother to see her eyes were aimed at her son and they were slits.

  “What, precisely, have I done to you that you feel it’s appropriate to treat me in this manner?” she asked.

  “Precisely, nothing,” Frey answered immediately. “And a mother who does nothing is no mother at all. Thus, I have no qualms treating you in this manner.”

  She stared at her son a moment before she swallowed.

  Frey spoke on.

  “Now, why are you here with bird nor man bringing news you would be?”

  “My message was too sensitive to trust to bird or man,” she answered.

  “And your message?” Frey prompted.

  She drew in breath through her nose, looked to Apollo, then back to her son and declared, “Antoine has perished.”

  “Fuck,” Frey muttered as her words made Apollo straighten from the desk.

  Frey looked to him and Apollo shook his head.

  Frey turned his attention back to his mother.

  “Franka sent you with this message,” he stated.

  “She did,” she confirmed.

  “How did he die?” Apollo asked.

  Valeria looked to him. “They have had him, and have been torturing him, for a great deal of time. There is only so much a body can take. He simply expired.”

  Apollo raised a brow. “And they shared this directly with Franka?”

  She shook her head. “As she would, during her discussions with them, Franka demanded to see him again to ascertain his condition. It was a coincidence, and I daresay a grave error…theirs…that when they opened the mirror to show him to her, he took his final breath.”

  At that, Apollo felt something he thought he would never in his life feel.

  Sorry for Franka Drakkar.

  He then felt Frey’s gaze and turned his eyes to his cousin.

  “They no longer have anything to hold over her,” he noted.

  “And therefore she’d have no reason to act for them,” Apollo replied.

  “True,” Valeria put in and both men looked to her. “But Franka is a Drakkar. As you bid, she shared with them that you erroneously came to the conclusion that it was Kristian who was behind the plot against”—her eyes slid to Apollo—“Madeleine. Also as you bid, she shared that you’ve imprisoned him and his family in the dungeons of Brunskar to await transport to Snowdon to stand trial for treason. A guilty verdict that carries a sentence from which any sister would wish to save her brother. Although her lover is dead and they have nothing to hold over her, her brother is incarcerated and what he would face if found guilty means she has something to bargain with. And this she’s doing. The plan proceeds as hatched, with that alteration.”

  “Her bargain?” Apollo prompted.

  “That once they have done what they wish to do, Kristian and his family will be freed and she, as well as her brother, will be allowed to continue their lives unhindered by whatever malice they intend,” Valeria answered. “But, as you wished, she has pressed them to act and do it quickly, now doing so in order to save Kristian rather than to halt the torture of her lover.”

  “And we’re to believe Franka continues to put herself in jeopardy for kin and country?” Frey asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.

  Valeria cut sharp eyes to her son. “They killed her lover.”

  “Indeed,” Frey replied. “But this is Franka. I’m certain she’ll find something to amuse her that will assuage her grief.”

  She lifted her chin and held her son’s gaze. “It is clear you do not know your cousin well, my son. They tortured then killed the only man she’s ever loved. This is not for kin and country. This is for vengeance.”

  “That, I can believe,” Frey murmured.

  “Then I bid you to believe it,” Valeria retorted. “She was not wailing her despair when she imparted her message on me. But she was determined. Exceptionally determined. And I do believe you know your cousin well enough to know what that means.”

  It was then Frey lifted his chin.

  He knew.

  At this juncture, a knock came on the door and Apollo called, “Come.”

  Lucretia appeared holding a large silver tray on which was tea, to which Valeria said irately, “Finally.”

  Apollo ignored her and moved, ordering Lucretia, “See to Lady Drakkar.”

  When she nodded, he looked to Frey but Frey was already moving to the door.

  Once outside it, Apollo closed it and followed Frey who’d continued walking.

  They stopped some ten feet away from the study and turned to each other.

  “Your thoughts?” Frey asked.

  “I would like to look in Franka’s face when those words were delivered,” Apollo answered. “But I cannot think that she spoke false to your mother. Our protections are such that they cannot break them. If she’s shared our plan, they’d know it was an ambush and she would not be suggesting we carry on with it as it stands. She’d be altering it.”

  “Agreed. There are no vulnerabilities to our plans and Franka knows this.”

  Apollo nodded.

  “I’ll send a return message through my mother,” Frey stated.

  “And I’ll leave you to do that. I must have a word with my son,” Apollo replied and Frey’s focus on him intensified.

  “All is well?”

  “Not close,” Apollo confided. “But I’m working on it.”

  “I couldn’t help but note that today, Madeleine spent some time in your study with you,” Frey observed.

  “At least with that, all is well.”

  “I’m glad of it, cousin,” Frey murmured. “The rift was concerning Finnie. However, she feels she doesn’t know Maddie well enough to broach it.”

  He tipped his head to Frey. “Feel free to share this news with your wife to ease her worries. Now, I must see to my son.” He looked to the door of the study then back to Frey. “In order to rest before she again leaves, your mother is welcome to stay the night here.”

  Frey grinned before noting, “Well done, saying that without wincing.”

  Apollo shook his head feeling his lips quirking..

  “However,” Frey went on, “I believe she’ll be perfectly comfortable at The Swan.”

  Frey wanted her under Karsvall’s roof less than Apollo did.

  “Your choice,” Apollo murmured.

  Frey nodded and turned toward the study doors.

  Apollo moved to the stairs.

  He found Christophe in the first place he looked, his room.

  His son was sitting at his desk, head bent, quill in hand, scribbling on a piece of paper.

  His was so engrossed in this endeavor Apollo leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and took the time to enjoy watching his son’s concentration for long moments before he saw Christophe start and look his way.

  “Papa,” he said.

  “If you’re at your studies, Chris, I won’t disturb you,” Apollo replied.

  Chris quickly turned the paper on his desk over as he shook his head and stated, “I’m not at my studies.”

  He was writing and what he was writing was not Apollo’s to see. That was his son’s prerogative, it always was and it always would be. Apollo never read Christophe’s writing unless asked to do so. Indeed, no one did, unless it was an assignment from his tutor. And Christophe was very particular about who he allowed to read it.

  It had heartened him when Christophe had offered that gift to Maddie on the way to Brunskar. However, as things were as they were, he had since reneged.

  Still, Apollo took this as an invitation and entered the room.

  Christophe didn’t move from his chair so Apollo came to a stop several feet in front of his desk.

  “I’ve been told,” he started cautiously, not sharing who told him even knowing his son would know, “that you’ve overhead some servants gossiping.”

  Red crept into Christophe’s cheeks as he looked down to the quill he was still holding, a quill he was tw
irling in his fingers.

  Apollo waited the time it took Christophe to speak.

  Finally, he did.

  “They said some things about Grandpapa.”

  “I know,” Apollo told him and gained his son’s eyes. “This is unfortunate, Chris. Although unfortunate, I wish you to know that I had intended to share this with you when you were older.”

  A stubborn firmness starting setting in Christophe’s face, that same firmness Apollo had seen often whenever it was mentioned he was too young for anything, so Apollo continued.

  “Alas, you know of it now. Likely not all of it and I will not take this opportunity to share the rest. You’re still too young.”

  “But—” Christophe started.

  “You’re too young, my son,” Apollo stated quietly. “What I will tell you now is that a long time ago, your grandfather made a decision. It is my opinion that it was the wrong decision. When it’s your time to know the fullness of this story, you’ll be old enough to form your own opinion. But regardless of either of our opinions, it has all long since happened and there is nothing we can do to change it now.”

  Christophe held his eyes and declared, “Auntie Lynne was your mother.”

  “She was, and in the ways she could be, she was a good one.”

  “You grew up without her.”

  “I did and I didn’t.” It was he who held his son’s eyes when he shared, “There is much a mother will do to be with her children. My mother did all that.”

  Christophe looked back to his quill. “You…you had to…” he trailed off and said no more.

  “Chris, son, please look at me,” Apollo called and Christophe lifted his eyes to his father. “I did not suffer. It was the life I knew and I had her love. I had my father’s love. It was not a usual situation but it was mine.”

  “Is this why Grandmother never comes to see us?” he asked. “Because we aren’t hers?”

  “It is,” Apollo confirmed.

  “Is she angry?” he asked.

  “I can’t know. What I do know is that she’s feeling something that keeps her away and that might be what she’s feeling. She also may be sad. But whatever it is, it’s hers to feel and her decision to stay away.”

  “Was she mean to you?” he whispered.

  “Never,” Apollo replied. “When I was older, I would understand why she was as she was with her husband. But she never was that way with me.”

  “The maids said—”

  “The maids know little and should have said nothing at all. And this, Chris, is the lesson you should take from what’s happened. When you speak, you must be aware of what you say, how it can be taken and who may hear it. But mostly, if you speak at all, you should know what you’re talking about.”

  He nodded to confirm he’d heard his father’s message then rubbed his lips together before he asked, “Did…erm, well…Maddie…is she…?” He drew in a deep breath and let it out, saying quietly, “She seemed very sad.”

  “What they said wounded her deeply. We talked about this, she’s feeling better now.”

  Apollo felt relief sweep through him when he saw the same on his son’s face.

  This was short-lived, however, before he returned to looking troubled.

  Apollo would know why when he asked, “Are you sending her away?”

  “No,” Apollo replied and when he did, unfortunately his son hid his reaction so Apollo could not know his thoughts.

  “They said you were sending her away,” Christophe noted.

  “They were in error,” Apollo explained.

  Christophe rubbed his lips together again.

  Apollo let him for a while before he took a chance.

  “As I explained, your sister and I enjoy her company. Maddie also enjoys ours. I’ve asked her to dinner tonight but she has refused, worried about you and what you’d heard. She also is simply worried about you. I would like for her to join us again soon. I can find my times with her, as can Élan, times we don’t share with you. Therefore, if you don’t wish her company, I need you to tell me.” He lowered his voice when he finished, “But I must be honest with you, my son. You must follow your heart and I hope you always share with me freely what’s in it. I will do my best to listen with no recriminations. I will return that favor right now and share that for your sister, for me, and also for Maddie, I would hope you will dig deep and find times that we can all share together. If you can’t, this will be understood. But that does not negate the fact that I hope that you can.”

  “I think…” Christophe shook his head but then kept talking. “I think she was so sad because she thought you were sending her away.”

  “You think correctly.”

  He rubbed his lips together some more before he noted, “She’s nice to Élan.”

  “She cares for her deeply.”

  Christophe looked back at his quill and kept his attention there when he spoke on. “You were angry with her for looking for me.”

  “I was,” Apollo confirmed.

  “I got her into trouble,” Chris whispered to his quill and Apollo’s gut tightened with hope.

  “She and I have spoken, Chris,” he said gently. “And that is past. She will not do something so foolish again, even if moved to do it through her concern for you and Élan, and I will not lose my temper with her in the manner I did.”

  Christophe said nothing, simply contemplated his quill.

  Apollo decided he’d had enough.

  So he changed the subject by asking softly, “Are you done with your studies, son?”

  Christophe looked to him and nodded.

  “I have not tested you with your sword in some time,” Apollo remarked and watched his son’s eyes light. He smiled at him and turned to the door, ordering, “Get our swords. I’ll meet you outside.”

  “But, it’s gone dark, Papa,” Christophe called to his back.

  At the door, Apollo turned back to his son.

  “Then it’s good we have torches. But not every swordfight is fought in the sun, Chris. To be prepared, you must be prepared for anything.”

  Christophe nodded enthusiastically.

  “Swords,” Apollo prompted.

  Down went the quill and up went his son out of his seat.

  He dashed to his wardrobe.

  Apollo drew in a breath and let it out as he walked out of the room.

  It was only when he was well down the hall that he allowed himself to smile.

  * * * * *

  “And at that, Princess Arianna stepped onto the cloud…”

  Apollo stopped reading and looked down at his daughter.

  She was asleep.

  Then again, she always fell asleep at that part the third time he read it.

  He closed the book softly and laid it on her nightstand. Carefully disengaging her from his arm around her, he rolled her to her side and exited her bed. He pulled the covers up high over her and tucked her in before he bent deep to brush a kiss on her temple. He then straightened, turned out the lamps and walked out of the room, keeping the door open an inch as she liked it.

  He moved to Christophe’s room and saw his door opened an inch.

  As he liked it.

  He pushed it open further and moved through the darkened room toward his son’s bed. The light from the hall barely illuminated the space. Therefore Apollo gave it time for his eyes to adjust before he bent over his boy, pulled the covers to his neck and carefully tucked him in.

  Awake, he was too old for it.

  Asleep, Apollo could do as he liked.

  So he brushed his fingers across his son’s brow, sweeping the hair away from his skin. Then he bent and touched his lips to that hair before he straightened and moved away.

  He was halfway across the room when he heard a sleepy, “Papa.”

  He turned and softly replied, “I woke you.”

  “No.”

  Apollo said nothing.

  Christophe didn’t either.

  When this lasted some time, Ap
ollo asked, “Do you need something, Chris?”

  There was a long hesitation before Christophe answered, “No…I just…” Another hesitation before, “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

  Apollo strode back to the bed, bent in and wrapped his hand around the side of his son’s neck.

  “Goodnight, my son,” he whispered.

  “’Night, Papa,” Chris whispered back.

  Apollo gave his neck a squeeze then moved back to the door. He pulled it to almost closed behind him but kept it open an inch, as Christophe liked it.

  He then moved to his room, grabbed the cloak that was lying across the foot of his bed and exited his room swinging it on.

  He found Torment as he requested, blanketed and saddled, waiting for him at the foot of the steps at the front of Karsvall.

  He mounted his horse and kicked in his heels.

  Torment burst into a gallop across the snow.

  He made the dower house quickly and noted when he did that there were lights streaming around the curtains from more windows than normal. The front sitting room. Maddie’s upstairs bedroom. From the side where the kitchen was. From the back where her maids stayed.

  He rode Torment to the stables, made short work of settling him in for the night and as he left, he made certain to secure the door against the chill.

  Instead of moving to the front of the house as he would normally do, with the light coming from the kitchen, thinking perhaps Maddie sat with her friends there for an evening natter, he approached the side door.

  He opened it and closed it swiftly to limit the draught he allowed in. Once he’d dropped the bar to lock it for the night, he turned to the kitchen to see only Cristiana sitting in a tufted chair by the fire, feet up on a small padded stool, shawl around her shoulders, knitting in her lap.

  Her head was turned to him and her face was expressionless when she greeted him much less enthusiastically than normally.

 

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