The Betrothed

by Kiera Cass

  “Scarlet? Is that you? Oh, thank goodness!” She ran over, clutching her child as she wept violently. “My girl! I still have my girl!”

  I looked at the house. Nothing stirred. Was she the only one left?

  “Were those the Darkest Knights?” I asked, though I was already quite sure.

  Lady Eastoffe whipped her head over to me. “How do you even know about them?” she asked, turning back to touch every inch of Scarlet’s face, unable to believe she was still there.

  “Valentina. Silas.”

  She shook her head, turning back to her daughter. “I thought they’d let us live in peace if we left, but I was wrong.”

  This made no sense. “Why would they do this to you?”

  “Oh, Mother, they came in with masks down and swords drawn, stabbing at anyone in their way, even the maids. I don’t know what happened to me. . . . I froze. I couldn’t fight.”

  “You aren’t supposed to fight. You know that,” her mother urged. “You’re supposed to run!”

  “A man took me by my shoulders, he held me for a moment, and I thought he was just going to kill me slowly. But then he grabbed me by the wrist and threw me outside. I tried to run, but I still couldn’t move. I crawled into the bushes and hid. I wanted to fight, Mother. I wanted to hurt them.”

  Lady Eastoffe held her tighter.

  “They spared me, and I don’t know why! And I watched . . . I saw . . .” She broke into sobs, unable to speak of it anymore.

  I shook my head. I didn’t understand any of this. Hitching up my skirt, I moved to go inside.

  “What are you doing?” Lady Eastoffe asked.

  “Checking for survivors.”

  Her blue eyes were hollow. “Hollis, listen to me. There won’t be any.”

  I swallowed. “I have . . . I have to . . .”

  She shook her head. “Hollis, please,” Lady Eastoffe said, her voice alone a clear warning. “That will do you more harm than good.”

  The air of certainty around her words, as if this was nothing new, chilled me, despite the heat from the flames beginning to engulf the entire east wing of the manor. Maybe it was only in my head that we waited so we could live and go back to find survivors. Maybe it was already in hers that she knew we wouldn’t.

  “I have to . . .”

  She lowered her head as I pressed forward.

  I walked into the house and was almost immediately run over by a servant carrying golden plates, running as if his life depended upon it. I sucked in a breath of hope, believing someone must have made it, but I instantly regretted the move as I coughed over the smoke.

  Turning toward the great hall, where only moments ago we’d been toasting the future, I saw great tongues of fire devouring the tables and the tapestries and someone who looked to be Saul. He’d been brought down just by the door.

  I dropped my eyes to the floor, covering my mouth to hold in the screams.

  She was right. Simply seeing that had made the entire thing that much worse. Now, instead of the collective group dying, I had a face, an image. I was never going to forget the blood, the smell.

  I wanted to keep going. I could try to find Silas. But the fire was set in more places than we could see from outside . . . and there were no cries for help. If Silas had made a plan for me, one in which I survived, I would have to walk away now. Because seeing him in pieces or being consumed by flames would not be something I lived through. And if I walked much farther in, I might not make it back out.

  I coughed, struggling to breathe, and ran back outside.

  Lady Eastoffe took in the horror on my face and nodded once. I looked over at Scarlet and had to guess my expression was a hollow echo of hers. She was lost in what she’d just seen, and I could see all the ghosts in her eyes. I walked down and embraced her, and she held on to me tight for just a minute.

  Taking Scarlet’s hand and mine, Lady Eastoffe turned toward the path they’d freshly laid out for my wedding and stared.

  “Where will we go?” Scarlet asked.

  “Varinger Hall, of course,” I suggested dully.

  Lady Eastoffe pulled her chin up and started walking. “Come, my girls. It won’t do to look back.”

  But I did look back. I watched as the curtains carried the fire up, up, up. She was right; we had to keep walking.

  It was obvious to me now that this family must have seen at least one moment like this before. How else could they step away from it so calmly, as if it was only a matter of time before another moment landed in their laps? Why else would they map out how at least one of them should try to live if they could?

  Silas had told me about the Darkest Knights in a way that put some distance between them and him. But there was no doubt they’d come face-to-face before. It was just that this time, he didn’t walk away from the meeting.

  If we had been thinking, we might have gone by the stables for a horse. Instead, we walked in silence, trudging toward my childhood home. It ought to have given me a sense of security, knowing I was finally going to pass through the doors of Varinger Hall again. All I could think of was why I had to . . . I’d have rather stayed locked out forever. My ears were on high alert, listening for the sound of horses or screams or anything that might have told me to start running.

  There were no horses, though. Or screams. Just us.

  When we finally approached the front gate, a steward was waiting for us on the steps. He held out a lantern, seeing there were three shapes instead of two, that there were only female silhouettes, and that the fine carriage was nowhere to be seen.

  “Wake up! Wake up!” he called into the house. By the time we were at the front steps, there was a small army of staff to attend our needs, including the sweet lady who’d brought me letters when I lived at Abicrest Manor.

  “Lady Hollis! What has happened to you?” she asked. “Where are your parents?”

  Instead of answering, I collapsed in a heap and screamed.

  Thirty-Three

  IT HIT ME THEN, THOUGH I’d been aware of it for hours. My parents were dead. My husband was dead. I was alone.

  “They won’t be coming home,” Lady Eastoffe whispered to her on my behalf. Her face was steady but hollow, with two clear tracks down her cheeks where tears had washed through the soot and dirt. Even like that, she looked noble. She went to move up the steps and was cut off by one of the staff.

  “We won’t shelter you,” he said, his chest puffed up. “Our masters hated your kind, and they—”

  “Do you think any of that matters now?” Hester spat back. “They’re dead. And Lady Hollis is the mistress of this house now, so you’d better get used to taking your orders from her. These are her people, and they will be fed and taken care of.”

  “She’s right,” someone else muttered. “Lady Hollis is the mistress of the house now.”

  “I’ll see you to the drawing room,” Hester said.

  “Thank you. Come on, my girl. Up we go.” Lady Eastoffe pulled me to my feet, and we dragged ourselves into the main drawing room, thankful for the fireplace. I crashed onto the ground closest to it, warming my aching hands. Scarlet was crying so quietly, only occasionally making a sound, and I didn’t blame her. There was so much to feel. Sorrow for what we’d lost, guilt for being spared, fear of what might come next.

  “It will be all right,” Mother whispered to Scarlet, stroking her hair. “We will make a new home, I promise.”

  Scarlet leaned her head into her mother, and I could sense that this promise was not enough to undo what had just happened. My eyes flicked up to Lady Eastoffe, and I could see her gaze was unfixed, staring into nothing. She had the sense to make me stay put, she had the perseverance to make us get up and walk, and I had no doubt she would carry us both through the next few days . . . but I could see she was shaken, changed. This thing they said they’d been preparing for had come, and now she was left with the heartbreaking aftermath.

  “Why would they do this?” I asked again, not really expecting any mo
re of an answer. “They killed everyone save Scarlet, lit a fire, and took nothing. I don’t understand.”

  Lady Eastoffe closed her eyes and drew in a labored breath. “Unfortunately, dear Hollis, we do.”

  I looked up at Lady Eastoffe. “This has happened to you before, hasn’t it?”

  “Not like this,” she said, shaking her head and finally settling herself into a chair. “But we’ve lost people before. And goods. Been scared out of our home. . . . I just didn’t think the threat would follow us here.”

  I shook my head. “You’re going to have to explain better than that.”

  She sighed, trying to steady herself, when the staff came scurrying in carrying trays and towels and large bowls of water. A maid placed a plate with bread and pears beside me, though I didn’t think I could stomach anything at the moment. Lady Eastoffe thanked the maids as she dipped her hands in the water, washing dirt and ash from her face.

  As soon as they were gone, she turned back to me.

  “Do you remember our first day at the castle?”

  It brought a weak smile to my lips, even as silent tears slid down my face. “I’ll never forget it.”

  “When King Jameson recognized our name, I was sure one of two things was going to happen. Either he was going to unceremoniously punish us . . . perhaps put us in a tower or kick us out altogether. Or he was going to collect us, have us be one of his most visible families at court, constantly in service. I was shocked when he was willing to let us eventually settle wherever we wanted, that he let us settle at all.”

  “But why would he do either of those things?”

  She rested her head on the high-backed chair, staring at the ceiling. “Because things like that tend to happen to those on the fringes of royalty.”

  I stared at her, trying to make sense of the words. “Royalty?”

  “This is a bit of an untidy history,” she started, leaning forward. “I’ll try to keep it simple. King Quinten is the direct descendant of Jedreck the Great. The crown was passed to Jedreck’s firstborn son, and Quinten is of that line, so the crown has been his. But Jedreck the Great had three sons and four daughters.

  “Some married into other royal lines, some chose a quiet life of service to the crown, and others have died off, complete dead ends. The Eastoffe family is one of the branches of that family tree that still lives. The direct descendants of the fifth-born child, Auberon. The ring on your finger was his, given to him by his father, the king.”

  I looked down at the sapphire, completely well matched to Isolten blue, and I considered this. I couldn’t find a single memory of our time together to support such a story.

  “Besides Quinten and Hadrian, obviously, and us, there is only one other family that belongs to the Pardus line: the Northcotts. Do you remember them?”

  I nodded. Etan had made an unfortunately unforgettable impression on me. There was no way that boy had a drop of regal blood in him.

  “Between our three families lie the remnants of the royal line, of anyone else living who could have a claim to the throne. But . . . seeing as male heirs are usually the most viable, and my husband and sons . . . my sons . . .” She burst into tears, weeping uncontrollably. I bet she had wells and wells of tears. I certainly did.

  Scarlet balled herself up into a tighter knot on her chair, feeling her own deep and dark grief; she’d seen too much today. So I was the one who jumped up and wrapped my arms around her mother.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I know,” she sobbed, holding me back. “And so am I. For your sake. To be orphaned so young. I’m so sorry, Hollis. I never would have agreed to any of this if I thought you were in danger. I thought they’d leave us be.”

  “But who are these Darkest Knights?” I asked, remembering that even Silas didn’t have a definite answer for that. “Who would do this to you?”

  “Who would be the only person wanting to eliminate any disputes for a throne?” she asked.

  The answer came to my mind instantly, though I couldn’t entertain it as a possibility. “Certainly not your king.”

  Then again, it didn’t seem so impossible once I considered it. The very memory of King Quinten gave me a chill. He was the one who kept Valentina isolated, who forced his ailing son to be front and center at everything though it clearly pained the boy. If he treated people he supposedly cared about so poorly, then what would stop him from treating everyone else worse?

  “A few weeks before we left Isolte, we went to the castle to visit the king and celebrate his twenty-fifth year on the throne. You saw firsthand how old and vain he is. You saw how he torments those closest to him. But you certainly don’t want to risk crossing him. So, even though we’d much rather have stayed home, we went. I don’t think we concealed our exhaustion at these expositions well enough.

  “When we came back home, all of our animals were slaughtered. It wasn’t done by a wolf or bear, we could tell by the wounds. And our servants . . .” She paused to swallow down another wave of tears. “The ones who were left said that men in black capes came and took the others, forcing them into chains. There were a few who fought back, and we found their bodies piled under a tree.

  “It was deliberate timing and a very strong message. He can’t stand a threat to his line, which looks like it will die off very soon indeed. The Northcotts have the highest claim now. Some could have argued they’ve had the highest claim all along. I suspect he will go for them next. . . .

  “But the Northcotts have been smart. You saw they were present when Quinten and Valentina came to visit. They never miss an event, making a point to stay on his good side, if such a thing exists. And though they have lost things themselves, they refused to be scared off by it. They might be harder for Quinten to move than he would guess.”

  I squinted. “The Northcotts have been attacked by the Darkest Knights, too? So this . . . army of sorts is not so anonymous as some people think? They’re definitely the king’s men?”

  “I don’t see how they could be otherwise,” she replied with a tired shrug.

  I sat there, perched on the arm of the chair, arms still stretched out to Lady Eastoffe. “Then your king is not only vain but foolish. If he has no heirs and he murders those who might lay claim to the crown, won’t it fall into the hands of some unknown? Or worse, your country could be annexed if it is without a leader to defend it.”

  She patted my hand. “You have more wisdom than he does. Alas, you do not have as much power. So now, Scarlet and I are without a country, without a home, and without a family.” She pressed her lips together, fighting more tears.

  The events of a single evening had torn so many lives to shreds. Would I ever recover from it? Would she?

  I looked down at my tiny hands. Too small to save anything, too weak to push back a horrific assault. But on my finger was a ring. I looked at the shining blue stone, remembering now that Lady Eastoffe had told me it was worn by a great man. And I looked at the plainer one on my left hand, the one that somehow seemed infinitely more valuable.

  “You are not without family,” I said. She raised her eyes to me. “I married into it today, so you have me. It’s as binding as any law could be. And, despite my parents’ qualms, I am their only heir. This house and property are mine. So they also belong to my family.” She smiled, and even Scarlet perked up for a moment. “You are not lost.”

  Thirty-Four

  FOR ONE BEAUTIFUL SECOND AS I woke, I didn’t remember what had happened. It was only after rubbing my eyes and realizing that the sun was hovering around midday that I recalled how I had walked into my house sometime near sunrise. I also realized I was on the floor. Looking up, I saw Lady Eastoffe and Scarlet were on my bed. After pushing my dresser up against the door, we’d all settled down for a moment to think, but thinking turned into sleep within moments.

  My parents were gone. Sullivan was gone. Lord Eastoffe. Little Saul.

  And Silas.

  What was the last thing Silas had said to me? He’d s
aid, “Good.” I’d told him he was going to have a spoiled wife, and he was quite pleased by the prospect. I tried to hold on to that moment. In that image, a hint of my veil was in the corner because I’d looked back over my shoulder. His smile was impish, as if he were planning things I didn’t have the imagination to build up on my own. “Good,” he’d said. “Good.”

  “I’ve had a thought.” Lady Eastoffe had stirred and was moving quietly from the bed, leaving Scarlet to rest.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I sighed.

  “I can’t guarantee it’s a good one, mind you, but it might be all we can do.” She settled next to me on the floor, and I couldn’t help but think that, even in her rumpled, mourning state, she looked so poised. “I think Scarlet and I need to go. And I think you need to stay here and start your life.”

  “What?” My heart started pounding. “You’d abandon me?”

  “No,” she insisted, cradling my face. “I’d protect you. The only way I can ensure that your life will not be in jeopardy is to distance myself from you as quickly and widely as I can. I cannot be sure that King Quinten will not come again once he finds me alive, even though I am old, and neither Scarlet nor I could hope to hold the throne. He will always be a shadow over my shoulder. The only way you will be safe is if I’m anywhere that you aren’t.”

  I looked away, trying to find holes in her logic.

  “You’ve inherited quite an estate, darling girl. Take your time to mourn and then, when you find someone new—”

  “I will never find someone new.”

  “Oh, Hollis, you are so young. There’s so much ahead of you. Have a life, have children. It’s the most any of us can hope for in such dark days. If my leaving means keeping you away from what happened last night, then I do it happily.

  “But please know,” she pleaded as she ran her hand down my dirty hair, “that being parted from you will be as difficult to bear as being parted from my sons.”

  I tried to find the good in this, in being left behind. The only thing I could see in it was that she loved me as much as I loved her, as much as I suspected we both had for a while. And that was something, in the middle of so much sorrow: to know that I was loved.