The Betrothed

by Kiera Cass

  “Where will you settle?”

  She looked at me as if I’d missed something. “Back in Isolte,” she said matter-of-factly.

  Oh. When she said she was going, she really meant it.

  “Are you mad?” I shot back a little too loudly. Scarlet stirred and rolled over, still asleep. “If you are so certain your king is trying to kill you, won’t going back make it all too easy for him to finish the job?”

  She shook her head. “I think not. It may not be written into law, but Isolte tradition states that it’s males who count when it comes to royal succession. That is why our line is so much more threatening than that of the Northcotts: they are descended from one of Jedreck’s daughters. But”—she paused, thinking of all the little details—“she was the firstborn, and that sometimes holds weight in Isolte. In the past, there were pockets of people who favored her son, Swithun, and her line has been so strong and upstanding, which couldn’t be said for many of the other lines before they died off. . . . .”

  Her eyes suddenly went somewhere else, as if looking at a picture in the ground I could not see. “I think the king hasn’t bothered with the Northcotts as they’ve managed to nearly cut off the line without much help. . . .” She blinked a few times, coming back to her point.

  “Dashiell and I raised our children to know who they were, whose blood they carried, and how that made them enemies of the king. They understood why we set guards outside their doors some nights, why we visited the castle to pay homage for even the smallest event in King Quinten’s life. If Scarlet and I die, it will be with honor. If you die? It’s because of our association. That would be too much for me to carry.”

  I stood, moving to the window. Mother always said that when you absolutely must make a decision, do it in sunlight. As a child I thought it was her way of making me wait for answers that she never wanted to give, ones I always seemed to ask before bed. But sometimes I still did it. I hoped it would clear any clouds in my mind.

  “Do you intend to just march up to King Quinten? Tell him you’re his faithful servant after he just murdered your family?”

  “Indeed, I do.” She closed her eyes for a moment, taking her own words in. “I will confirm his hopes that the male line has ended, and then I will swear my loyalty. Even if it wouldn’t save you, I think we’d have to go back. For better or for worse, Isolte is our home, and I want to protect it, try to save what good there is while there’s still time. Because one day, that wicked old man will die. He will die and leave a fractured kingdom, and I would be shocked if anyone could muster the will to mourn him.

  “It’s risky. He could kill you on sight and truly end your line. Have you considered that?”

  “He could,” she allowed, resigned to a truth that I supposed had been a part of her since the day she married, “but my life has been a long one. I have used it to love, and I have used it to mother. I have used it in worry and in fleeing. Now I will use it to guard. I will guard Isolte by going back to it and you by leaving. So, you see, we have to go.”

  The sun was giving me nothing. I could see it, I could even feel its warmth . . . but it didn’t change a thing. I turned, burying myself in her arms.

  “I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

  “Nonsense,” she insisted in a tone that was unmistakably motherly. “Think of all you managed to accomplish in the last few months. If anyone could manage this, it’s you. You’re a very smart young lady.”

  “Then will you listen to me when I say it’s foolish to go back?”

  She chuckled. “You may be right. But I can’t spend my final years in hiding. I must face my monster.”

  “A monster,” I echoed. That was exactly what Quinten was. “Quite frankly, I’d rather face a dragon than be alone here.”

  “I will write you so often that you will be drowning in letters. I will write even when there’s nothing worth writing about, to the point you may start to wish we were never related at all.”

  “Now you’re the one talking nonsense. I love you the way I loved the rest of your family: from the first day, wholly, and without reason.”

  “Stop. You’ll make me cry again, and I already hurt from doing it too much.” She kissed my head. “Now, I need to make arrangements for burials. You do as well. . . . I hope it won’t offend anyone if we don’t make a ceremony of this. I just want to put my dead to rest.”

  She looked down and cleared her throat. Except for the quick outburst the night before, she’d been working hard to keep her emotions at bay. I suspected it was for my sake.

  “And then,” she began again, her voice less steady than before, “we’ll see if there’s anything salvageable from the manor, and, assuming the weather is fair, we’ll leave as soon as we’re able. I need to write the Northcotts. It would probably be safest if they sent Etan to escort us. . . .”

  She spoke continually throughout the day, placing all her energy into her planning, and I was awed. My pain took up too much space for me to think of anything else.

  Thirty-Five

  THE NORTHCOTTS RESPONDED QUICKLY, OFFERING to house Lady Eastoffe and Scarlet for as long as they should need. A date was arranged, and Etan would bring a carriage to make the journey as comfortable as possible. They seemed thankful to have a way to help at such an awful time, but the whole thing made me uneasy. If the Northcotts were in a similar position, why in the world would they collect themselves all in one place?

  “They’ve made it this far by the grace of Quinten’s own arrogance and his seeming disregard for the female line. I dare say it will carry us all a little farther at least,” Lady Eastoffe speculated, though it did nothing to comfort me.

  “I still think this is risky,” I huffed, crossing my arms. “Would you please consider—”

  “Forgive me, mistress, but there’s a parcel for you,” Hester said, hobbling in with her sweetly slow gait. “It’s rather heavy, so it’s near the door.”

  “Heavy?”

  She nodded, and Lady Eastoffe and I exchanged a look. “Thank you, Hester. By the front door?”

  “Yes, mistress.”

  Lady Eastoffe followed me as I made my way downstairs. I was still adjusting to being called the mistress of Varinger Hall. It felt like one more weight I had to bear, and I didn’t think I could hold much more.

  “Huh,” Lady Eastoffe said. “It’s not that large. I wonder why it’s so heavy.”

  On the circular table my parents usually covered with flowers sat a small chest with a letter atop it. I reached out to take the note.

  “Oh,” I gasped, looking at my hands, which quickly started trembling.

  “What is it?”

  “The seal. It’s the royal seal.” I swallowed. “This is from King Jameson.”

  “Do you need me to read it?” she offered.

  “No.” I hesitated. “No, I can do this.” I broke the seal and turned the letter around, seeing the familiar handwriting. How many times had I received letters written in this hand?

  My dearest Hollis,

  Though you may think it unlikely after all that has passed between us, I was most heartbroken to hear about the recent death of your fiancé and parents. Anything that grieves you will always grieve me, and I write to send you my deepest condolences.

  As a member of the gentry, you are, of course, entitled to an annuity. Based off the hope and assumption that you will live another fifty years, I have decided to give you the entire sum up front, as a sign of my forgiveness for any past indiscretions and my current shared sorrow.

  “Oh my goodness.” I dragged the chest over and flipped it open, gasping with Lady Eastoffe at the sight of so much money.

  “What is this?”

  “The king offers me compensation, which is customary when a member of the gentry is widowed.”

  “Even though you were only married for a few hours?” she asked incredulously.

  “I told you, there are a lot of laws surrounding marriage. I think so people wouldn’t enter it lightly
. But I’m a widow . . . even though Jameson only calls Silas my fiancé here.”

  “I would comment on how peculiar it is, but when I think of the lists and lists of customs in Isolte, I have no room to speak.” She picked up a handful of the golden coins. “Goodness, you are rich indeed, Hollis.”

  I returned to the letter.

  I hope this will keep you living in a station that you are both accustomed to and deserve as a highborn lady and one of the sweetest women Coroa has ever known.

  In another matter that I hope will bring you more joy and no grief, I have become very close with our friend Delia Grace. She is to be my official escort for the solstice, which is not too far off. Perhaps the festivities would draw you out of any sorrow you might be feeling as well. Come to Keresken and let us take care of you. With the loss of your parents, it must be particularly isolating out in the country, and you will be most comfortable here.

  You will always have a special place in my heart, Hollis. I beg you to let me look upon you with my own eyes and see you happy once more. It would make my joy complete. I hope to see you soon.

  Your humble servant,

  Jameson

  “He also invites me to court. Soon,” I said, passing her the letter. “And it sounds as if he’s finally paired up with Delia Grace.”

  “Ah! Well, that’s good news, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure my tone was convincing. I was still sorting out my feelings when it came to Delia Grace. Sad because I missed her so much, hopeful that she might miss me. Guilty over the way things had played out in the end, and happy for her success. At least one of us could have what we wanted. “Maybe it would be good to see her again. It might be good for all of us to tie up loose ends.”

  “Then I think you should go. It might do you good to have a distraction, something to look forward to, and we’ll be leaving soon ourselves. This house is beautiful, but it’s awfully big for one person.”

  I threw myself into a chair in a manner my mother would have described as petulant. And in that moment, I wished she were here to tell me so. What sum of money might I have paid to have my mother scold me one more time? I pushed the thought away and looked over at Lady Eastoffe. “I suppose you’re right. You usually are.”

  She chuckled and left to go finish her letter.

  “If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I need to take care of.”

  “You needn’t ask me,” she said, looking up from the table. “You’re the lady of the house.”

  Oh. That’s right. I raised my chin. “Well, in that case, I have something to do, and I’m going no matter what you say.”

  “That’s more like it.”

  I moved down the entryway stairs and out to the stables, where the horses were in the middle of being groomed.

  “Good day, mistress,” the groomer said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for,” I insisted, touching his shoulder. “I need to borrow Madge for a short ride.”

  He looked me over. “But you’re not in riding clothes, my lady,” he noted. “Perhaps I could get the carriage?”

  “No. I’m not worried about my clothes. I just . . . I need to think.”

  An understanding passed over his eyes, and he brought out my beautiful, dark horse.

  “If anyone asks, you haven’t seen me.”

  He gave me a wink, and I pulled on the reins as Madge went into a gallop. We rode fast, but I had no fear that she would bolt or buck me off. She, like I, was singularly focused.

  Like I had over the last few days, I took Madge through the deep woods, heading west. She knew the terrain and handled it expertly, protecting us both from trees and roots as we made our way to my home away from home. Abicrest Manor.

  The mounds of dirt beneath the large willow tree were a strikingly bright shade of brown, and they remained several inches higher than the ground surrounding them, though years would erode that to nothing.

  I didn’t know if it was custom or just a measure of kindness the Eastoffes chose to extend, but the servants were buried alongside their masters, making nearly two dozen graves lined up in neat rows on the outskirts of the property. This didn’t include others, like my parents, who had a tomb in the mausoleum beside the great temple, or those unfortunate neighbors who had resting places of their own.

  We had very little to bury in the end. We found two of those sacred silver rings among the ashes. I guessed at which one was my father’s, not sure if I was right, and buried them both with their owners.

  I felt guilty as often as I felt sad. It was all a matter of timing. If we’d walked back a few minutes sooner, I’d be gone as well. If Lady Eastoffe had chosen to involve her son with the giving of this ring, he’d still be here. If, if, if. If was a question that gave no answers.

  I tied up Madge on a low-hanging branch, scratching behind her ear before I walked down to the temporary stone that marked where what little remained of Silas was laid.

  “I’ve tried to talk her out of leaving. I’ve tried twenty different times with as many excuses as I can think of. . . . I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  The wind blew through the leaves.

  “Well, no, I haven’t tried begging, but it wouldn’t become me. I’m meant to be the mistress of Varinger Hall now. She keeps saying things that remind me of my place. But the thing is . . .” I bit back the tears. “All I wanted to be was the mistress of your home. And now you’re gone, and the house is hardly standing, and I have so much, but it feels like I have nothing.”

  The branches rustled.

  “I am grateful. I know that living through a situation where I surely ought to have died is a gift, but I cannot think of why in the world the gods would spare me. What use could they possibly have for me?”

  There was no sound.

  “Jameson has invited me to court. I can’t believe he found the will to forgive me. My guess is it must be rooted in pity.” I shook my head, staring at the horizon. “I will offend the king if I do not go, and I have already given him enough reason to hate me. My only fear is, I think . . . I think I will be forced to let you go.”

  I started crying, wiping the tears with the sleeve of my gown. “I used to feel like there was something pulling me to you. I didn’t know what it was, but ever since I first saw you, it felt like there was a string around my heart, tugging me to wherever you were.” I shook my head. “I don’t feel it anymore. But I long to.”

  I wished so badly he could answer, that he could just give me one of those quick whispers of truth that he always seemed to have on hand. But he couldn’t. He never would.

  I couldn’t feel him.

  “I just needed you to know that, even though I don’t feel you, I’m going to remember you. And if I one day find the will to love again, I will only know if it’s love . . . because you taught me what that was. Before you, every glimpse I’d seen of it was a lie. And I didn’t know that until you came into that room, holding a golden sword, silent and proud.

  “You took me without a single word. I don’t know if I ever told you. I was yours from the very start. From the second our eyes met, I was lost for you. And you promised to love me without condition, and you did. Thank you so much, Silas. Thank you.”

  I looked around. I would have to lock this season into a corner of my heart, and it would have to keep beating.

  “I love you. Thank you.” I kissed the tips of my fingers and touched them to the stone. Madge lifted her head as I climbed up into the saddle, and this time when I rode away, I didn’t look back.

  Thirty-Six

  I WAS STRUGGLING TO FIND enthusiasm for most things these days, including things I enjoyed. Eating was hard; dressing was hard. Everything was hard. So it was impossible to will myself to be cheery for the likes of Etan Northcott to visit my house, especially considering he was only coming to take away what remained of my family

  Still, willing or not, he rode up the drive on a horse
alongside a stately carriage that was a shade or two darker than the blue I typically associated with Isolte. I stood at the front steps, waiting to greet him as propriety dictated. His face was as somber as it was when I first met him, which left me wondering how anyone ever knew his true mood. He dismounted and walked up to me, and I extended my right hand in greeting.

  “Sir Northcott. Welcome to Varinger Hall.”

  He reached out to take my hand in greeting, but froze in his movements.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He kept his eyes on my hand. “You’re wearing the ring. That doesn’t belong to you.”

  I showed him my left hand. “According to this ring, it does. Please come in. Your aunt and cousin are expecting you.”

  I moved into the house, the click of his boots echoing behind me. This house needed people in it to dampen the noise. I kept my voice low, hating that I needed to tell him anything, but knowing I must.

  “I feel I should warn you. Lady Eastoffe is holding up well, all things considered. She’s thrown herself into planning and caregiving. I don’t know if her grief will come to the surface soon, but be on the watch for that.”

  “I will.”

  “And Scarlet . . . she’s not herself at all. I don’t know if you were told, but she was in the room. She saw everything and was thrown outside. We’re not sure why.”

  His mask slipped a little, and he looked genuinely pained for her sake. “Has she told you about it?”

  “No. She’s hardly said anything. I hope she comes back to us, because I love her so much. But you might have to brace yourself for her to stay this way. I haven’t known what to do for her, and I don’t think Lady Eastoffe does, either. I think the best we can hope for is that time will erase her pain.”

  He nodded. “And how—” He stopped quickly and cleared his throat. “How are you?”