Chapter Seven
The Unbearable Truth
"Darien always played a dangerous game. He bargained with people with what they cared least for," Andrew said.
He sat in his chair, resting his hands on top of the table. Forgotten to a side, his plate of food had gone cold, and his wine cup did not sizzle. He focused his attention on her, watching as she rested her empty cup on the table.
Serena then surprised him. She narrowed her eyes, a violent rage sweeping across her face.
"My father cared for me."
He looked at her sympathetically.
"I imagine he does. It must have been because of your mother that he was not thinking properly."
"What does my mother have to do with me?"
Andrew answered her question automatically, without thinking of her reaction to the truth.
"She was dying. Darien had offered a deal and spared her life. That deal was you."
She was incapable of speaking for a moment. For six months, she never knew. In fact, she never cared for the truth, but it seemed that she did. Slowly, she regained a part of her self-possession.
"It makes sense." She looked away from him and swept her eyes around the room. "Father…"
"It only got worse as Darien got older."
Interrupted from her thoughts, she looked at Andrew, uncomprehending.
"What?"
He cleared her confusion. "The deals—it got worse. Before he did not care what he received in return, it was nothing in the end. But now the deals are more tragic. Sinful. Perhaps, even retching."
Serena leaned back in her seat, toying with the ruby gem.
"What did he do in the labyrinth?"
"He sought for a bargain and came with a prize tenfold."
She frowned at his broad answer.
"What was the bargain?"
"I do not know—and even if I did, I cannot speak freely of that matter."
Serena fumed at his evasive answer. For a moment, there was silence. The kitchen maid returned and took away their cold meals. With fresh cups, she poured them tea, at Andrew's request.
"Why does he love making deals? What's the purpose of it?" Serena asked when the kitchen maid disappeared back in the kitchen.
"To mostly control the person, or better yet for the person to realize what they lost," he answered.
"Like a consequence to their actions?"
"Something like that."
Serena picked up the cup. The sweet aroma pecked at her nostrils. She took a sip, taking in the sweet mixture of delicate flavors.
"Who gave him the necklace in the first place?" she asked, putting down the cup.
"His mother gave it to him."
Serena pushed on with her questions. "Why?"
"Let's just say some people were born with a purpose," Andrew cryptically answered.
"What was Darien's purpose?"
Andrew refused to answer and took another sip of his drink.
Serena continued, regardless of his response, "If I held the necklace, will I control the labyrinth to my will?"
"No."
He did not seem to question where she had heard the information. Serena found that rather peculiar as if he already knew. But she continued on, delving not into the matter.
"Why not?"
"You're not the labyrinth's master," he stated.
It was at this point she had enough with Andrew.
"Can you not answer my questions properly?"
Andrew nodded his head. "I can."
Agitation flowed throughout her body.
She picked up her teacup and took another sip. It soothed her nerves and allowed her to think more properly. With her anger fading, she settled the cup back on the table.
"You never did ask me about my decision."
She looked up and their eyes met. She knew what he was referring to.
"No, I did not. I knew you would refused."
"Wrong. I took the deal." He surprised her again.
For a moment she remained still. Then, slowly, she took in his words, pondering at the reason.
He continued, "It was Darien's mother."
He shook her whole world.
"As for the reason why Darien wants to kill his father it is because it was a promise he made to his mother."
She began to react, moving her head a little to a side. The bitter feeling of disbelief still buzzed through her body. She managed to say one word, but it was enough to gain an explanation.
"Why?"
"Because my mother slept with her husband."
She picked up her head and stared into his eye. Her last question, before Sofia entered through the door, placed him into silence.
She said, "Was she the one who saved you?"
He seemed bothered by the question. Slowly, he gave his answer, "I… do not know. I never knew who saved me."
Then the doors opened and rattled the room with noise. Serena jumped in her seat and glanced toward her maid. It was time for her to return to her husband's side. But she took one last glance toward Andrew and placed a hand over his.
It was all she could do. Comfort him. He seemed to like that very much.
xx
Serena headed back to her room and found Darien lying across her bed, diagonally. He had an arm above his eyes and a hand resting on his stomach. She noticed his steadying breathing, his chest rising up and down.
She moved closer to the bed.
"Where were you?" Darien's voice came instantly.
"With Andrew," she answered.
He did not speak.
She looked around the room and noticed a vase of fresh red roses, sitting on top of her dresser. It brightened the room with color, aside from the dull design of the room. He had told her that he would arrange it to her liking. She had refused, for she would have to share a room with Darien.
But in the end, it did not matter. He came to her room, almost constantly.
She did not want to think about that.
Standing near the edge of the bed, she looked at Darien.
"Andrew told me."
"What did he tell you?"
Again, his voice broke through the silence of the room.
"Your mother killed his mother. You love making deals. And you want to kill your father."
Darien smiled. "He told you that? I was wondering when he would."
Disbelief flooded through her. How could he be so indifferent? Here she proclaimed about knowing about his mother and he acted as if she had spoken about the weather.
Serena took a step closer to him.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you going through with your mother's request? Is she not the one who seeks his death?"
She should know that reason at least.
He moved his arm away from his eyes and turned his head to look at her.
"Yes."
"Then why?"
"I made a promise," he said it so casually.
She shook her head. "It is a promise that you should not fulfill."
"Then I would be going against her. She always told me that a promise must be kept."
Incredulous, Serena fought for him to see reason. "But not this one. This is a life. Do not take it away."
"What difference would it make? I killed before."
In her mind, she sought for reasons, good enough to change his mind. She started with, "He raised you."
In return, he bit back, "Lies—Mother did."
She threw in the second reason, hoping it would change his mind from taking his father's life.
"He was there for you."
He spoke, rationally against her, "Again, lies—Mother was."
She was running out of reasons, but stated the most obvious to him. She hoped with this reason he would not go through with his mother's wishes.
"He is innocent."
Her reason was rebuffed. He chuckled, and said, "He is the most wretched."
She was quick to respond, "No, that title belongs to your mother."
"I cannot argue against that. She is, is she not?"
He sat up in bed and slid toward the edge. Standing on his feet, he stood in front of her, trailing a finger down her cheek to her chin.
She pushed his finger away, wanting his attention to her eyes. He did just that, amused at her serious expression. She allowed the silence to linger for a moment, and then she continued battling against his twisted promise.
"Do not kill your father to please your mother."
Then the truth became revealed.
"I killed his whores to please her. So what difference would it make to kill him?"
Astonished, she could not move a muscle. She tried to relax and take long, slow breaths. But the truth became too much for her. Then it hit her. At what age did Darien kill?
"When did you kill?"
He ignored her. He seemed so transfix with her face that he could hardly pay attention to what she was saying.
"You know what attracted me to you?"
If one truth should be let out, why can't others join in the first? She was not prepared for this. In fact, no one was.
"Your purity," he said, "How I wish to have it. Then again I do not want it." He traced her jaw with a finger. "I hate purity. I hate the righteous. Everyone should be corrupted to the bones."
"To reflect you?" she questioned.
He did not answer.
"Darien." She placed a hand on his cheek, trying to comfort away his pain. "I can help you."
And it was the truth. No longer did she care about escaping—even if her heart churned at the broken promise she made toward her dead sister-in-law and daughter. She wanted to help him. The good in her wanted to help him. Maybe if she changed his mind, he would live a happy life, for once. But she could tell in his eyes that he did not want it.
"No, you will not help me."
She insisted, placing her hands on his chest. "I can."
He chuckled, sliding his hand across his forehead to the back of his head "No, you would not. You just worry about escaping."
Once again, Serena stopped to breath. Somehow, she shouldn't be surprised. Darien kept providing her hints that he knew about her intention. But still it shocked her that he knew all this time.
She pulled her hands away from him. He took her silence to walk toward the roses, softly caressing a petal with a finger. Then he surprised her for a third time. She was getting tired of surprises.
"How about a deal?"
Quickly, on her heel, she turned to him and shook her head, more than once.
"No!"
He still had his back toward her.
"Pity. I have a deal to offer. Perhaps, a little exploring in the labyrinth would change your mind."
She took a step toward him, and then halted, full of terror. She did not want to explore the labyrinth. If she went away, he would continue to fall. She had to reach for him and stop him from killing again. It was the least she could as his wife. And perhaps after he regain sense of his mind he would let her see her family. But Darien was making it difficult.
"I don't want to. I don't want to play this game," she pleaded.
He turned to her and laughed at her terror for a second. He lifted a curve of his mouth, stripping his beauty into a horrible image of malice.
"But it already started," he said.
She denied believing it.
"Darien, please, if you love me—"
"I will not change my mind." By the look in his eye, she knew that he was getting angry. He continued, "By noon if you have not left, I will bring the guards and allow them to rape you on the floor."
That caught her breath.
"My patience is running thin."
"You would not dare do that to me," she choked, putting a hand to her chest.
He could not be that cruel.
In the end, he proved otherwise. "Would you care to find out?"
She began to pull away from him, step by step.
"Darien, you can still be saved."
He looked away from her. "No, I was never meant to be pure."
She wanted to reach for him, but she was afraid. Instead, she fought still for him to see reason to his actions. "Darien—"
"I am going to count now," he interrupted her. "If you are not gone from my sight in five seconds, I will bring you terror."
She took a step more back. "Darien, please see reason."
"One."
He began his counting.
She felt her heart skip a beat.
"Darien, please let me help you."
"Two."
She felt the door behind her.
"Three."
"Darien," she said his name with a bittersweet cry. "Please."
"Four."
She opened the door and ran out the room, never looking back at her husband.
"Five."
Darien smiled.
The game was set.
