Chapter Fourteen: Moving On

Lynette was pacing the floor of her chambers while Garret watched her tread a new path into the cold stone at her feet. She was talking animatedly, explaining everything she saw and heard earlier that day. Garret's eyes were growing wide in disbelief the longer she went on.

"You can't be serious!" he said, "There is absolutely no way that Donovan asked Angus to kill him! You must be mistaken!"

Lynette bounced onto the bed next to him and glared. How could he not believe her? She was his wife. Since when did he have any reason to not believe her about something? He was supposed to support her. "I know what I saw!" she fumed.

Garret lifted his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! Let's just say for the sake of argument that all that happened. Why? Why would Donovan ask Angus to do such a thing?"

Lynette sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't have the slightest idea! This is so frustrating! One minute, the man is very likable, doing marvelous things for Deirdre's country and his own, and then the next minute he acts like an unbalanced, melodramatic nutcase!"

Garret smiled at her rant and scratched his chin. "I don't think he's the only one being melodramatic." he taunted. Lynette preceded to hit him repeatedly over the head with her pillow.

Deirdre was in a contemplative mood that night. She found herself tossing and turning in her soft bed and could not find the sleep she was so desperately seeking. She looked out the window and saw that it was still dark outside. Groaning, she got up and lit the candelabra by her bed and got dressed, slinging her crossbow about her shoulders. She decided to go see if the library was still unlocked so she could find some distraction from her thoughts. As she neared the double doors, she saw a light glowing from the crack under the door. Someone was already inside. Gently, she turned the knob and peered inside.

Angus looked up from his book at the sound of the squeaking door hinges. "Oh, it's just you."

Deirdre closed the door behind her and set down her candles. "Yes, just me. What are you doing up, Angus?"

Angus rubbed his eyes and took another sip from his goblet. "Same as you, I'm guessing. I couldn't sleep. Had a lot of thinking to do."

"Why won't you tell me what went on tonight, Angus?" she asked gently, sitting beside him.

"Why won't you go ask Lynette? You two always seem to enjoy your 'girl talks.'" he fussed, turning a page with a little extra force. He hated talking about serious things. He preferred to not look back on uncomfortable situations and just pretend that they never happened. He rather thought that this conversation might end up going under that same treatment.

Deirdre sighed and starred at the flames dancing in the fireplace. "I already tried that. She won't budge. She seems to think that it wasn't that important, and that it hasn't changed anything."

"She's right." Angus said. "The treaty is signed, Donovan will eventually die, and you will rule. Nothing has changed."

Deirdre took the book from his hands and set it down on the side table, forcing Angus to look at her. "Angus, why is everyone so on edge then? I feel as if I am missing a key piece to a puzzle!"

Angus made a go for the book, but Deirdre smacked his hand. "Ow! Will you just--gahh! Everyone feels like something weird is going on, alright? You were just a little bit behind. It is all too perfect of a set-up to take it all in stride, that's all. Now give me back my book!" he demanded.

Deirdre sighed. "I guess you are right. Ivar pretty much said the exact same thing before retiring earlier. Although, he was a whole lot nicer than you in pointing out my ignorance."

Angus gave her a lop-sided smile. "That's because he is a prince, and I am a thief who doesn't know any better!"

Deirdre grinned at that. "You know, Angus," she teased, "I think that is the very first time that you have ever admitted to being a thief!"

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?" he asked, turning another page in his book. Deirdre did a double-take. When did he grab his book from the table?

At first light, the troop saddled up with Gavin's help and rode back to Kells. No one had seen Donovan since the incident the night before. He was avoiding humiliation. Angus couldn't blame him, after what he asked him to do, he would do the same thing.

The ride back to Kells castle was a silent one. Only Angus, Lynette, and Garret knew what truly happened. Everyone was confused, yet still somewhat pleased with the progress of the past few days. Donovan seemed unstable, yes, but he opened the doors to quite a few exciting possibilities for the future. Ivar was thinking of ways to improve Donovan's program, and Lynnette and her husband were thinking of ways to peep into Donovan's secret past. Deirdre just mulled over the entire incident.

But one knight was more silent than usual. Something was still troubling Angus. It was Donovan's eyes. They were filled with so many emotions. They seemed to radiate pain, hope, and trust all at the same time. Something was familiar about those blue eyes to Angus, but for the life of him, he could not remember why they stirred him. Blue eyes were not very uncommon in Kells, so he knew that wasn't it, and he had seen painful emotions in people's eyes before. He was thinking about these things to the extent that it almost didn't register that they were all back in the castle and he should be dismounting at that moment.

Rohan had holed himself up in his sanctuary the next three days, locking the door. Gavin was busy overseeing the training grounds and other daily necessities, and had very little time to bang on the door insisting he come out and eat something. Rohan would stare off into space, wondering at what exact moment in time and space that his life had thrown him into this reality. When did he first think of killing himself? He tried to figure out what possessed him to almost give up his secret in order to commit suicide.

Well, technically it couldn't be called suicide when he asked someone to do it for him, he figured, but for all intents and purposes, it really was. He realized that seeing his best friend Angus in such bad shape must have somehow moved him to do it. He was quite shocked to see his childhood friend with a straggly beard and hollow eyes. He must not have been getting good enough sleep. He wished that he knew a way to tell Angus everything, and still carryout his plan. Gods, he wish he could tell everyone and still have the courage to go through with it. Everyone but Deirdre, that is. He would die to keep that secret from her. He felt more ashamed than anything when it came to her. He had an overwhelming sense of guilt whenever her saw her. In some ways, he felt that no matter what he did, he would always let her down.

Well, he wouldn't let her down by not helping her in his final days, he decided, slowly rising to his feet. After one last look at the sword cabinet that held the weapon of the Mystic Knight of Fire, he headed toward the kitchens. He needed to eat, and then work hard on his training program. He would have the people ready for her when she ruled the united island.

Note: Once again, sorry for the delay! I've moved, moved a friend, started a new job, started new college classes, and other distractions. Keep bugging me if I am overdue for an update! It'll keep me motivated!

A sidenote on the story: this chapter is a bit more upbeat. I figured that with all the angst and other ruckus of previous chapters, we could use a bit of humour.