Bit of a short update...but since the last chapter barely got any reviews, consider the length punishment. Bwahaha! Enjoy.
Something is wrong. I can sense it, and Gemma can too. Something besides the obvious – Circe's return and seemingly random victims. I have been taught to never take things at face value, that things are never what they seem. I fear such is the case, but Gemma and I do not acknowledge it.
I am afraid that things have become rather forced between us since today's events. I seek to comfort her, to be comforted by her, but it no longer seems right. My mother's constant nagging and now the words of the Rakshana masters have made me almost truly believe that my love for Gemma is nothing but a nuisance, something to get in the way of more important things. I do not feel this way, but the knowledge that others do, strongly, puts a damper on our romance.
I escort Gemma home in silence, preferring to walk despite the dangers. I can hardly see Circe striking twice now that all eyes are on her. Upon arrival at the Doyle residence, Gemma pulls me into the shadows of the house. I gaze into her face and feel torn. I'd like to kiss her and pretend that I don't feel any different than usual, but to deny my feelings would harm her more in the future.
"What is it?" she asks, a playful smile toying on her lips. I wish I could reach out and feel the curve of her bottom lip, lean down and taste it. No.
"Gemma, I…" Don't know what to say. It will be something she doesn't want to hear, and now she is realizing it. Her brows knit in worry, creasing her otherwise smooth forehead. "I think we should spend some time apart," I say softly. Despite my volume, my words are too harsh for her.
"No," she whispers. Her eyes widen and fill with tears. I can see my own reflection shaking in the emerald water. I wish I could jump in, see things from within her eyes. I could drown in them, never to return. It'd be easier than to see things from my own eyes, to see her, crying by my decision.
"It's…for the best," I say shakily.
"Kartik, no! Please! I'm overwhelmed... You can't leave me now! I need you..."
It is precisely her last words that reassure me of my choice.
"No," I whisper. "You don't need me. You don't need anyone." It is I who need you. I need to find out if I can make it on my own.
"But when will I see you again?"
I take her hand and kiss it slowly, savoring the feel of her skin against my lips. That is my answer. A sure sign of my affection, open all the same. It is better to say nothing than to say something and be wrong.
I leave her in silence, feeling an odd sense of relief, and knowing that I took the first step in ensuring our survival.
Tom greets me as I enter the house. He notices my tearstained face and tries to make light of it.
"Ah, my Lady Dour! I take it things are not well with the…Shakarana?"
I don't even bother to correct him. I never want to speak of that bloody organization again. A fresh wave of tears comes as I inevitably think of Kartik and what he just said.
"Gemma? What is the matter?"
Tom is worried, but I can never tell him the true reason for my tears. He can never know about what Kartik and I have between us, though now it seems there is nothing. I cannot control it. I am sobbing now. I wish to crawl somewhere and die.
My brother pulls me into an awkward embrace. "Now Gemma, what is it? You can tell me anything."
No, I can't!
"Simon's dead," I moan, unable to think of any other excuse that would be as effective. Tom releases me, stunned, and I take the opportunity to run upstairs to my room, feeling absolutely wretched for more than one reason.
I hover in the doorway to the parlor, where my mother sits, inscribing calling cards to other members of the Order. Without looking up, she senses my presence.
"Come sit down, Kartik."
I feel so drained of all energy and emotion that I obey wordlessly. The steady sound of pen on parchment is soothing to me. All of a sudden, I am a child again, watching quietly while my mother writes for friends. I would always fall asleep this way, the sound of writing as my lullaby.
"You're upset," she muses.
"How can you tell?"
"A mother always knows. What is the matter?"
I don't really wish to tell her, to relive the painful moments.
"Is it about your father?"
"Yes," I say, latching onto the excuse to keep the topic of Gemma at bay.
She finishes a sentence and sets down her pen. "What would you like to know?"
"How is it that he is Rakshana? I thought we were not supposed to marry."
"There are exceptions to every rule, Kartik." She idly plays with the emerald necklace hanging from her neck. I remember it vaguely. "There was a prophecy many years before you were born. One of the oldest and wisest priestesses at the time envisioned the coming of the Goddess and Dignitary. I was only a young girl at the time, but I was foreseen to carry the spirit of the Dignitary and bear a child that would become him."
"It sounds like the story of Jesus Christ's birth," I say softly.
"There is no such thing as immaculate conception, I fear. That is where your father comes in." My mother's face seems to grow younger as she develops the same expression many girls do when they think of men. It's very odd to see her this way.
"Sanjiv was always a handsome man. Not a big talker, but he had his other charms. He was already very highly ranked, even at such a young age. When it came to the Rakshana, he was ruthless. Very powerful, very determined.
"We were married to fulfill the prophecy we were both envisioned in. Amar was born, and taken into the fold as soon as he was old enough. Everyone thought he was to be the Dignitary. They trained him and waited until he turned thirteen before they performed the test of his true identity."
My mother reaches over and lightly touches the spot between my shoulder blades where I know the tattoo I received on my thirteenth birthday exists.
"The ink did not hold. Amar was not the Dignitary."
I briefly wonder how that must have felt to my brother. Was he disappointed? Did they even tell him? Or was he left in the dark like I was?
"Meanwhile, you were about three years old at the time. Such a sweet child. Sanjiv and I were so happy to have you, but it was not meant to be. The Rakshana knew of your birth and that you also fit the prophecy, but they waited until you were at an age they could take you before they told us. Sanjiv knew the entire time."
"He knew and never told you?"
"He never said a word."
"What a bastard," I say.
"Kartik, he's still your father. Watch your mouth."
I roll my eyes at being chastised. My mother chooses to ignore this. "To make a long story short, your father and I did not see eye to eye about you. Like I said before, he was a very prominent member in the Rakshana and he got there by force and manipulation. I will not lie; as good as he is in some ways, his arrogance and ego cloud his peripheral vision. I did not want you to end up the same. We fought about it, and eventually drifted apart."
I cannot say this knowledge doesn't make me feel bad, to know that my parents fell out of love because of me, but it has taken my mind off of other negative things. So now I know that my father is an egotistical bastard, though that was plain to see earlier this afternoon, but why is he so hell-bent on not joining up with the Order?
"Hatred by association," my mother says once I express this concern to her. "He wants nothing to do with the Order mainly because he wants nothing to do with me."
"I see."
"Do you? It's a very delicate relationship between the Order and Rakshana. That is why you and Miss Doyle are so important to the cause. Communication and cooperation must be present at all times. If the connection between the two of you were to be cut off, then there is no telling what might happen."
"But you said we shouldn't be together! You're always preventing us from seeing each other!" I'm angry. Everything she just said is in direct opposition of what she's been lecturing all along. Now it seems I've just gone and done the worst possible thing for the future, instead of the best.
My mother raises her eyebrows at my tone. "Balance, Kartik. Do you think I'd ever forbid the Goddess and the Dignitary from seeing each other?"
"That's what it seemed."
"Things are not always what they seem."
I feel stupid. I should've seen that.
"What I was trying to prevent was the two of you getting so in over your heads that rash acts started occurring. Do you know what would happen if she were to become pregnant? Do you know what would happen to you?"
I nod curtly. My cheeks sting with anger and humility. "Which is why we would never have done anything of the sort." She raises her eyebrows again. "We didn't," I insist angrily. I do not know what it is about my mother that rouses this level of immaturity. I'd be ashamed of myself, but my spite is such that I'm not.
"Alright, I believe you. I trust you. But what if the mischievous spirit of Alexios decided he was tired of waiting for Hypatia to come out and play? Or Alexander, who had this house built, would he not want to tempt his wife back to bed?"
"Mother!" I exclaim, thoroughly embarrassed.
"Kartik, darling, listen to me. You embody a spirit that has lived many times. You have many memories, many hopes, many fears, many desires. There is no telling when you may mistake them for your own current ones." She smoothes the hair from my forehead. "You can be with your Gemma, but remember, she is Gemma. Not Hypatia, not Aurelia. Do not lose sight of the girl you love now."
"Play by the rules of this time," I recite hollowly.
My mother smiles. "Exactly."
I have never been more confused.
There is a note on my bed. A bitter laugh escapes me. Well if he wishes to apologize now, he can forget it. I shan't let him have that satisfaction; I am not a toy to be played with.
I sit at my desk with my back to the bed. I shall write a letter to Ann, informing her of today's events. I dip my pen into the ink and pause. The letter's contents seem to burn a hole through my head, taunting me with its information. Curiosity wins.
I grab the note and read it. Instantly my blood goes cold. It is not from Kartik.
Miss Doyle,
I have something of value to you. Perhaps you'd like it back? I still reside at my old lodgings on Baker Street. I'd be delighted if you'd join me for tea tomorrow afternoon, say three o'clock? Come alone.
Hester Asa Moore
Something of value to me? What could she possibly have? My mind races with possibilities. One thing is for certain, come three o'clock tomorrow, I will find out.
It is with a heavy heart that I not only decline supper, but also retire to bed early. It is the master bedroom that I have claimed as my own; I suppose it is my right to after all. I find it strange to know that I now lie upon what was once my marriage bed. For the first time in a long while, I feel incomplete, restless. My attention keeps turning to the door that separates the bedroom from the walk-in closet, as if I expect Gemma to appear and crawl into bed with me. I suppose I can understand what my mother was referring to earlier. Old habits do die hard.
I want Gemma back. It was a stupid thing to suggest time apart. This bed is empty without her beside me. I suppose I could sneak into her room and take back everything I said, but pride keeps me immobile. I doubt she'd want to see me anyway.
What is there left to do? Life is rather dull without her. Until my mother gathers the Order, we all find ourselves at an impasse. Tomorrow I shall meet with the masters and request training. That seems to be all I can do.
Felicity Worthington fidgets with her hands nervously. Sitting before her, a constable and a hysterical Lady Denby. Lord Denby stands behind his wife, next to his butler. Another constable hovers by the fireplace.
"Please recount the events of your visit," the seated policeman says in a tone that suggests boredom.
"We had just been talking, and Simon started clutching his head in pain, as if he had a headache, and then…" Tears well up in Felicity's gray eyes.
"And then…?" The officer scribbles something into his notebook. Felicity shakes her head.
"The body was found burned, as if it had been set on fire." The second officer ignores the sudden wails of Lady Denby. "Do you know how this happened?"
"It…he just…it just happened."
"You're saying you had nothing to do with the death of Simon Middleton?"
"I had nothing to do with the death of Simon Middleton," Felicity echoes softly.
"She's lying!" Lady Denby screeches. She lunges at Felicity. "You're lying! You did it, I know it!"
"Madame, please!" The two constables struggle to restrain her. Lord Denby places a firm hand on his wife's shoulder. The seated constable flips through his notes.
"The butler says he has no memory of Miss Worthington even entering the residence, but eyewitness accounts have seen her leaving shortly after the estimated time of death. Miss Worthington, are you certain that you have no information concerning Simon Middleton's death?"
"No, sir." Her usual confidence is gone, dead just like Simon. Her eyes swell with tears. He saved my life.
The constable stands. "Then I'm afraid that without any evidence to prove your innocence, you're going to have to come with us."
"What? No!" she cries. "I am innocent! I swear it!"
"I am sorry, but that will have to be decided by Her Majesty's Crown Court."
She is sobbing now, terrified with the prospect of having to explain the unexplainable, lest she spend the rest of her life behind the rotting bars of Newgate Prison as a murderer.
Ooh I did not expect Kartik to "break up" with Gemma, nor did I expect Felicity to be suspected for murder. I must commend my fingers for typing such interesting developments!
Review please? I may have to start withholding updates until I get a certain number... Oh I am so spoiled. Bad author! But thanks to all who have reviewed so far. If you'd rather give Son of the Rakshana some love...I'm perfectly fine with that. xD But in all seriousness, reviews motivate me more than anything else, and once classes start I'll need lots of motivation!
Thinks Kartik is being a bit of a brat,
LunaEquus