Chapter 50. Good and Bad News
In less than two hours, we have received preliminary reports concerning which way Alcaster went. Before I let my husband leave, I make him promise that he will not deliberately put himself in any danger without approval from Sir Willard or myself for the rest of this cycle. It would be just like him to think he could affect a rescue on his own, and maybe he could, but I do not want to risk him. I cast a spell on Maeve with Waltz so we will both be able to find her as she travels with Sir Willard, kiss my husband goodbye, and he goes with a courier and a large bag of the notices through a portal. I used another portal myself to grab Parfait long enough to tell her what is happening. She expresses her sympathies, but the look she gives me says something else as well.
We still have not heard an affirmative agreement from Veles. Had Sir Willard successfully ended the threat Alcaster poised, my time might be up. The Tenebrarum is nearly repaired so it might be able to save my son without shattering right now, but if I do not have Veles's aid to get into the gods' own city, it might not matter. If Sir Willard has to chase Alcaster around for a few weeks instead of having the traitor beheaded tomorrow…in a way, this is the best outcome I could hope for. I have been given more time. If Emelaigne and Ophelia are recovered, it is good because they will not suffer as much. If they both die, that will cause me to experience more pain that will be used to finish healing the Tenebrarum and fill more of the measure on my dagger. Either way, the outcome is 'favorable.'
And I hate it that we are both thinking this way. It makes me physically ill.
The drawback of this, of course, is what Ophelia and Emelaigne will have to go through in the meantime. I know that Alcaster will carefully preserve their lives so long as he thinks they might be useful to him as puppets, but if he finds that Angielle will not follow him against me they will only be useful as bargaining chips…and Alcaster is the type of man that wants his way instead of having to bargain for only part of what he wants. He is just as likely to decide to take everyone with him in a 'glorious' last stand as surrender his hostages in exchange for a sentence of banishment instead of one of death.
All this passes between us silently, as Rod is standing right beside me. The only other thing I tell her is that Jurien's banishment has been lifted, and that Parfait should send her to bed because if she can be spared from the Marchen, Jurien has the night watch for my guard while I must remain in the palace. I also give her a document penned in my own hand and sealed with the royal seal so the guards at the gate will let Jurien through, and what the reinstated knight's assignment is. I am taking no chances that Alcaster may have left someone in the palace with instructions to kill me at night, so I need someone I trust absolutely to watch my door.
Rod and I take a late lunch in the dining room, and with only the two of us at the large table it seems empty. With Father still being treated and perhaps hovering between life and death, Ophelia and Emelaigne taken, and Waltz gone spreading the message…there are only the two of the six of us left to eat lunch here. I notice that the servants have removed the place settings that we will not need, and I am grateful for the effort because the extra settings would have only emphasized the absence of those not with us.
The servants appear to be doing what they can for us, and even though the cook has gone to the trouble of making one of my favorite dishes, as well as one of Rod's, I have to force myself to keep taking bites of my meal. I might not eat at all, but a very small someone is kicking right now as if to remind me that he would appreciate some food.
I look up from my own plate which is about half clean, to see Rod uncharacteristically slumped in his chair, merely pushing food around on his own plate with his fork. "I do not have much of an appetite either," I tell him, "but the baby is protesting right now, and I need to feed him at any rate."
"He's lucky," Rod decides, sitting up properly as he abandons his fork on his plate. "He has no idea what is going on. He knows nothing but warmth."
Warmth…and the sounds around him. My son is also familiar with the sound of my tears, even if he has no idea what they signify. How could he know? "Blissful ignorance is a part of being a child, I think," I tell my brother. "Once that is lost, so is childhood. You find out that the monsters hiding under your bed are imaginary, just as you find out that there are real monsters that you have to fight yourself. There are some battles no one else can fight for you."
My brother grimaces. "I just…tell me that they are alright."
"As long as Alcaster thinks they are useful, they will live," I tell him. "If he thinks they can be manipulated to do his will rather than needing more…forceful…persuasion, they will remain unharmed. Hopefully, they are smart enough to pretend they will accede to his wishes, that they believe whatever he tells them. If he relaxes their guard enough, that makes an escape more likely. He will only kill them if he believes that he has nothing to gain from keeping them alive, or if he thinks he has something to gain from their deaths."
Rod is silent for a moment. "That's not exactly what I wanted to hear."
"I will not offer you any comfortable lies in the place of painful truths," I tell him.
"I can respect that," he says slowly. "I am not a child to need them, anymore. I…just wish that they had taken me instead of my sister."
"If Alcaster was planning to set one of you up as a puppet ruler if he could rally Angielle against me, she would take preference over you as an heir to the throne," I tell him. "Were you older than she, he might have made extra effort and kidnapped you instead. But there is nothing you could do to make yourself older than yours sister."
Rod only sighs in response, and I think of something else. "Where were you when this was going on, by the way? Could they just not find you? I see no reason you would not have been taken as well if it were convenient for them to do so." He had to be on palace grounds instead of walking in town, to be found by that butler so quickly.
Rod grimaces. "I had asked for extra sword lessons this morning, but since the Redarms were supposed to have the field this morning, my teacher and I were out practicing near the walls, near the gate the Redarms did not use to get out. That's where that butler found me, shouting that it was an emergency and that you needed me right away."
He varied his routine, so they did not find him. I suppose that even shoddy swordsmanship can save people sometimes. "Then it's good that you needed the extra lessons," I tell him. "You may have saved yourself. Were you a good swordsman, you would probably be gone."
My brother does not have time to do more than frown at the table when the doors to the dining room open, and Maeve comes in and curtsies to me. She is wearing a smile as she does so, and I breathe a sigh of relief before she even opens her mouth.
"Your father lives, Bearer," Maeve tells me. "Runia is moving him to his rooms as we speak, and you may talk to him for a few minutes after she has him situated."
"Thank the gods," I breathe. I stand and turn to a butler that is standing against the wall. "Inform Sir Decimond of the king's survival, and then tell the other administrators as well."
"Yes, Your Highness," the butler replies, bowing to me with a look of relief on his own face before leaving to carry out his task. If I remember correctly, this butler serves my father on a fairly regular basis. As I look around at the other servants, their faces appear relieved as well. My father is well loved by the staff.
I turn to Maeve. "Thank you for your own efforts. Father would not have lived long enough for Runia to save him if it had not been for your own actions." And now my father has personal experience with a curse cast by a good witch to benefit a human. There is almost a poetic justice to that.
Maeve smiles as she curtsies to me once more. "Thank you, Bearer," she tells me. She knows that all the servants know her as a witch now, and one involved with saving the king's life. As much as servants gossip, that reputation will stick with her. She might be able to live the rest of her life openly as a witch now, and not be troubled for it as she saved the life of a beloved king…assuming time does not reset, which it will. I find it a pity that the heroism of such a woman will be forgotten as the next cycle proceeds. I will be the only one to remember. "Runia says that she has no further need of me, and is watching over your father herself. You said that you might send me with Sir Willard to help him in his duties…?"
I nod. "He is finishing preparations to go after the traitor as we speak, and is probably meeting in the barracks with his officers right now. As far as I am concerned, your aid no longer needs to be discrete." Meaning that she may ride a horse instead of in Sir Willard's pocket, openly as my servant. Sir Willard will also tell his men that she is the witch that kept the king alive in the initial phase of the assassination attempt. The soldiers might view her warily, but they will be grateful enough for her actions that a few suspicious glances will be all she will have to bear. After all, she had accomplished the same duty they are sworn to with no oath on her part at all, and they owe her for it.
"It is a pleasure to serve you, Bearer," Maeve tells me, still smiling as she drops one more curtsey before hurrying out the door.
I turn around to my brother. "If you are finished…."
Rod gets up from the table immediately. "We should go see him. And…and he needs to know about Mother and Emelaigne."
And I get a lump in my throat. I will probably need to tell him myself. I am not going to make Rod tell him as I think he is barely holding together himself, and that news needs to come from family. This assumption is further warranted by the way Rod appears to be trying to look in every direction as we walk down the halls to my father's suite; he is holding so tightly to his promise to watch me for Waltz, he does not allow himself to break apart while accomplishing this task. It is probably only when Jurien replaces him tonight that he will retire to his own room, and allow himself to fully process the events of the day.
When we reach my father's suite, we enter into the parlor area to find a small crowd there. The door to my father's bedroom is shut, and Runia is giving a list of strict instructions to the servants circling her.
"He can drink in several hours if he wishes, but no solid food for three days," she tells them in a tone that should be accompanied by finger wagging. "For the first day, only broth, and other liquids clear enough for me to see through! If he wants honey in his tea, that is fine, but no milk! On the second day, he can have anything else he can drink, including soup, and some soft foods. If he can keep that down, he may have whatever he likes the day after that. He is not allowed out of bed at all until tomorrow, but may sit in a chair then. On the third day, he may walk short distances. At that point, you can attach wheels to the bottom of a chair and push him around the palace if he's feeling strong enough. I will be staying myself until the morning just in case, but Dr. Chevalier will watch him after that and tend to his medication. If I find that my orders have been violated in the slightest, I will track down the perpetrator, and turn him into a squirrel!"
And I cannot help but smile. The old witch has gotten her chance to order the king of Angielle to bed, and I am sure that she is loving it.
"Your Highness?" the ranking butler says as he notices me standing there.
"Do as she says," I tell them. "And get Runia, as well as Dr. Chevalier, quarters however close to their patient as they want them. And a meal as well…I pulled Runia away from her breakfast this morning."
Runia nods as if she expected no other response from me, and I would not say anything else anyway. For one thing, we do not need any more squirrels in the palace.
The servants disperse from around Runia, and I approach her. "Thank you so much for your efforts. May I see my father now?" I ask.
She nods. "Yes, he is awake, or was a few minutes ago. He was asking for you, and your stepmother as well. I'm not sure that he will sleep without medication before he sees you." She is silent for a moment. "What of the assassin?"
"Alcaster escaped the city walls, and with Ophelia and Emelaigne as hostages," I admit. "Sir Willard should be leaving the palace with men to conduct the pursuit as we speak."
The old witch hisses quietly. "That is not welcome news, but your father will need to hear it. I might have to mix up something for a dreamless sleep. He will need it."
"Sir Decimond was wanting to show a few others that Father still lives, so they would not get the wrong idea," I admit. "You might want to wait to give him anything strong until after that."
"Fine," Runia grumbles in a way that tells me she clearly wishes that she could let her patient sleep. Unfortunately, some duties cannot be ignored. She turns to a maid that is standing beside the door. "Tell the man that he can bring up to six people to see the king in about an hour for a short visit. After that, I am attending to my patient's own needs."
The maid curtsies, and hurries out the door at a run. Perhaps she thinks that Sir Decimond will need as much time to summon those he needs to get them to the palace, but I know better. The advisor probably sent messengers summoning those he wanted to the palace as soon as he had spoken with me earlier today. Most of them may be here by now. He is probably in his office, telling them that he is awaiting the last to arrive before telling them what they are there for. At least, I am sure that that was what he was doing before that butler found him to tell him of the king's survival.
It is not without some amount of trepidation that I turn to face my father's bedroom door, and place my hand on the latch. I enter a darkened room lit only by a few candles to see Chevalier sitting on a chair beside my father's bed. My father is in a nightshirt, propped up with pillows so he sits up slightly, and covered past his waist by a light blanket. He stirs at hearing the noise of the door latch clicking as Rod shuts it behind us. "Father?" I say softly, walking over to beside the bed. Chevalier quickly abandons the chair, and I take it. Rod walks over to drag another chair over so he can sit beside me. "Father, I am here," I say as I reach out to grasp his hand. I hear the door open and close again, but I assume without looking that it is just Chevalier leaving.
"Lucette," he says softly, sounding more tired and looking as pale as I have ever seen him. He turns his head and his own yellow eyes find mine. "My Lucette…my light."
And I can no longer hold back tears as they begin to run down my cheeks, and I find that I have to funnel uncalled power away into a harmless shield. I am only surprised that I have held off for this long without needing to do so. It seems to be taking more powerful emotions from me to gain power from the Tenebrarum as it heals…it must be nearly repaired. My son will live, until the next cycle at least.
My father's eyes widen as he notices that I am weeping, and I realize that he has never seen me do this before. As I weep in Waltz's arms nearly every day my tears are no novelty to me, but to my father….
"Lucette, what else happened?" he asks, and then his eyes flicker to Rod's face. Even in this lighting, he can see that Rod appears pale. "Rod, you are here, but where is…?"
"Ophelia and Emelaigne were taken by Alcaster and his men," I say, wanting to get it out as fast as I can. I do not want him to suffer dread for longer than necessary, only to find that the dread was justified. I remember being terrified to open my eyes, the first morning of this cycle, when I had realized that I could not feel Waltz there beside me…and then when I finally opened them, I found my husband gone, and knew that it had started all over again. It had been two blows, one right after the other, instead of one blow. "They were taken alive, and Alcaster and his Redarms made it out of the gate. I have sent Sir Willard in pursuit, and published the appropriate notices already. Waltz is helping with that."
My father's eyes grow haunted. "He…he…took them," he says softly. "Sir Willard had found proof that Alcaster tried to murder your child and husband. Alcaster tried to kill me, and blame a loyal man and essentially you in connection. He took my wife, and our daughter…." My father is silent for a moment. "After failing to corrupt you, he decided to try to start a civil war. How…?"
My father appears to be unable to clearly state it is what he wonders, and there are so many ways to finish that thought. How could Alcaster betray him? How could he not see the signs, or why did he ignore them? How could he not have sent Ophelia and the children away just to be on the safe side like Tuttle had suggested?
Maybe he simply wonders how this could have happened to him…to us.
"Under the circumstances," I tell him, "I hope you do not mind that I signed an offer for pardon and title for anyone that rescues Ophelia or Emelaigne, or a death warrant for Alcaster."
My father shakes his head. "No Lucette, both actions are warranted. And…I will leave such matters to you until the witch Healer allows me out of bed." He is silent for a moment before starting to weep. "I should have heeded…I should have sent them somewhere safe," he manages to get out before dissolving into tears.
I hear a sniffing noise from beside me, and look over to see that Rod has started to cry too. I grasp my brother's hand as well, and the three of us spend the remainder of the hour weeping together.
Right now, that is all we can do. And for perhaps the first time, I feel as if the three of us…the passive father, the silent brother, and the unwillingly manipulative daughter…are really family, as we are united in our grief.
….
For the first five days, I take care of all the essential duties of the monarch with Sir Decimond at my side while my father convalesces. It is the first time I have ever done this, and I am grateful that I did take my father up on training me to do so earlier in the cycle. Sir Decimond assures me that I am doing well, especially considering the circumstances. Some of the 'minor' problems that my father usually deals with mysteriously disappear as the city reels from the shock of recent events, and most of the nobles that have come to see my father for one reason or another give me their well wishes for his recovery instead of letting me address their concerns. According to Sir Decimond, these are the same that show up a couple of times a year hoping to advantage their own property or business by asking some favor of the king, and that I should spare them no mind because my father usually politely tells them to go back home and play fair with one another.
I decide that they simply believe that a pregnant witch that has just been deprived of most of her family would have little patience for pettiness. That is fine with me, because I really do have very little tolerance for such right now.
During most waking hours, Rod is my shadow. I think that this is at least as much due to his promise to Waltz to watch me as it is a desire for any information about his mother and sister. He knows that if anything is found, Father and I will be the first to be told…and with Father still in bed, I might be told first. He does prefer to take meals wherever I happen to be working rather than going to the dining room, which is fine as far as I am concerned.
"It's just so…empty there," my brother tells me, pulling a chair up to Father's desk in the large study to eat lunch one day. I cannot help but marvel that the servants got all of that blood cleaned up in here…and then I finally notice that there is simply a different carpet on the floor.
"It is," I sigh, carefully placing important paperwork to the side so I will not get gravy on it. Only the two of us are in the study, with a butler and guards outside and Sir Decimond gone to take his own lunch with his wife. He has moved Viorica to the palace, as he has moved himself in until things are settled. "It only emphasizes they are not there."
"It's ok if you tell me that you miss Waltz," Rod says.
And I miss him every second I am not engrossed in something else. My husband has been such a part of my day, I feel like I should turn around and see him standing there. And when I do turn around, I realize that he is not there all over again…even though I know this is just temporary.
I wake up at night sometimes, in my bedroom in the palace, and momentarily panic when he is not there until I notice that the doll shelf is not there either. It is then that I realize that the cycle has not restarted yet again…that there is still a chance for me, and for my son. "It seems…selfish of me to say so," I tell my brother. "Especially when he is handling communications for Sir Willard, and not in any direct danger."
"But he is still not here," Rod points out. "And you want him to be. Just like I think I should see Emelaigne if I turn around…or Mother."
My brother falls quiet for a long minute, just staring at his food, not touching it. "I checked, I always do now," I tell him. "It's not poisoned."
Rod shakes his head at me. "It's not that. I just want to know that they are coming back."
And I want to tell him that even if the worst happens, in a few weeks Emelaigne will be bursting through the doors of the dining room again, going on about her fairytale books. But I do not. "I will make no promises concerning that," is what I tell him. "Scrying is not always reliable." In fact, in my one lesson with that, I had been seeing mostly things that happened in the 'future' of the other cycles. Waltz told me that that made sense, because it is easier for things to appear in crystal if the witch has some knowledge of them. In fact, the only thing that I saw that I had not seen before was the witch that is impersonating a priest taking a blue child from a frantic mother, and the child began to turn pink again, and the child's breathing eased. But this made little sense since I know the man is supposed to be a scholar with a little ability in illusion, and not a healer of any sort. Parfait had confirmed that, when I had spoken with her and told her his real name; that he was indeed the witch scholar she had spoken of previously.
At any rate, it has nothing to do with Ophelia or Emelaigne.
After the first five days, Father is able to rise from his bed, and walk a little without getting dizzy. I catch him up on what I have and have not taken care of as he sits in a chair in the small study of his suite, but he still delegates most matters to me as he continues to recover. Still, we hear nothing about the chase that is going on, far from the palace gaits.
We hear no word for an entire week. When we do, it is a letter from Sir Willard that appears on my father's desk, the first day Father is able to sit up in his chair for long enough to get much of anything done. Waltz put a note on the bottom of the page, saying that he will open very small portals at the desk to give updates and receive instructions every evening, but not larger portals because they will take too much power at that distance. And that he loves me and misses me, of course. I smile fondly even as I wish he had used a separate parchment I could keep, instead of penning that in at the end of Sir Willard's official report.
Alcaster seems to have tried to get into several towns, but they were walled and closed against him as soon as the sentries saw that they wore red. Even with Alcaster burning bridges behind him, Sir Willard was close enough that Alcaster had moved on rather than staying to fight to get over any walls. And the notices Waltz was spreading are appearing to work, as local lords refuse both sanctuary and supplies to Alcaster, closing their keeps against him. They even have enough notice to bring their shepherds and flocks behind walls, so animals are not stolen for food. The only prey left are the small unwalled villages and towns with the farms they subsist from, but even the local mayors have been warned against Alcaster so the Redarms are reduced to theft from those townships and farms.
I knew when I wrote the announcement that this would happen, that those able to protect themselves from Alcaster would do so, and then he would prey on those that had no defense against him. If this really was a civil war instead of something that would be erased in weeks, it would leave the villages destitute, but the nation poisoned against Alcaster. But I know that the people in those hamlets will go hungry in the meantime, and even with those thefts, the Redarms might still be hungry as well.
Maeve is proving herself very useful in replacing the bridges Alcaster had burned. With her magic, what should slow the knights for days slows them for less than half of one instead as she stoneshapes rock to make even better bridges than the ones that had been destroyed. This allows not only for Sir Willard's men to cross safely, but supply trains of food and goods as well as reinforcements consisting of men-at-arms from local lords wishing to prove their loyalty to the Crown to find them. After all, there is nothing like a probable looser in rebellion against the Crown to make lords want to affirm their loyalty to the throne. What Alcaster lacks, Sir Willard has and is gaining more. By now, Alcaster has to know that once he has to fight, he is dead. Which is probably why he keeps moving as fast as he can. Everyone, probably including Alcaster himself, knows that he cannot run forever and time does not favor him.
I doubt he expected so much opposition, that instead he would be able to enter towns and spread his lies that I had to be defeated for killing my father. He probably thought that he could rouse the country against a witch quickly…but Waltz has ensured everyone in his path knew the truth of the situation before he even neared the towns' gates. Even if people do not wholly believe my side of the story, my edict is enough to stop them from open support. I have declared myself both vengeful and generous; those that believe me more my mother's daughter consider me vengeful, and those that believe me more my father's daughter consider me generous. Either way, it would make sense to follow my commands.
Sir Willard notes that he had sent a messenger with a parley flag to negotiate terms to release Ophelia and Emelaigne, with documents stating that even pardon would not be off the table for their safe return. However, the man had been found dead with the seals of his message unbroken, and a note stabbed to his chest with a knife saying that any attempt at rescue would mean death for the hostages. Obviously, Alcaster is not interested in parley.
Some men would rather control their own destiny, rather than let anyone else dictate it…even if their path leads directly to the grave. Or else Alcaster simply does not want his men to know that they could still earn pardon or even more by returning their hostages, and only death if they do not. I can only guess that Alcaster wants his men to believe that they are doomed to his own fate, to keep them from abandoning him.
To treat his own men in such a way….
Alcaster would have made a terrible king.
….
It is after I end an evening session with the Tenebrarum that it hits me once more how much I miss my husband. I had not been to it for well over a week as events have been causing enough pain and stress on their own, but now….
During previous sessions, Waltz had always been there to comfort me, to hold me as I wept. Now, Jurien waits outside what had once been my mother's private sanctum, and I am alone as I work. And I dare not go too far into the pain, knowing that there is no one to catch me if I start to fall.
When I judge myself finished for the evening, looking over the now nearly flawless Crystallum, I wash my face and check myself in the mirror to ensure I appear composed even though it still feels like there are thorns around my heart without Waltz to banish them. I open the door, and collect Jurien who is sitting against the wall of the passage. She has been my companion from sunset to sunrise, since I had her banishment repealed. When she arrived, I told her that my father thought that she had taught me the sword before she was banished, and to play along. Once my father was able to sit up in bed, she accepted his apology with grace. Now, as she gets up, she looks at me with something like pity. "You miss your husband, don't you Princess?"
"Only when my heart beats," I tell her softly, and my response makes her grimace as well. "Is it as much as you miss Garlan? There is no need to hide it from me if you do miss him."
Jurien sighs. "I do miss him. He was so much a part of my life, he always had my back, and now I turn around and he is not there anymore. It's like a part of me is missing."
"Then you would give him another chance?" I ask her. "He wanted me to encourage him to confess to you in the next cycle."
Jurien nods. "Do it. Both of the Bearers he was sent to agreed to help you, so he has done his part to help end this. He deserves another chance."
"And because you miss him," I note.
"I only miss that man every now and then…just when my heart beats," Jurien tells me, sharing my wry smile with me before we go through the hidden door that to return to the public hallways of the palace.
I have only gotten halfway to my room when a maid finds me, and curtsies. "Your Highness," she says, "His Majesty would like to see you in his office before you retire for the evening."
"Very well," I answer. "Tell him that I am coming," I say, and the maid scurries toward my father's study much faster than I can glide. Maids are allowed to run as they wish, but princesses only in emergencies. "I wonder what this is all about, and why he's not in bed, himself," I half mutter to Jurien. Father has been able to do more of his work, which is what freed me up to perform mine tonight, but it is getting late.
"I couldn't say, Princess," Jurien admits. "With Chevalier not keeping an eye on him every waking moment anymore, it would not surprise me if your father is trying to push his limits a little."
"Men," I sigh, as I walk towards the study where I had found a statue in a pool of blood not so long ago.
Jurien actually gives me a wry smile as we walk. "I suppose," she says, "that even His Majesty himself cannot escape the failings of that designation."
I find myself actually chuckling a little at that in spite of myself. I suppose that without the company of my husband, the company of a friend is the next best thing. The thorns feel a little less sharp.
When we reach the study, Jurien looks into it first to ensure that only my father is there with his own guard waiting outside before joining the other knight outside the door to keep watch. I enter, and shut the door behind me. "You wanted to see me, Father?" I ask, taking the chair in front of his desk.
My father, who is seated behind the desk, appears to be engrossed in a parchment that he puts down when I address him. "Yes, Lucette. I have received a report from Sir Willard."
"Then do not leave me in suspense," I say. Waltz makes his portal at sunset every day, so we know when to look for new information and when to have new orders on the desk. Father would have received this report more than a few hours ago. Why would he still be perusing it? "What does he say?"
"They have found which way Alcaster went in that forest, and he appears to be heading toward Fort Summerfell," my father says. I know that particular fort to be on the northern seaboard, near the border with Brugantia. It protects a harbor town, and serves as a deterrent to the raiders of the north. Both the fort and the town are isolated from every direction but one strip of land and the sea, so I could see where Alcaster might think the fort's commander unaware of his treachery. Is he desperate, or has he truly not yet figured out that Waltz is using portals to warn people about him? "He thinks that the fort might be Alcaster's target, but it is well defended enough that Alcaster would have to use guile instead of mere force. He is unsure if Alcaster intends to take the fort and use it as a staging ground for further action, or if he intends to make free with the boats of the harbor to escape with his forces elsewhere."
"I could see either being plausible," I admit. Some mercenary companies have started under similar conditions. Failed rebels have become soldiers of fortune, before. However, I somehow doubt that Alcaster intends to use Ophelia and Emelaigne as shields as he escapes elsewhere and turns his forces into a mercenary band. His goals have always been loftier than that. "If he succeeds either way, it would make it harder to recover Ophelia and Emelaigne."
My father nods. "The fort has been forewarned against him, and the likely tactics Alcaster might employ to gain entry. Sir Willard is considering different methods of rescue, since Alcaster has resisted negotiation for their release." His mouth twists. I suppose killing a messenger carrying a parley flag could be classified as 'resisting negotiation.' It is a tactic considered most foul, as parley messengers are always sent unarmed; the man would have died without even having the satisfaction of a chance of dying with the blood of an enemy on his blade. "At any rate, Maeve and Waltz have volunteered to attempt a rescue themselves since we are all certain that an unsuccessful rescue will result in the deaths of the hostages. However, Sir Willard is hesitant to risk your husband's life even in exchange for that of the queen and a princess, and it is impractical for Maeve to go by herself since she is incapable of making portals."
I grip the arms of the chair, my knuckles turning white as he says this. Waltz…. "Father, I…." I take a deep breath. The thing about sneaking into an enemy camp is that most of the traitors should know each other by face, if not necessarily by name. As competent as my husband is in a fight, he is not the thespian I am, and he does not move like a soldier. Even wearing an illusion to disguise himself, he might still be recognized as someone that did not belong in camp, and attacked. What if Waltz were to die in such an attempt? He could die from someone sticking a sword in him just like anyone else. Death cancels marriage contracts. When I awake during the next cycle, he would remember nothing. Not only would he not remember marrying me during the last cycle, he would not remember falling in love with me during this one. I close my eyes and shudder at the thought.
I fought so hard for him. Would I have the strength to fight even harder a second time?
"I can see that he is right to hesitate," my father says softly, and I open my eyes to meet those of my father's. "Everyone knows that you changed when Waltz came back into your life, and Sir Willard fears that his loss may be the worst possible thing that could happen to you. It is obvious to everyone that you are in love with your husband, and the loss of a loved one has been known to turn witches to corruption before. How valid is this concern?"
How much would it injure me to lose my husband, even temporarily, only to regain him without his memories within weeks? I know that I will need to fix the Tenebrarum again, and that I will have to do so much faster than I did this time. I will need him even more then than I did this round. If he cannot remember loving me in the next cycle, I would not to be able to bear as much pain. I would be more likely to fail…to fall. And I cannot do that…not now.
Waltz should never have volunteered, but he cares for Ophelia and Emelaigne too. He thinks he can do this without dying, but I am less certain. And I am grateful that I made him promise that he would not do anything risky without getting permission; otherwise, he might have tried it already.
My eyes drop to the desk. "I would not want to risk his death, but I cannot ask you to risk the deaths of Ophelia and Emelaigne for me." Even though I know that those potential deaths would be temporary, I still cannot bring myself to ask him to risk them. I take a deep breath. "I do think that my husband's death would affect me more than the deaths of my sister and stepmother. But…did you know that this happens to witches sometimes when a family member dies, back during the Witch Hunts? That the trauma of a loved one dying can put them into an emotional state that allows corruption to decide that they are vulnerable, and present itself?"
"I…did not know the exact mechanism of how that worked until this moment," my father slowly admits. "Just that some witches that had once been liked by their communities turned to darkness when a family member was killed."
"Why did you father allow it, if you knew even that much?" I ask. "Did he not realize that he was allowing Angielle to make the witches into what the populace thought they were from the spread of those children's tales? The witches did not even have to do anything wrong to be killed…even the children were killed simply because they would use magic one day!"
My father is silent for a long moment. "Your mother said almost the exact same thing, when she came before my father, just before she murdered him."
"I am not saying that she had the right to murder him," I tell my father. "She did have a right to be furious with him. He allowed his subjects to commit murder and infanticide, and then denied their victims justice! That is how Runia's only child died. They even mobbed and murdered a Healer that would have served them, just because she was a witch. She was even with child herself, at the time. They killed not only one Healer…they murdered two. That talent is blood-bound, and the babe would have been a Healer, one day."
My father lets out a long sigh. "I guess that it is good that Runia did not turn, when that happened. As it was…I remember her saying something to the effect that she was treating me for your sake, and not mine."
"Some people are stronger, and some are weaker," I tell him quietly. "It takes more to break some, than others." And I know that I have to face the same pain my mother did. Will I be stronger than she was? "With Bearers…we feel the deaths as they occur. I can tell when a witch has died, and roughly how they did die. For example, if someone dies old in their bed, it's more like a sigh as they pass on." And I have felt this several times, since I became Bearer. "If it is violent instead…well, it's like reliving their final moments. I feel the exact same pain as they die."
"And that is what your mother bore, before she accepted corruption," my father admits, uncomfortably. "She…told me of it, on occasion."
I nod. "She had the choice to accept corruption or not, and she bore the responsibility of that choice…but the humans were the ones that caused her to have that choice in the first place. They bear some responsibility for what happened, as well. Crimes do not exist in vacuum, and your father denied justice. You have never spoken to me about what he was like as a man or a father, but he can't have been much of a king to allow what transpired during the Witch Hunts."
"He was a good father, and I loved him," my father tells me. "He always wanted the best for me, and made time to spend with me. But as a ruler, he was…passive."
And now I know where my father got that trait from. It was probably how he had survived my mother's reign, because she simply did not see him as a threat to her. But…it was also how he allowed me to get so far away from him once she was defeated, when he knew that I would be a witch someday. He knew that I was cold and growing even more so, but when I did not respond to the efforts he attempted to make when he finally tried, he…gave up, or at least he stopped taking active action when he should have been increasing his efforts. And he did so knowing that I might turn into a corrupted Tenebrarum Bearer that might rule his kingdom under darkness once more.
His inaction could have led to even more tragedy; he would have repeated his own father's mistake, leading to nearly the very same result—a corrupted witch queen, ruling Angielle.
"So, he just allowed things to happen, knowing that it was wrong to do so?" I ask.
"It was more complicated than that," he says. "He thought that there might be some truth to the tales. Even stories have to come from somewhere, and the fairies were not helping the witches in any way he could find. He assumed that they would have, if they thought that the witches deserved to be helped."
"The fairies were afraid, too," I answer. "They were afraid that the humans would turn on everyone with magic, and not just the witches, if they helped. They were cowardly…and they eventually had to pay the price of that by fighting in the Great War when so many of their former friends became corrupted because they had not been given sanctuary, or aid. It did not help that their Bearer did not provide directives telling them to be more proactive about the situation. Parfait had though that the tales were benign, that her fairies should know what to do without her having to tell them to do it, and that my mother was wise enough to find the solution. But, she was both wrong and passive…which sounds a lot like your father come to think of it." Which also sounds like you.
"And…he was fearful as well," my father admits. "The fairytales were so popular, were accepted as truth, so that he was not sure that he would have the power to stop the Witch Hunts if he wanted to. So, he decided that he did not want to rather than have his weakness become apparent, and distanced himself from the witches as much as he could."
"A mistake for more than one reason," I deadpan. "Maeve had been with a division of guards that investigated crime, before she was dismissed when the Fairytales became popular. Do you have any idea how many criminals would have been put into jail long ago, how many crimes could have been prevented by that, had she not been dismissed? His actions, and lack of action, hurt humans as well. And to provide justice is the role of every monarch, even if it is not easy. Why else are we here, if not to provide justice and safety for our subjects? I know that sometimes, it is easier to say than to do, but that does not mean that one should not try something simply because it is difficult."
"You are right in that," my father admits. "And whatever he thought about the adult witches, he should not have allowed the massacre of their children. It was a dreadful mistake for a king to make, and I could have understood if your mother had cursed him for it, but she took…a different route."
"By accepting corruption and killing the reigning king, forcing you to marry her, ruling Angielle in darkness…and then to top that off, she forced you to produce her own heir," I note. There is no reason to mince words.
"I…do not even remember that night, how it happened," he tells me, looking down, "but…that may have been a small mercy." Yellow eyes come up from the desk to meet mine. "You must understand Lucette, that even though I was never willing, that I still consider you the only good thing your mother ever had any part in. It is why I named you 'Lucette,' which means 'light.' I hoped that you would be the little flicker of light even in my darkest times. There was never a time that I did not love you once I set eyes on you, even if I was unable to or simply bad at showing you how I felt. It was my mistake that I did not try harder to let you know, once the war was over. I have done very little but fail you as a father."
I am silent for a moment, unable to disagree with that statement. He has had a few successes as a father to me, but he is unable to remember them. When he has done something good for me in this cycle, such as allowing me to leave the palace to train at the Marchen, appointing Sir Willard to the investigation, or allowing me to marry Waltz, I had basically backed him into a corner first. I had given him no choice but to give me what I needed of him, so I cannot honestly praise him for doing so. But I can think of a potentially relevant question. "Just before I turned you from a statue before Runia started working on you," I slowly ask, "you said that you were a fool. Were you speaking of something in specific?"
My father sighs. "I…was speaking to the fact that I had been so suspicious of witches and trusting of Alcaster, and here he had run me through with a sword, and the witches were the ones saving me. After the things your mother had done, I had been suspicious of them all because she led them…but I no longer had that excuse, I realized. At that time, I recognized that Runia and Maeve owed me nothing, and that they were taking those actions because they served you…and other witches might exhibit similar behavior and for the same reason. But now I know that they saved me in spite of what my father had allowed to happen to them. Maeve was denied the chance to serve Angielle, which quite probably allowed more criminals to roam the streets…like those you caught at the warehouse. And Runia…." His voice cracks for a second. "I…can only imagine what it would be like to lose a pregnant daughter, both my child and grandchild at the same time. I do not even want to think about what it would be like to lose you."
"I am in no particular danger of death, whatever happens to the…" I take a deep breath, and stop, my hand on my belly. But my father senses what I meant to say anyway.
"Do you have a specific reason to worry for the baby?" he asks me gently.
I bite my lip, and nod. "He has a heart problem Runia found some time ago. She did some preliminary work in fixing it, but she says she might have to do more shortly before he is born. And I do not know if she will still be here when I need her again. If not…I will only be able to hold him a few hours before he dies."
My father nods slowly. "She is old…and the only Healer in Angielle," he says, and I nod again. It is not that I suspect that she might die before I need her again…after all, she is alive right now…but what if she does not agree to come with the rest of us? My son's only other hope would be the 'grace' the gods promised me for the successful completion of my task…and I have no idea what that 'grace' might be.
My father sighs. "Lucette, I wish you would tell me these things. I might not be able to do anything about them, but I would still like to know if you want me to be there with you when you are in pain to try to support you in any way that I can. I would like to know if you expect that I will always fail you, or if you will give me opportunity to try to do better."
"It's not that I do not want you there Father," I tell him. "I…guess that I got used to dealing with things myself. Waltz was always so gentle, so protective of me, I could not help but share my vulnerabilities with him. He wants to know where I am weak, so he can protect me. He also comforts me from the effects of things it is impossible to protect me from. It is just that it does not occur to me to let you protect me from anything, because I find myself taking action to protect you rather than the other way around."
"Like when you hid Maeve in Sir Willard's pouch, and summoned the only Healer that could have saved me? Like how you were suspicious of Alcaster early on, and managed to put Sir Willard in a position where Alcaster would have opposition so a coup would be impossible?" he says, and I nod at that even while I tally a much longer list than he would suspect in my head of things I did in the previous cycles to try to save his life. I took up a blade and used it, I let my mother go free, I gave the greatest performance of my life in replicating her, I seduced one of my greatest enemies…. After all of that, I had taken the role of protecting my father, rather than allowing him to try to protect me.
And I realize that what he is saying is the truth…that I had come to expect only failure from him when it came to offering protection. I had seen him as helpless against the dangers, and once the dangers were allowed to manifest themselves, he really was helpless…and I am certain that he hated it each and every time. He probably hates being helpless as much as I do…and hates that I see him as powerless, a failure, or worse yet…both.
It had not really occurred to me that in most families, the parents protect the children especially when the children are young. It has never really occurred to me that as messed up as my relationship with my mother, who was and is actively trying to corrupt me, ever was that my relationship with my father was never anywhere near 'normal' either. It was really no wonder that I had turned into what I did, before Delora cursed me for the first time. I still made my own choices and was responsible for the things that I had and had not done, but both of my parents had heavily influenced what I thought my 'reasonable' choices were.
But Waltz had stepped in. My father might have squandered the chance he had to become the father he had wanted to be to me once my mother was gone, but without Waltz, he would never have had that chance in the first place. Without Waltz, my father would not have the choice he is being presented with now. And I have to wonder…did my husband deliberately give my father this choice simply so he would have to sort out exactly what his priorities were? Did Waltz volunteer to risk his life to save Ophelia and Emelaigne so Father would have to decide if he would prioritize me and his duty as king, or the woman he had always loved and her daughter?
Somehow…I doubt it. Or at least, this is not something Waltz would do of his own initiative. I could see Decimond telling him to do this, or perhaps even Tuttle…but not Sir Willard. Either way, my father is being forced to decide if he will continue to be passive or not. He is being forced to decide exactly how much he loves me, and if he will perform as a king or simply let events carry him along in his life.
My father sighs after a moment. "I have been a terrible father to you Lucette, and I am sorry for it," he says softly, and my eyes raise up to look at him again. "And it is high time I start protecting you, and to serve both you and Angielle…there is only one choice I can make. Concerning your husband, my wife, and Emelaigne…it is not merely about who can and who cannot be risked. It is also about what is best for Angielle…that is the burden of the monarch. We can, and often do, make personal sacrifices for our nation. Perhaps I made a mistake in my youth, marrying your mother to save Ophelia…perhaps I should have refused her and suffered the consequences…perhaps the Great War would have never happened. Perhaps if I had begged her to spare my father's life and promised justice for the witches that had not done harm when I became king on the condition my father lived, that the Witch Hunt would stop…perhaps she would have accepted that. I am sure there was some curse that would have left Father alive, but unable to rule so I would have to take the throne immediately, and she might not have embraced corruption."
"Perhaps," I admit, both hoping for and dreading what I think he is actually getting at. But what would Angielle look like today, had my father made that offer and my mother taken him up on it? I can only imagine that she was desperate when she decided to accept corruption and murder the king to take control of Angielle. She must had tried everything else she could think of if she had tried to appeal to the priesthood that had kicked the witches out centuries before. She might have agreed not to kill the king in exchange for the end of the Witch Hunts. If that had happened, I would not be here today, nor would Emelaigne or Rod. Ophelia would have married my father years ago, and bore his children instead of those of another man. But there would be so many other people still alive. Parfait would not have needed to fight her friend. The Crystallum would not have cracked while being forced to fight each other.
"But you are not simply the heir to the throne," my father tells me. "You are the Tenebrarum Bearer as well…and Angielle cannot risk suffering under another corrupt Tenebrarum Bearer as queen any more than I can risk failing you yet again, and when you need my aid the most. While if both Ophelia and Emelaigne died, it would injury you, but I think the death of your husband would put you at even greater risk…especially if there is a chance you could also lose the baby. You will never need Waltz more than if your child is lost. I will tell Sir Willard that he is to risk your husband's life under no circumstances, and to treat it as he would treat yours or mine."
Tears well in my eyes, and I cannot help but start to weep again after so recently drying my face of them. My father comes from around his desk to take the chair next to me, and this time he holds me as I cry while I use the unbidden power for another needless shield. Both Ophelia and Emelaigne might die for me…for Angielle, really, but also for me. And this is after the exorbitant price my father and all of Angielle had paid to keep Ophelia alive. I know that this will be temporary…but my father makes his decision with no knowledge of this. He believes that he will have to live with the consequences of his choice to put my husband's life above those of his own wife and stepdaughter.
I have no idea how I can even start to repay my father for doing this for me. And I note that my father's eyes are not dry either as he holds me in his arms. We weep together once more, and it is not so different as that night we spent in the dungeon together just before he died.
Sometimes I wonder if my son is as familiar with the sound of my weeping as he is the sound of my voice, but it is my tears that will grant him life and pave the way to end this all. So, I weep. And perhaps…perhaps I really can name my son after my father like Waltz suggested.
My husband always sees the best in people, always tells me that even though my father made mistakes, that he still loved me…and I have to wonder if Waltz saw this.
There is nothing greater my father could have laid down for my sake.
…..
