Chapter 34

In the echoing council chamber atop her high, cushioned chair, Bella listened in bewildered silence as the table roared with noise.

"We must act now!" boomed Nelsor, his face red with anger. "We must act immediately, Sire, and squash it out once and for all!"

"We know not who!" cried Lorenzo. "We know not where!"

"Some of us," interrupted Nelsor with ire, "have taken precautions! Some of us have started!"

"Your district is half of what mine is!" Lorenzo snapped angrily. "What would you have me do, Nelsor? Interrogate them all?"

"Aye, and more!" cried Nelsor. Edward, with quick and serious worry, snapped his head around to survey the old man. "I've done twice what you have!"

"I will not use cruelty!" protested Lorenzo. "It is not sanctioned!"

"In times of need…"

"Cruelty will never be sanctioned," Edward cut in with curt warning. "I desire to know, Nelsor… what do you mean you interrogated?"

"Ah… just that, My King!" The old man dipped a quick, shaky bow to Edward. "Just as I said!"

"We do not extract, Nelsor," said Ramos sharply and Edward, in a sudden flare of anxiety, turned towards the speaker. "We do not probe!"

"Asking questions is illegal now, is it!?" Nelsor wheeled on Ramos with more fury than Bella might have expected and she flinched, her fingers tightening on the arm of her chair. "It is not lawful to inquire after the safety of my own people?"

"Aye, inquire away!" spat burly Toro. "But do not presume to sway…"

"What do you mean you interrogated?" cut in Edward again. His green eyes, alight with concern, were fixed upon his oldest Councillor. The table fell into a hush when he held up his hand for silence and Nelsor, jowls quivering, slammed his gnarled hand upon the table.

"I mean I asked questions and my people answered!" he shouted. "I mean that I inquired after the nature of these heinous and dangerous rumours, and my people did not disappoint!"

"Did not disappoint?" Edward demanded. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that they answered me!" Nelsor slammed his hand down again and Bella, startled by the noise, jumped back. "I mean just what I say, Sire!"

"Torture is not sanctioned!" cried Lorenzo, and the table erupted once more.

"I do not torture, you sodden fool! When have you ever heard of torture in the north!?"

"Sire, I beg for reason!"

"Nelsor, sit down!"

"We northerners are not like you! My people do not live in squalor!"

"Nelsor, enough!"

"I do what is right for my people!"

"You lazy fool!"

"Order!"

"We are tough!"

"Oh please!"

"We are hardy!"

"Order!"

"We are…"

"ENOUGH!"

The shout, so close to Bella's ear, made her gasp in sudden surprise. Edward, his cheeks red and his eyes bright, stared down so forcibly at the squabbling men that they each fell silent in turn, though their faces remained bright with anger.

"That is enough." The words were low and gravelly. "You forget yourselves, gentlemen."

He glanced at Bella, who looked quickly away. The men, trained on him, followed his gaze to her and one by one, without a word, they took their seats and sighed, looking shameful.

"Such goings on," Edward said lowly. "I declare… I've never heard the like."

"We cannot sanction torture, My Lord," said Lorenzo in low, careful tones. Bella almost heard the collective groan around the table. "We cannot sanction… unfavourable techniques."

"There was no torture!" growled Nelsor, incensed. "Not so much as a hint of it!"

"Then how did you get them to speak!?"

"I asked and they complied!" replied Nelsor. "Unlike yours, Lorenzo, my district recognizes its leader when they see him."

Lorenzo's face went pale and Bella, feeling a sudden electric pulse, saw the latter rise up from his seat.

"I do not reign like a tyrant," spat Lorenzo, "and I do not rule in anger!"

"Anger?" Nelsor replied, so shocked that he laughed. "Anger, Lorenzo? When have you ever seen me angry?"

Lorenzo blinked at him with a scowl.

"You insult this council when you suggest supremacy," said Lorenzo. "What makes your district better than any of the others?"

Nelsor said nothing.

"You are not," he continued angrily. "Yours is no better than mine, or any other's."

"I didn't say it was."

"You didn't have to."

"Enough." Edward held up his hand again and Lorenzo, looking mutinous and unusually prideful, sat down with some difficulty. Edward waited until the noise had died again before he continued.

"This talk is neither productive nor helpful," said Edward with a stern mask of reproach. His councillors wisely said nothing. "This kind of discourse does not help us solve the problem at hand…"

"Forgive me, Sire, but there would be no problem if some of us would only try!" said Nelsor. "If we would only just ask…"

"Have you any idea the problems we face in the east?" demanded Lorenzo with heated fury. "Have you the slightest inkling?"

"Oh, and the north is peanuts, is it!?" Nelsor's colour rose again. "All sunshine and rainbows?"

"I've got over two thousand people in my district alone!" snapped Lorenzo. "Two thousand people, some piled so densely atop one another that there is hardly room to breathe, much less live…"

"Aye, and I've got hundreds of my own!" Nelsor banged his stick on the floor. "Hundreds of fishermen, and hundreds of wives, and acres upon acres of land to care for…"

"The north is not the city!" cried Lorenzo in exasperation. "The north is not the town!"

"No, and praise the Gods for that!" Nelsor threw himself back in his seat with a growl. "Praise every God I know, for this politicking will be the end of me!"

Lorenzo, white-lipped and surly, fought back a snarl.

"Sit down, both of you." Both men, half-risen from their seats, obeyed at once. Nelsor's breathing was heavy and his face was still an alarming shade of puce, and Bella felt a sudden pang of worry for the old man.

Edward waited for calm before he continued on.

"Tell me once and for all so we can be done with it, Nelsor," he sighed. "What do you mean when you say you interrogated?"

The murmur around the table made Bella frown. The word seemed curiously provocative.

"Just this, Sire… I asked, and my people told."

Lorenzo scoffed but was silenced at once by a stern glare from his King.

"And you obtained this information lawfully?"

"Of course."

"Was anyone resistant?"

"No more than usual, sire," said Nelsor. "In the north," he glared pointedly at Lorenzo, "the people still have some respect for their leaders."

The table rumbled unpleasantly but Edward, finally losing his patience, let out an irritated growl.

"Enough!" he hissed for what Bella knew to be the final time. His face was mottled, now—pale and blotchy with rising heat—and the men fell silent at once with only slight consternation, each looking askance at the table, or his plate, or the door.

"Then, if there are no further objections, we will move on."

The table was brimming with unspoken commentary—Bella knew it easily, and she knew it well—but not one of the men dared to speak. Edward sipped from his goblet of wine—a move which Bella knew would put an end to the subject—and the men followed suit before they turned to their King with guarded inquiry.

"Now then," said Edward, glancing only momentarily at Bella. His face was tired—drawn, pale, and coarse with stubble—and he looked so apologetic that she had to look away, blushing.

"Are there any other concerns to bring forth?" asked Edward. "Any other concerns that are not about the spy?"

The table rumbled for a moment, though no one raised a hand.

The spy, Bella thought resentfully. What a trying and tedious conundrum.

Since the day Bella had left the dungeon for the final time two weeks ago, there had been neither word nor clue to be told about the supposed spy in the castle keep. The prisoner had gone silent. The castle had been searched. Word had gotten out, though Bella knew not how, and though it had started in the towns, a plague of suspicion and worry had quickly run its course through the entirety of the city before moving on to the farms and the fisheries. Fantastical stories had reached all different corners of the realm, each as uncertain and implausible as the next.

"The spy is a maid," one would say, "lurking in the Lady's chambers. She sneaks in while the Lady sleeps. She listens at tapestries and darkened doorways when the Lady meets with the King…"

No," posited another, "the spy is a soldier. He slips notes to the prisoner and speaks with him in tongues when the other guards sleep. He lives in the East, and he cajoles with our strange neighbours over yonder!"

"Nay, fool, he is of the West! He is a western soldier, come back on the heels of the Lady, when she escaped the demons at Terosankta!"

"She is a vagrant… a woman who sleeps in the dungeon corridor!"

"It is a boy!"

"A girl!"

"My foe!"

"A ghost!"

So many suspects uncovered and yet, not one of them with any particular significance.

A fortnight's worth of rumours had driven Bella mad with curiosity and worry. The very same had transformed Edward into a force of unrelenting inquiry.

The soldiers, rounded up and interviewed, had, over the past two weeks, been re-vetted and screened. Men were interrogated by Emmett and the King. Families and backgrounds were discovered and searched. Footmen, followed by butlers, cooks, and housekeepers, had been called before the King and Council to give their testimony, all of which had revealed nothing. Pageboys had quivered before the stern and solemn eye of their ruler. Maids—some as young as eleven or twelve—had been brought by Marta to give their stories. Parents of children in the castle's retinue were visited in their homes. The orphanage where Alice had spent the last year of her life was scoured and its occupants questioned.

Not a clue had been uncovered, yet not one story had gone untold.

"It's no use fretting, Bella," Edward had sighed one night by the fire as he watched her pace anxiously from the hearth to the window. "There is nothing else to do."

"It's mad!" she'd cried angrily. "Absolutely mad!"

"Put it out of your head, or you will be the one who is driven mad," he'd chided. "There is nothing more for us to do. We are overturning every stone we can."

And still, nothing.

The men remained silent. Edward, biting back his displeasure, turned silently towards Ramos, who was sitting as proud as a puffin, looking as if he might burst.

"What is it, Ramos?" sighed Edward. The addressee started and gave a short nod. "You look askance."

"I dare not, my King."

"Please, dare it," retorted Edward dryly. "I desire to move on."

"Alas…"

"You have my permission to speak," sighed the King. "Even if you breach protocol."

The table bristled with interest. Bella knew that once the wine had been drunk, a subject was considered closed to further discussion…

"Should we be interrogating too, My Lord?" asked Ramos gently. "Should the rest of us, like Nelsor, be questioning our people?"

Edward blew out a breath.

"If there is suspicion…"

"Of course, My Lord," cut in Arman, the sweet-faced, gentle Councillor from Honeybee Point in the east. "Of course if we suspect… but what if we do not?"

Edward glanced carefully around the table.

"That is your decision," he said finally after a long moment of silence. "I will not tell you how to treat your own people…"

"Is there any news?" asked Arman. "Any news at all that might direct us?"

"You know all," Edward said flatly. "You know as much as I. Emmett, bless him, prepared the report for your perusal, and you know the details as well as I do."

"Aye, aye…" Arman fell silent with a frown on his face. "Aye, Sire."

"But what of the woman?" demanded another councilman, Bralto. "That is the part which makes little sense."

"I agree." Rohailo, who had thus far been silent, spoke up at last. "A mole in the dungeon would be easily explained… a wayward maid, perhaps, out to clean the cells, or a soldier with a grudge."

"The report said…"

"Aye, Lorenzo, I know what the report said," sighed Rohailo. "All maids and guards vetted and accounted for. I know…"

"The castle proper seems clear," Edward agreed. "So I do not know…"

"It is the woman." Rohailo reiterated Bralto's comment. "It is their knowledge of her that baffles."

"People talk," said Edward. "And those who do have plenty to say. She arrived in the east with more fanfare than strictly necessary."

"Did we explain it?" asked Rohailo. "Did we give a reason for her stately arrival?"

"She is a friend of the Lady's," said Lorenzo at once with a deferent little bow to Bella. She continued in her silence. "And so is said to deserve such aplomb."

"But there must be some bitterness," said Rohailo reasonably. "For a stranger to have such a royal retinue when a grounded and rooted citizen of the Eastern City isn't given half so much?"

"My people are kind," said Lorenzo with a slight bristle. "We are understanding…"

Rohailo's dark and handsome face scowled at once. He glanced at Edward instead, who watched with a dark impassiveness that made him seem utterly foreboding.

"You understand my mind, sire?" he asked. The King gave a curt nod. "You understand what I'm asking?"

"You're asking of jealousy," said Edward. "You're asking if an easterner might have… spoken out."

"Aye, sire." Rohailo sat back to avoid Lorenzo's piercing glare. "Aye, exactly."

"Not a chance," hissed Lorenzo. "Not a chance in the world…"

"There is always a chance," said Edward sharply and Lorenzo, looking astonished, turned around with reddened cheeks. "There is always a chance of betrayal, no matter how much we might wish it otherwise."

"Sire…"

"Examine your people," Edward said with a sigh. "Rohailo is right. My entire staff and Council were questioned and vetted. Although I prayed that we would not be betrayed, I knew it to be possible."

"Sire…"

Edward held up his hand for peace.

"Follow your leads," said Edward. "Investigate rumours. It might be nothing—in fact, I would venture that the vast majority of what you'll hear will be nothing—but we must be sure."

"Aye, sire…"

"Bring me your findings, in your own time," he finished. "Be they good or ill."

The men raised their goblets, much more readily this time, and Bella watched as each—save Lorenzo, who hesitated—drank readily. Edward watched his councilman, his brows furrowed in annoyance, before the man took the smallest sip of wine, swallowing thickly to force it down.

"Now then." The King stretched his arms and the council, taking his lead, seemed to relax at once. "What other news, My Lords?"

Bella, snatching up her cup from the table, cradled it loosely in her hands as she listened to the other concerns of the Royal Council.

The spy—or lack thereof—had been the top priority for every councillor at the table. The people were frightened of the very possibility—what else had the spy imparted to the enemy, besides a knowledge of the King's private business? The general population did not know about Rosalie—they did not know who she was, or where she had come from—but word had gotten out that the spy knew of the Commander's attachment to her, and her little son. Word had gotten out that the King had subjected his staff and his court to quick and unrelenting questioning, and little pageboys and maids—terrified of the thought of being accused—had gone home for holidays with terrible tales of suspicion and fear.

But, as is the case with any crisis, the world went on with its mundane trials and concerns regardless of any bigger, more serious problems.

Bella listened, trying her best to keep up, as the business of the day was discussed at length.

Arman, the overseer of the honeybees in the east, politely requested more men to harvest the combs. The bees had been fruitful this season, and there was no desire for any honey to go to waste.

Nelsor, praising the King's new boats, wanted an additional day for fish markets in the city, so as not to let their catch spoil before it could reach a table.

The southern watchtower had disciplined two young soldiers for curfew violations. The men would be sent to the city, to muck out the fighting pits as punishment.

The river in the north was high and Bralto wondered if the farms there should not be given bags of sand, in case it breached its banks.

An outbreak of mould along the rocks of the northern coast had destroyed three homes.

There had been five live births in the Farmer's Village that week.

A child had gone missing in the city's west end. He'd been found on a dinghy floating down the river by a group of schoolchildren.

The orphanage needed new fabric for winter clothing.

There was a dispute over cattle in the grasslands.

Was chicken farming legal in the city?

Mightn't it be prudent to cap the price of bread?

Bella listened carefully, taking in as much as she could.

"It is perfectly reasonable for a craftsman to set his own price!" said Bralto. "If a baker cannot set costs, how is he to stay afloat?"

"The poor cannot afford it…"

"That is why the King's coffer is open."

"Aye, but…"

"Is there hunger in my city, Lorenzo?" cut in Edward with concern. "Are your people going without?"

"Not yet, sire, but I fear that they may, should prices continue to rise."

"Then you will send word at once," said Edward. "I'll not let people go hungry on my watch."

"Bakers, too, must earn…"

"Aye, Rohailo." Ramos, the designated scribe for that particular Council session, was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. "Aye. It won't be at their expense…"

"Good, sire…"

Lorenzo nodded.

There was another long pause and Bella, glancing up from her goblet, stared curiously at the King.

"My Lord?"

Hema, soft and gentle, spoke from the far corner.

"Speak up, man." Edward waved him forward. "What is it?"

"I must inquire…"

"Please, do."

"It is nearly spring, Sire."

"Yes…"

"And the Turning will soon be upon us."

The table rumbled and Bella, glancing around with mild curiosity, felt a pique of interest.

"Aye, it will be." Edward spoke with a patient smile. "What of it, sir?"

Hema grinned at him and shook his head.

"There's been no talk of it yet," he ventured, "but I've had questions from more than one source."

"Oh aye? Questions?" the King chuckled to himself. "Of what sort?"

"The people want to know whether there will be a New Year this winter," said Hema and Bella, feeling rather foolish, did not quite understand. "The preparations are usually underway by this time, but there has been no word…"

"No, we've been quite busy," said Edward with a sigh. He glanced over the pert and interested heads of his councilmen. "We've had… plenty to think about."

A murmur of assent went around.

"Still, Sire… the people want to know."

Edward sighed again but this time, Bella saw that he wore a chagrined smile on his face instead of a consternated frown.

"I've no opinion, as you well know," he said diplomatically. "It is not up to the King."

"No," agreed Ramos easily, "but common courtesy would dictate…"

"Aye, aye…" Edward leaned back in his chair. "But as I've said… I've no opinion. What say you, Hema?"

"I vote yes."

"Bralto?"

"Yes, Sire."

"Ramos?"

"Yes."

"Lorenzo?"

"Definitely, sir."

He went around the full length of the table and got a similar response from each, ending with Bella, who frowned.

"What say you, My Lady?" he asked finally, a deep amusement colouring his voice. "Shall we have a King's New Year this winter, or no?"

Bella stared blinkingly at him, her goblet of wine poised at her lips and she shrugged, glancing sheepishly at the table.

"I've no opinion whatsoever," she said delicately. "Whatever the Council decides."

The table laughed.

"Then so be it," said Edward. He drank deeply from his cup, and his councilmen followed suit. "If you decree it so, then there shall be a King's New Year."

"Hear, hear!" The table hooted and Bella felt suddenly shy when Ramos, who was sitting directly opposite her, raised his silver goblet to clink it with hers. He laughed boisterously at her when her face reddened and when he winked, she looked away altogether.

"Methinks, Sire, that you will have to educate the Lady," he chuckled. "We've confused her, I daresay."

"Yes, I quite agree," said Edward. Chairs began to scrape against the floor as the men began to rise. "But it is easily remedied."

"My people, for one, will be glad for the distraction," said Lorenzo piously. "They will be grateful for the change."

"The Easterners always are," replied Edward kindly. "They are… most enthusiastic."

"Yes…" Lorenzo bowed to the King and turned to Bella. "And I hope, My Lady…"

She watched him with curiosity.

"I hope that we might have the pleasure of your company?" he asked politely. "Yours and the King's, of course…"

"Certainly, Lorenzo." Edward dipped his head and Bella, feeling rather foolish, remained still. "You most certainly will have the pleasure of our company. If all is as it was last year, I would not miss your ale for anything in the world!"

Lorenzo, seeming to have forgotten his sour mood from earlier in the meeting, ducked away with a laugh.

Later on in the day, as they walked through the grass of the castle grounds together, Edward put a question to Bella that made her pause.

"Did you make any sense of what the council said?" he asked. They were walking through the gardens, which were overladen with late fruits and vegetables. Three kitchen maids—small, skinny girls with brown freckles and sun-bleached hair, scrambled around them with bushel baskets. Edward grinned as he watched them—they scuttled nervously around them, bowing twice each time they crossed paths, and gawked, open-mouthed and gleeful, at Bella's arm entwined with his.

"Some of it," Bella said lightly. "I understood about the spy."

He breathed a heavy sigh.

"They are worried," said Edward gently, "and perhaps rightly so. But they do grow quite… aggravating."

"Fear drives us all to haste and imprudence," said Bella sagely. "Even the wisest of us."

"Very true," he agreed. "Very true, sweetheart."

Bella bit the inside of her cheek.

"There is nothing more to be done," said Edward after a long pause, "other than what we do already. The entire castle has been vetted. Nelsor, bless him, has undertaken such a rigorous questioning that I've no doubt word will spread, and before long, the culprit will be rooted out."

Bella frowned, her throat suddenly tight. Edward, feeling how her hand tightened on his arm, paused to watch her.

"Do not worry, Bella," he soothed. "You are safe, so long as you are in my city, and your friend will be safe too. She is quite well, Emmett tells me…"

"Emmett," said Bella with a wry smile. "How much does he know about it?"

Edward grinned.

"More than he ought to, I'll say that much," he chuckled. "More than he has any decent right to."

Bella held her tongue. Edward, catching the amusement in her eye, wrapped an arm about her shoulders.

"They both deserve the utmost happiness," he said, so low that the kitchen maid collecting carrots not three feet away could not make it out. "They both deserve the best."

"Yes."

"So if they make each other happy…"

Bella paused, shielding her eyes as she glanced up at him. The waning sun at his back was bright, and she blinked furiously to clear away the spots.

"It matters not to you that she is…"

He waited patiently for her to finish.

"…married?" she concluded lamely. "Or… claimed?"

Edward stared at her, astonished.

"Rosalie?" he queried quickly. "Married?"

They both stopped now, each staring confusedly at the other.

"She's pregnant Edward," Bella pointed out. "She's got a baby in her belly, and it didn't get there on its own…"

It was his turn to flush and he shook his head, looking curious.

"She's renounced him," said Edward easily. "She's declared her union null and void."

"Yes…"

Edward pulled her quickly down the path, away from the littlest maid who had begun to stare.

"And so she is not married," he said softly, once they were out of earshot.

Bella frowned.

"Her children…"

"What of them?"

"They have a father," she pointed out. "A cruel and violent one, but a father nonetheless…"

"A man forfeits his rights to his children when he lays a hand on his family," said Edward at once. "It is written in the Laws of the Nation."

Bella stopped dead.

"So she…"

"She has declared it null, and so it is," said Edward with a shrug. "Perhaps not on parchment, as would have been the custom had she been married here in the Kingdom, but in spirit…"

"Indeed." They left the bower of the garden altogether, walking instead along the wall towards the castle. "Indeed…"

"They are free," said Edward with a smile. "Free as birds, to act as they please…"

"They just met," said Bella dryly. "They hardly know each other."

"Many a happy marriage has come from less," he said. "If that is what they want, then it is their right."

"What of the children?"

"A mother is trusted to choose a good father for her young, should she marry a second time," said Edward. "A man who marries a woman with children does so knowing that her children will become his."

Bella chewed on that for a moment.

"It is not simply husbands and wives who are joined by marriage, Bella," said Edward, and he stopped her in her walking, turning her around to face him. He had a very serious look and Bella noticed it at once, her belly writhing with butterflies.

"It is the making of a family," he said gently. "It is the joining of two families that are already made, as is the case for Rosalie, or the origin of a family that is yet to come. It is a commitment to create beauty together, as one."

"It seems fast," said Bella softly, her mind lingering on her newest friend. "It seems… too quick."

"Love has worked faster miracles than theirs," laughed Edward and Bella, put at ease by his sudden and easy comfort, fell back into stride next to him. "It is mysterious and altogether strange, but we must trust that they will know what's right. Emmett is a good man… if she chooses him, he will do right by her and her children."

"I don't doubt it," she said. Emmett was a good man. "I don't doubt it for a minute."

They walked together in silence for a stretch longer.

"Did you understand all of what the council said?" he continued after they'd walked halfway to the red stone keep. "There was some at the end… I'm not entirely sure you would understand it."

"Not quite," she laughed. "You're not wrong."

"The New Year?"

"Yes."

"It is a celebration," said Edward and he nudged her, soft and tickling, in the ribs with his elbow. She shrank away with a laugh. "It is a… party."

"What kind of party?"

"A… special kind," he hedged softly. "It is a yearly event."

"Is it?"

"It is the anniversary of the coronation," said Edward quickly, "and a celebration of the monarch. It happens at the turning of the seasons… just when winter begins to give way to spring."

"A festival?" she guessed and he grinned, nodding at her.

"Partially," he said. "It is a time of renewal… farmers praise the gods and pray for good spring crops, and the city folk prepare a great feast."

"A feast?"

"All sorts," Edward said with relish. "Breads, fishes, meats, cheeses… fruits from the fields and the coast, honey from the east. A great table, filled to bursting."

Bella's mouth began to water at the thought.

"And it is… customary," continued Edward, "for the King to give a gift."

"A gift?"

"Aye." He shifted his gaze away from her, looking sheepish. "A gift to the people."

"What kind of gift?"

"Whatever is needed," said Edward quietly and Bella, feeling suddenly nervous, felt her heart begin to throb. "Whatever the people require."

"So what do they need?" she asked. He watched her carefully. "What do they want?"

"It's been a tiresome few years, sweetheart," he said. "It's been… a challenge."

Bella thought of his parents—of that King and Queen she would never meet—and felt a pang of sympathy. She thought of Jasper, so desperate to grow up yet still tethered to his golden, sunset youth. She thought of Esme and Carlisle, drawn so far from their home to become like parents to their nephews, and she thought of Edward himself, forced into a role for which he'd been raised, but not entirely prepared.

She squeezed his hand in solidarity, her fingers twined tightly with his own.

"Last year I gave coins," said Edward, grinning at the memory. "I gave each person a golden dollar. There is poverty still, even today, though we've made great strides. People ate more than bread and cheese that day… they had cake, and sweetmeats, and fishes, and duck…"

Bella said nothing.

"But this year, it is not physical poverty that drains us," he sighed. "It is not money that is lacking."

"Then what is it?" she asked. "What do you think they need?"

"They need to know that we are safe," he said. "They need to know that their king is strong."

"They do know it," she said loyally. She certainly knew it. "They'd be fools not to…"

He laughed, wrapping his heavy, strong arm about her shoulders. The sunset air was cool, and she leaned into the warmth with a happy sigh.

"They know that I am new," he said. "They know that I am… untried."

"Untried?" The affront in her voice made it sharp and he glanced down at her in mild surprise. "How in the world are you untried?"

"My father…"

"Was not you," she said quickly. "He was his own man, Edward."

"Be that as it may," he nodded in assent, "there will always be a comparison. The son must always be eclipsed by the father, and so must learn in that shadow until he, himself, is ready to shine. My father's shadow was lost too early, and I fear…"

"There have been younger, stupider Kings than you," said Bella tartly. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I must be hard on myself," replied Edward. "Don't you see? If I'm not, then the door is thrown open for my people to do it."

"They love you."

"Aye, they do. I'm a lucky man."

"They're a lucky people," she said. "You've done as well as can be expected, given the hand you were dealt."

He chuckled at her then, such an unexpected and tired sound that Bella, ramped up by her devout loyalty to her friend, was forced to pause.

"As well as I can do is not quite good enough, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he drew her close again, "that there are certain… expectations put upon me that I have yet to fulfill, though I've had plenty of time."

"You're the King," she said. "What possible expectations could people have for you?"

"I have two jobs, Bella," he said kindly. "Two jobs that I must perform if I'm to be written in the histories as a good and faithful ruler."

Bella waited, her brow furrowed.

"I must rule," he said, ticking off the first item on his finger, "and I must rule well. I must be fair, and just, and lawful…"

"As you are," said Bella at once. "You are those things."

"Yes." He watched her with a curious apprehension. "I am…"

"And so what else?" she asked. "What more could they possibly want from you?"

"A King must secure the line."

He spoke it so quietly that Bella, listening most carefully, almost missed it.

"The line?" she asked in confusion. "What do you…?"

Her eyes went wide and she blinked, feeling heat rush into her face.

"Oh."

Edward looked away, worried and amused all at once.

"Yes, oh," he sighed. "Oh indeed…"

They continued on, Bella digesting this particular bit of information in silence as Edward watched her most carefully for signs of distress.

"I don't mean to be crude," he said finally, looking abashed and rather shame-faced. "It is not only that…"

"So you want to…" The words felt tight and awkward in her throat. "You want to give them… a baby?"

He stopped so suddenly that Bella was tugged back, her arm still wrapped tightly about his. He stared at her in surprise before he barked out a noisy, guttural laugh that made her grin.

"Goodness no, sweetheart." He pulled her close again and chuckled. "Not a baby… no. I'm not so old yet that I need to be worried about that."

Bella's cheeks felt hot with embarrassment.

"Well what then?" She raised an eyebrow in challenging inquiry. "What are you talking about, since clearly I've got it wrong?"

"No, you don't," he said and he shook his head as if to clear it. "It's not… you. I'm trying to tell you something, and I'm doing an absolutely terrible job of it."

Bella, frowning, waited for elaboration.

"What I want to tell you, is that I want to give my people the gift of assurance," he said gently. "I want them to see that their King can fulfill all of his duties, not just the judicial ones."

"I see…"

"Do you?" He wheeled her around with such a sudden and mercurial solemnity that Bella felt jolted. "Do you really, Bella?"

Her words, so quick to rise earlier in the evening, died in her throat.

"I… don't know," she admitted. "I don't…"

"Will you accompany me?" He said finally and Bella felt her breath leave in a rush. "Will you stand beside me in the streets, and be my partner at the table?"

"You… want me?" she asked, feeling so suddenly hot that she ran her chilly fingers over her face. "You want me to go with you?"

"I would have you stand by me," he said, "if you wanted to. I'd not force you, Bella… I'd never force you."

"You want to give the people…"

"I want to give them you," he said finally and Bella felt a quick and sudden understanding settling over her, like a puzzle piece clicking magically into place. "I want to give them hope, and I want them to know that there is a future for our people."

Her heart hammered in her chest. Delight—free and fantastical delight—warred with a terrible, anxious fear. She did not give herself time to analyze it—did not give herself time to acknowledge it—before she spoke again.

"Why?" she blurted and Edward, taken aback, said nothing. "Why do you want… me?"

"Why you?" he repeated with a laugh and before she could collect herself she felt him—arms tight around her back, heart beating beneath her cheek, and lips at her ear. He held her there for a moment before he spoke, his whiskers tickling her face.

"Because you," he whispered, "are exactly what my people need."

She held her breath, feeling a curious fluttering in her breast.

"You are lovely, and kind, and gentle, and true… you are everything and anything I could need, but most important of all—you are exactly what I want."

Bella felt her breath leave in a quick, harsh rush.

When Bella returned to her rooms, lightheaded with the revelations of the evening, she could hardly find it in her to say a word to little Alice.

"Are you sick, Miss Bella?" she asked worriedly. "Are you ill?"

"No, Alice…" She brushed the child away. "Just thoughtful. Thank you for your help."

"Did Council upset you?"

"No, sweetheart…"

"Did they say something about the spy?"

Alice, Bella had learned, was indignant and suspicious about the existence of the mole, and had dedicated herself as private sleuth in the pursuit of that mystery person.

"No, Alice." Bella unpinned her hair, letting it fall over the shoulders of her nightdress. "Nothing of the sort."

"Are you… sad?"

"Hardly," Bella laughed. "I am well, darling. Don't fret over me."

The child surveyed her, hands on hips.

"You don't seem…"

"I've got a lot to think about, that's all," said Bella gently. "Nothing to trouble yourself over. Go and get ready for bed. It's quite late."

The hearth fire, which was the only source of the light in the room, flickered dully in its grate. Bella was huddled up before it, resting in her nightclothes on the plush rug before the flames with her knees drawn up to her chest. Alice, being the helpful little soul that she was, stood behind her and smoothed out the tangles in her long, dark hair, and now watched her with a look akin to worry, as if she thought that Bella, healed though she was, would crumple to bits if she dared to leave the room.

The candle-clock on the wall, which had been lit just at sunset, showed that three hours had since passed and Bella pointed the child to the bedchamber, where the great, blue monstrosity was waiting.

"Go to sleep, Alice," said Bella. "Go and rest. We'll have an early day tomorrow."

Her face lit up with anticipation.

"Is there really to be a festival this year?" she asked again, for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Is there really to be a New Year?"

"Yes, child," laughed Bella. "The King has said so. Now go to sleep."

"There is a gift, you know," she said with relish. "I got a whole golden dollar last year…"

"He told me all about it."

She beamed.

"What will he give this time?" she wondered eagerly. "Perhaps two golden dollars?"

"Go to bed," Bella laughed, waving her away. "I'll not say a thing about it. Go on, now."

The child, bright-eyed and not at all sleepy, scampered off with a grin and a kiss, leaving Bella alone before the dying fire, staring into the bright orange coals at its heart.

Would Alice be disappointed when she saw this year's gift?

She stared down at her trembling hands, clasped around the hem of her white nightdress, and let her forehead rest on her knees. Such a tiring and unexpected day she'd had, and as she stared into the waving, dancing glow of the coals, she felt a rush of exhaustion settling over her like a cloak.

"…you are exactly what I want."

The King's words to her ran a loop through her brain and Bella could not, no matter how she tried, dislodge them from her thinking.

"You are exactly what my people need."

That giddy, terrifying anticipation returned like a sickness and she pressed her hand to her belly, feeling a queer and queasy ache deep within. The feel of his hands at her back had been wonderful, his fingers gripping hers a delight. The heat of his breath, her still-sensitive skin where his whiskers had brushed her cheek, the feel of his lips, soft and gentle on the crown of her head… it bore testimony to the solemnity of his devotion, the seriousness with which he treated his affection for her…

But still… What on earth was she to make of it?

Bella pondered this in the growing darkness, tucking her feet up beneath the skirt of her nightdress when the chill of the cold, stone floor rose up through the rug beneath her. She pressed her eyes into her legs, letting the sting of the pressure ease away the rampant, quarrelsome thoughts that ran through her head until she could bear it no longer and sighed, her fingers tangled in the ends of her long, combed hair.

He had not said it outright. There had been nothing in his words to say the delightful, yet dreadful thing that she'd feared he might… he had not spoken plainly to her, as to do so would have frightened her silly, and yet, she thought that she understood.

But she could not bring herself to decide just what she wanted.

All her life, Bella had been a solitary being. In the beginning, before she knew what love really was, there had been only her and her mother—two girls alone in the great, wide world. She had cared for her mother—had been devoted to her like a puppy to its master—and though that bond had been severed and cut by the cruelty of time, she felt its ragged remnants still. She felt the pain of that separation, the pain of that loss, and it had been that pain, so freshly felt and keenly cut, that had made her so wary, even now, almost a decade and a half later.

Bella had loved her mother with all her heart. She had learned to love her Uncle Charlie in the years that followed. She loved Jake in her own, friendly way, and she loved her Boomer—that great and snuggly dog she'd raised from a puppy. She loved her friends, and she loved her family, but never, in all her life, had Bella felt anything akin to love for a man like Edward, and she had no idea how to make sense of any of it.

He had not said he loved her. He had not said he needed her. He had not said he wanted to marry her…

And yet, Bella was not so dense to miss the implication of his words, and she was not stupid enough to be blind to his intentions.

She felt a stinging behind her eyes that she pushed away with a furious pride, cursing herself for this weakness, this uncertainty.

A knock on the door—loud and sudden—made her jump and she leapt to her feet, praying that her eyes had not gone red.

"My Lady?" The guard at her door—a man whose name she had not yet learned—spoke through the wood. "My Lady, a visitor."

"Come in," she called and to her fury, her voice was shaking. She cleared her throat and spoke again. "Come in, please…"

The door latched loosened and she heard the creak of the hinges as the door swung in. The landing outside, lit by a bright torch in the sconce by the window, let a pool of yellow light spill over the floor and cast a halo around her visitor, who snuck in as quickly as she could. Bella's shoulders fell when she saw who it was and all at once, she was enveloped in a tight, eager hug.

"Good evening, sweetheart," said Esme with a sigh. "I'm sorry it's so late."

"I'm glad you're come," said Bella, muffled by the older woman's shoulder. "Come and sit."

Esme, pulling back with some concern, surveyed Bella with a keen eye that made her uncomfortable. She turned away before Esme could catch any hint of the tears she'd shed, but Esme, apt as ever, caught on at once.

"Something has upset you," she said and Bella, furious at herself for her weakness, shook her head in defiance.

"Nothing at all." She smiled, thin and pressed, and turned instead towards the sideboard. A plate of cookies was resting there, cool and sticky from her afternoon snack, and she brought it to Esme, pressing one upon her. Esme did not complain. "What brings you by so late?"

"We've only just arrived," said Esme. "Carlisle does his rounds in the city once a month. He's due in the East tomorrow morning, and we thought we'd cut down on tomorrow's business by travelling today. The city gates were hard to get through after dark… Edward had to come and let us in himself."

"Ah…"

"But something has happened, Bella," said Esme sadly. "I see it on your face. Are you ill?"

Dreading another repeat of Alice's frantic questioning, Bella shook her head at once, refusing to give that thought any chance to settle.

"Not a bit," she said truthfully. "I'm very well, Esme."

The other woman stared at her, uncannily still and calm and Bella, feeling rather silly, looked quickly away. They ate together in silence, Bella trying in vain to stoke the fire back to life before the elder spoke again.

"If I tell you what I think, will you tell me if I'm right?"

Bella paused, wide-eyed. Esme took her silence as assent.

"We spoke to Edward on our way up," said Esme, "and he told us of the Council meet."

"Yes." Flames licked up a dry piece of wood and Bella, feeling a flare of heat, brought the poker away from the hearth. "Yes… they spoke of many things."

"Aye," Esme scooted herself to the end of the sofa and Bella, watching her with consternation, sat carefully by her side when she patted the empty seat. Esme's embrace was friendly and warm and despite her misgivings, Bella sunk into it with a sigh. Her head rested just below Esme's chin, her temple against her shoulder, and Esme ran her fingers so soothingly through her smooth hair that Bella, feeling pacified for the moment, let her eyes fall shut.

"He told me what you talked about," said Esme, "and he told me what you said."

"The spy," Bella said, deliberately avoiding the topic. "The spy is still loose…"

"No, not the spy," said Esme. "Don't play false, Bella… it does not suit."

Her cheeks brightened and she sat up, glaring at the table.

"He told me what he asked of you."

"Did he?"

"Yes." Esme squeezed her hand. "And he told me what you said."

"Yes."

Esme smiled and though it was genuine and happy, there was a tinge of concern about the edges.

"You don't seem pleased, sweetheart," said Esme finally and Bella, startled at being so easily found out, wheeled around in surprised. "You don't seem… glad."

"I am glad," Bella said at once. "I was very glad when he asked me…"

"But?"

Bella felt the sting of tears again.

"But nothing," she said, wiping at her cheeks. "There's nothing else to say."

"Oh, I think there is plenty to say."

Bella turned away, biting her cheek so hard that she tasted the metallic tang of blood. This did not stop the sudden rush of fear—that strange and troublesome mix of elation and terror that made her heart throb and her throat feel tight.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Unable to hide her face, Bella felt Esme's strong, eager hands pulling her down at once. Bella went without much fight… felt her face rest on Esme's shoulder, her sore, aching eyes pinched shut. "Oh sweetheart…"

"It's nothing." She dabbed at her face with the sleeve of her gown. "It's just… unexpected."

"Is it?" Esme pulled back with mild astonishment. "Is it so surprising that Edward should feel for you?"

Bella flushed red.

No, she thought, recollecting all the kindnesses and favours he'd shown her. His bed, his care, this bedroom, Alice…

The clues had been before her all the while.

"Hush, darling, don't cry so," begged Esme when Bella, unable to staunch them, had let her tears drip onto the skirt of her nightdress. "I wish you wouldn't cry… is it so very terrible?"

"Terrible?" she asked with watery, quiet astonishment. "No, Esme… not terrible…"

"Then why these tears?" Esme, looking worried and pitying all at once, dabbed gently at her cheeks with a handkerchief. "Why so sad, Bella?"

"I'm not sad…"

"You are sad," she contradicted at once. "I see it clear as day on your face."

The tears came anew.

"I am not sad because of him," said Bella, and for the first time in a long while, she felt an old fissure in her heart break open. "I'm not sad because of what he said, or did…"

"Then what?" Esme held her close and Bella, wishing for a different set of arms altogether, clung like a baby. "What is it, darling? I can't help you if you won't tell me…"

And the truth—that truth she'd held inside since her first arrival on this island—broke its banks like a river in a flood. It poured out of her like water, dripping onto her cheeks, her collar, her lap, and it soaked through Esme's shoulder in a turbulent wave of sorrow.

It was the joining of families, Edward had said. That was what love on this island meant. It was the mingling of bloodlines, the sharing of traditions. It was the sharing of joy, a blessing from the Gods, and it was meant to be shared between families…

But her family, torn and mangled as it was, could never share in her happiness here. They would never know Edward like she did—would never see him, hear him, or feel him like she could—and it hurt her terribly. They would never share in her joy, would never join in her sorrow, would never travel these great unknowns with her, to be her solace and her guide. Her uncle thought her dead—she knew it in her deepest heart and soul—and he would not be thinking of her as she wished he might. He would not think of her smiling, or beautiful, or happy, but lost in the water, dead at the bottom of the sea with the wreckage of a rusted, hollow fuselage. Boomer would wait for her at the door like he always did, but she would not walk through to greet him. Jake would ride that roller coaster at Six Flags without her. They would love her for a while, and remember her even longer before they would put her story to rest, not knowing that there were entire chapter and volumes that they had not read, and would never get the chance to see.

If she accepted Edward—if she took his affection, and his care, and his attention—she would have to give up every bit of hope of returning back home, where her family was waiting without a prayer for her return.

"It's not fair, Esme," she said, hiccupping through her sobs. "It's not fair…"

"I'm sorry, darling," said Esme. Through her tears Bella heard the noise of the bedroom door, and she saw little Alice poke her head through with wide-eyed astonishment. "I'm so very, very sorry…"

"I miss them," she said, and the ache in her heart grew like a weed. "I miss them, and they'll never know…"

"They do know," said Esme at once and Bella felt the sharp sting of fingernails at her back when Esme squeezed her. "Trust me, sweetheart… they do know."

"They can't…"

"If you think, for one second, that they can forget you, you're absolutely mad," she whispered. Bella felt a kiss at her cheek. "There is no way your family will ever forget you."

"If I stay…"

Esme squeezed her even tighter as the sofa dipped down at the opposite end. Bella could not see Alice, but she felt the child's fingers at the small of her back, her little hand rubbing a soothing pattern to try and quell the storm.

"If you stay," said Esme with sniffle, "you will have a family."

Bella hiccupped.

"You will always have a family with us, darling. Always."

Alice kissed her elbow and Bella, despite herself, felt a small, sad smile.

"We can never replace what was lost." Esme pulled back with a watery grin of her own. "We can never be what was lost… but we can be something else—something equal—if you'll let us."

Bella felt a wave of humble and sorrowful gratitude.

"My nephew," continued Esme, "is not a very forward boy." Her laughter rang like bells through the room and Alice, grinning hopefully, ducked her head with a blush. "He will not say it outright, if he thinks it might upset you…"

"Say what?"

"What he needs to say," said Esme with a sigh. "He has held on to his feelings for a long time, darling… since before he ever met you. He's a very sensitive boy…"

Bella said nothing.

"Did Carlisle ever tell you about our firstborn?" asked Esme and Bella, taken aback by the sudden shift, shook her head.

"No…"

"A lovely thing," said Esme and Bella, exhausted and sorrowful though she was, made out the sudden and painful hurt in her eyes. "A lovely girl, Bella."

Bella sniffled.

"We called her Bria," continued Esme. "She was so lively, sweetheart… so happy."

Esme's smile did not reach her eyes this time.

"She lived for an hour," said Esme with sudden sorrow. "Just one hour. She faded so quickly… so suddenly. We didn't know then that she would be the first of many."

Bella heard Alice hiccup, though the girl kept quiet, and Bella, suitably distracted from her own sadness, felt a new ache in her heart.

"Now, don't," said Esme sharply, seeing Bella's renewed tears. "It is an old story, now, and it's been over for many years."

"I'm sorry…"

"Hush." Esme stroked her damp cheek. "I don't tell you this to make you sad, Bella. I tell you to remind you that there is more to family than what you've lost."

Bella frowned at her.

"We lost Bria, and then we lost her brothers too. Some we lost before they were truly formed, others were born and lived, for only a little while, before they faded. We learned slowly, but we figured out, in the end, that there would be no living children for us. There would be no little healer to take up Carlisle's trade. No sons to tend the fields, no daughters to love…"

Esme took a deep, careful breath.

"My nephews are my sons, now," she said gently. "After their mother…"

Bella nodded quickly, refusing to allow Esme to retell that story, too.

"After Elizabeth, I took them as my own. Edward is a man grown, and Jasper is nearly there, but they are both still so young…"

Bella said nothing when Esme trailed off and waited instead in the silence, wiping her wet cheeks on the sleeve of her nightdress. The wrists were soaked through and her nose, running fearfully, was pressed to her handkerchief. Esme watched her piteously, her eyes aglow with sympathy, before she spoke again.

"When you first came to us," she said, "you reminded me of her. You had the same colouring, and you were about the right age."

Bella shivered.

"I'm sorry…"

"No." Esme shook her head and reached out again. Bella, unable to deny her, let Esme take her into another embrace, smoothing down the tangled hair at the base of her neck.

"No," she said again. "It is not a sorrow, Bella… don't you see? You were a blessing to me."

She frowned.

"How so?"

"You were my chance," she said with a small, sad laugh. "My second chance…"

Alice's hand froze on her back.

"You were not my girl… I knew it for myself, and Carlisle repeated it to me many times. You don't know how he infuriated me, Bella… I shouted at him, and when he resisted me, I shouted some more."

Bella smiled, for she could only imagine it.

"But you were still a chance," she said again. "You were my second chance with my baby, grown though you were. I had no idea who you were… had no idea whether you would really need me or not, but for those precious few days when you were so terribly sick, you were like my very own come back to me again. I loved you then, Bella, as I continue to love you now, and I hope that no matter where you are, that you'll know that."

And Bella nodded, wordless, because despite it all, she did.

"You were my second chance," she said again, "and if you let us, we could be your second chance. You will never be Bria and I'll never be your mother, but perhaps, if we try, we can be something entirely our own. We can be a family, Bella."

"A family," she repeated with a coarse, tearful chuckle. "I need a family, Esme…"

"And you have one." Esme kissed her cheek and Bella, feeling a curious warmth that she had not felt in years, let her eyes flutter closed. "You will always have family with me, sweetheart."

Her tears stopped flowing.

"And family," continued Esme, "is not diminished by an addition. It is only grown."

She thought at once of Edward's speech in the garden.

"You can love more than one, in more ways than one," she whispered, pulling away for the final time. "You can love me, and you can love Carlisle, but if you love Edward too, it will not take away from any feelings that came before it."

"But do I love him, Esme?" Bella asked the question with bewildered disbelief. "How will I know if I do?"

Esme simply smiled at her, her face awash with joy.

A/N: Thanks for your patience! My work has picked up (lots of calls for supply teaching), plus I had company last weekend and Canadian Thanksgiving is coming up THIS weekend, so there was (and still are) preparations to be made.

Lots happening in this chapter... I hope you were able to follow along! I've wanted to bring Esme back for a few chapters now, and I decided she would be a good fit for a little heart-to-heart with our leading lady (to help her get her priorities in check). This chapter was started and rewritten a few times (as each previous version dragged on relentlessly into oblivion), and so it took me a little longer than I would have liked to get it finished up.

As always, leave me a review to let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!