Chapter 39
Bella walked home in the dawning sun, her pale cheeks flushed pink with the exaltation of the night. The city was still asleep, its people huddled down in little pallets of warmth as the new day rose, orange and pink behind the towering city walls. Houses, silhouetted in black, made shadows on the road, turning the worn, packed earth cool and damp. Bella felt the chill of it on her toes as she walked slowly down the path, her body heavy with tiredness. She felt the night's struggle, her legs as stiff as steel as she dragged herself along, though her eyes were bright and alert as she glanced back at the two strange men who trailed her.
She had left Emmett at the cottage. Rosalie yet slept— a well-deserved slumber after her night of toil— and he had been so enraptured by the swaddled, pink newcomer that Bella did not have the heart to tear him away. She had kissed the baby, pressing her lips to the warm and downy cheek, and left her with him when she took her leave. Emmett hardly noticed her departure— had glanced just long enough to make sure his soldiers followed her to the road, seeing her safely back to the palace. Once she and her guard had cleared the fence, Bella had peered back at the window to see Emmett bent low, his lips moving unheard in the distance between them.
She held that picture in her mind— the man, tall and rapt, with the small girl in the crook of his arm, both faces tanned brilliant orange in the light of the new day. She held it close as she lumbered down the path, and she kept it still when she came upon the great portcullis, its black bars rough and cold with dew.
"Hullo!" called the sentry at her back. "Raise the gate!"
The noise was jarring. Clinking chains turned to rattling steel, which clanged against immovable stone as it rose, inch by inch, to disappear into the great arch above. Bella watched it as it went— watched the great spikes disappear into shadow, the warm, red stone stained grey from centuries of scraping steel. The grooves in the rock were smooth, long, semi-circles that housed the great, round bars, burrowed so deep into the ground that there was not a hope on Earth of forcing one's way through. Bella blinked up at it, watching as the final edge of a dusty, dirty spike disappeared, before she felt a gentle hand on her elbow.
"You must be tired," remarked the sentry, and Bella allowed herself to be led into the yard. "Come along, now. The King will be waiting."
Almost numb with exhaustion, Bella slowly and carefully picked her way through the grass towards the castle doors. She heard the portcullis being lowered again, the rhythmic clinking of gears and chains setting her pace, and though she felt suddenly cold when the breeze picked up, it was not long until she stood before the tall, polished wood of the great front door. The wood was so thick that even her strongest knock would have made no sound within, and she glanced curiously at the sentry behind her, her fingers fidgeting nervously.
The soldier said nothing but gestured quietly to a long, silver chain that hung to the left.
"The bell," he explained when Bella did not take it. "To call the footman."
Somewhat shame-faced, Bella reached out and gave it a tug, feeling a surprising weight on the other end. In the castle, beyond the thick, impenetrable walls, Bella heard the faint bong of a large, sonorous bell. It echoed in the quiet and Bella cringed, though neither of her guards seemed at all perturbed by the sound. They were as stoic as stone, eyes darting across the grounds and the walls for any signs of danger, and though Bella would have liked nothing more than to sit on the low garden wall that lined the path, she held herself resolutely upright.
They waited together in silence. First one minute, then two, and Bella, feeling more exhausted by the second, felt her eyes drift closed. She felt the heaviness in her limbs as if they were made of lead, and try though she might, she could not help the slump in her shoulders when she leaned her weight against the wall. The breeze kept her wakeful, though her eyes remained closed, and she longed for her bed, with her furs and her pillows. With each cool gust of wind that blew up the hem and sleeves of her gown, Bella felt goosebumps erupt on her arms and legs and shivers course down the length of her spine. Neither soldier said a word— they kept their eyes steadfastly on the grounds and the walls, and though they'd been awake just as long as she, there were no signs at all that either man grew weary. They did not shiver— not in their thick, golden armour— and their hands did not tremble on their spears like hers did on the chain.
In the end, she did not know how long she stood, for when the metal latch inside the castle clunked and the hinges began to move, she felt herself jolted back to awareness with a quick start. A waft of warm, fragrant air washed over her as the castle doors creaked open. It smelled of rose oil, the preferred fragrance used in lamps and cisterns, with a hint of yeast and vanilla from the basement kitchens. It made her mouth water as she stepped eagerly over the threshold, coming face-to-face with a young footman who eyed her with mild astonishment.
"My Lady," he bowed, stepping aside to let her through. "I'm sorry for the delay…"
"I daresay I woke you," she said at once, an apologetic grimace on her lips. "I've returned rather late…"
"Not at all," said the footman, waving her inside. Her guards, their task accomplished, excused themselves with a quiet bow as the door fell shut. Bella barely had time to wave them off before the door was bolted fast. "Not at all, My Lady… the maids have been up for hours, cleaning hearths and preparing breakfast, and all of the footmen rise with the sun."
"Every day?" she queried, smoothing down her tangled braid. The man grinned at her. "Even on holidays?"
"Perhaps not," said the man slowly, "but on working days, we rise."
Bella breathed a sigh. When she stretched, arching her back, she heard the telltale pop of bones.
"I am not used to such late nights," she said by way of an explanation. "There's been…"
When she trailed off, yawning, the footman finished for her.
"A baby," he said, nodding. "Marta told us."
"Correct," said Bella with a grin. "A very pretty baby."
"A girl, then?" asked the footman.
"Yes," agreed Bella. "A fine, lovely girl…"
"Praise be."
Bella, feeling rather awkward, said nothing when the man bowed again, wondering if he bowed to the Gods, or to her. She turned quickly away, her face mottled with embarrassment, before the man could see.
"To bed, I think." She said behind her hand. "Is Alice still asleep?"
"I believe so."
"Good." Bella glanced towards the hallway, which would lead her to the tower steps. "Good…"
The footman cleared his throat and Bella paused, looking askance. The footman watched her, his eyes alight with some unidentifiable passion, before he spoke again.
"His Majesty," began the lad, his voice cracking. "His Majesty…"
"Edward?"
It was the boy's turn to blush.
"Yes, ma'am. Just so… His Majesty has asked for you to come to him upon your return."
Bella, mind still lingering on the warmth and solitude of her tower room, glanced instead towards the great, grand staircase that led to the upper levels of the castle proper. The Queen's Tower had its own entrance in a guarded antechamber off of the Council Rooms, and though Bella sometimes found herself turned around when she went exploring in the great, sprawling palace, she knew well enough how to find her way there.
Dreams of her bed dashed at once, she turned again to the footman with a query.
"Where?" she asked. "Where is he?"
"In his rooms, I believe. He would have waited in yours, but felt that it might make your girl nervous to have a strange man lurking."
Alice, undoubtedly asleep in their great, overlarge bed, would indeed have been put off by a man in the antechamber. Bella did not doubt Edward's propriety— he wouldn't have dared to even look at Alice had he stayed— but no matter how disinterested he was, or how noble his intentions, poor Alice wouldn't have slept a wink under the watchful, brooding eye of her great and noble King.
"I will go, then…" said Bella feebly, setting off towards the stairs. "Is he awake?"
"He is," the man replied. "The kitchens sent his breakfast not twenty minutes ago."
"Thank you," said Bella. "I'm sorry… I don't know your name."
"Johan," quipped the boy at once. "Johan, my lady. One of His Grace's minor footmen."
"Thank you," said Bella again, "for your help. If you see Alice, will you let her know where I have gone?"
"Indeed, I will." Johan bowed to her again. "Indeed, My Lady. If you have need of anything…"
"I will ring," Bella said. "Thank you."
The man bowed again.
"Enjoy your day."
He grinned, but said nothing more.
In the dimness of the corridor, Bella walked, her boots clicking noisily against the echoing stone of the staircase. The sun was still low— not yet bright enough to shine through the gallery windows on the upper level— and so the staircase was dark but for the orange glow of flame from the lamps that hung from the bannister. She held fast to that bannister, her fingers sliding against smooth, polished stone, until she reached the third floor on shaking legs, her knees trembling with strain.
The landing was as silent as a tomb. The pair of soldiers, dressed in the familiar gold and red of Kingsguards, neither spoke nor moved as Bella came tripping up the steps. She saw their eyes, shielded behind helmets of thick, golden brass, follow her as she moved, and though she hesitated when she saw the upright spears held in tight, wary fists, they made no move to stop her.
When she passed them they bowed, deep, silent, and low. Bella felt her face flush red as she nodded in return, rushing by as fast as she dared into the blackened hallway lined with closed, ornate doors.
Edward had shown her these rooms one afternoon, when the sun had been high and the day, warm. She recalled how they had traipsed from room to room, each as glorious as the last, filled with fine furniture, delicate window dressings, and polished, wooden floors. For Edward, who had lived here his entire life, it was simply a house. He had chuckled at her abject delight, and had laughed outright when she'd run reverent fingers over the delicate tatted lace and woodwork. For Bella, who came from a world of prefabricated, pressboard furniture and mass production, it had felt like a step back in time. Curtains embellished with tiny, pearlescent beads and cushions sparkling with gems as small as seeds made her gasp with delight so often that Edward, heartily amused, had promised her an entire Kingdom of such trinkets if only she'd always be so happy.
Bella rushed past these rooms now in a blur, her skirt swishing against doors and walls. She moved by the glow of oil lamps alone, each splashing a circle of warm, feeble light on the cold, stone floor, until she reached the very last door at the end of the long corridor, which was just as steadfastly closed as all the others. It was imposing, so tall and grand compared to all the others, and when she reached up with timid fingers to tap against the wood, she felt almost like a child.
"Enter," came a deep, brusque voice from within. Bella felt her belly erupt in butterflies at the sound. When she did not move, hesitating still as she reached for the latch, she heard his voice call out again, this time louder, and more curt.
"Come in!"
With quiet, gentle steps, Bella crossed the threshold of the door on tiptoe. His door did not squeak like the one outside, and though she still wore the hard-soled boots she'd been wearing the day before, she moved as quietly as a mouse into the bright, outer chamber. She saw him at once, the red of his hair flaming in the budding light from the window where he sat hunched over his desk with a pen in one hand and a buttered roll in the other.
When she did not speak he looked up in confusion, his irritation dying at once when he laid eyes on her. His pen fell forgotten to the table, blotting the page he was working on, and he sat his meager breakfast on a china plate that lay precariously close to the edge of the deep windowsill.
"You've returned," he smiled, and at once, she came to meet him. He opened his arms to her, as he so often did now that their engagement had been announced, and she felt her weariness increase tenfold when she was wrapped in the warmth of his embrace.
"I have," she sighed, feeling his chin atop her head. "I'm told you asked for me?"
"Over and over again," he laughed, pulling back to take a good look at her. "I always long for you…"
Bella, choosing to ignore the faint flush on her face, looked up with a grin.
"It's a girl," she said simply, and his smile only grew. "A fine, healthy girl."
"Praise be," said Edward. "Praise be… is Rosalie well?"
"Quite."
"Does the baby favour her mother?"
"She's pretty as a picture, if that's what you mean," chortled Bella, allowing him to lead her to the sofa by the fire. "She has the finest little fingers and the bluest eyes…"
"Her mother's eyes?"
"Too early to tell," said Bella with a laugh. "She is round and pink, and though Rose's hair is golden, the baby's is as dark as a midnight sky."
Edward only grinned.
"I am happy for her," he said with a satisfied sigh. "To have a son is a blessing, but a daughter is a gift."
"A gift?"
"Always," returned Edward. "I've no sisters of my own, but that was neither my mother's choice nor her will."
"Did she want girls?"
"Don't all mothers want girls?" Edward returned, his eyebrow raised in question. Bella felt her face flush red. "Someone to whom they might pass on their wisdom and learning?"
"I wouldn't know," she said delicately. "In case you've forgotten… I've no children whatsoever, be they girls or boys."
Edward laughed again, his humour and good nature rushing back in an instant. Bella felt his impulsive squeeze, the press of lips against her cheek, and she sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. When Edward spoke again it was in a whisper, almost too quiet for her to hear, even in the soft hush.
"Not yet, Bella," he said. "Not yet… but you will. Someday."
"Someday," Bella said wistfully. She recalled that delicious, warm weight in her arms, the way the baby seemed to fit there, just as if she had been made to lay in that very spot. Bella longed to feel that warmth again, to stroke a soft, new cheek or kiss a downy head…
"Someday," she said again, "but not this day."
"Perhaps not," he agreed. "But all the same… I am happy for Rosalie, and for Finn."
"And for Emmett," Bella put in wryly. "When I left, he had eyes for no one else."
Edward grinned.
"It won't be long now," said Edward. "Truth be told, I've been expecting it."
"Expecting what?"
"His request," Edward replied. "He's wanted her since the moment she arrived, I'm almost sure of it."
"What would he need to request?"
Edward kissed her.
"Her hand," said Edward gently. "In marriage."
"Marriage?"
"I expect so, yes…"
"Who would he ask?"
"Rose," said Edward quickly. "And me."
"You?"
"Aye." He leaned back in his seat. "It is one of my more uncommon duties."
Bella frowned, saying nothing.
"When a woman has no father, no brothers, and no mother, the King is expected to fill in," he said. "It's quite rare, but it has happened."
"Fill in?" Bella queried. "As what?"
Edward shrugged.
"As… mediary, I suppose," he said slowly.
"Wait… you're the dad?" Bella felt laughter bubbling up in her throat. "Rosalie's dad?"
Edward, catching the teasing in her voice, poked her side in the very spot he knew was most ticklish. As expected, Bella giggled and squirmed, slapping his hand away when he went in for another. She scooted further down the sofa before he caught her up once more, offering a conciliatory squeeze that she grudgingly accepted.
"In essence, yes," he responded. "Strange though it is. Emmett will ask me before he asks her… without permission, the union is not lawful."
"Would you ever say no?"
Bella saw a solemnity settle over him at once and his voice went sober and soft.
"Not unless I had a very good reason," he replied. "I've not had to deny anyone yet, though precious few have come forward with the request. It is a rare thing for a King to deny a match, and I pray that I will never have to, should both parties desire it."
Bella fell silent, stifling a yawn. Drawn in by the warmth of him, she curled her feet beneath her legs on the sofa and leaned heavily, letting him settle her comfortably against his side. They sat like that for a moment, his fingers trailing over her shoulders, and though she had a hundred different things she would like to say, she felt them all die away as she closed her eyes. Edward did not speak— he only continued his lazy patterns on her arm— and it lulled her into a light, dozy sleep before she felt him shift beneath her.
"You must be exhausted," he said gently, his lips at her ear. "Come, sweetheart. A couch is no place to sleep. To bed with you, now."
Bella, feeling an ache deep in her bones, did not offer so much as a peep of protest.
"There will be plenty of time to talk when you're rested," he continued. "Come. The bed is warm, and the sheets are fresh."
Bella laughed.
"Fresh or not, they are welcome," she replied, cracking her eyes open again. "Thank you, Edward…"
"I've done nothing," he responded at once. He helped her to her feet and together, they walked towards the bedchamber. "Nothing at all…"
When they reached the large four-poster bed, Bella pulled down the sheets with clumsy fingers. She nearly fell onto the mattress, feeling the softness of feathers beneath her skirts, and reached down to unlace the knots on her boots. Edward knelt before her, nudging her fingers out of the way to make quick work of them, and when he slid each foot from its sheath she sighed, wiggling her stocking feet in relief. She slid herself beneath the bedclothes, the heavy, warm weight settling easily on her shoulders, and she felt a wave of such potent sleepiness that she barely had time to thank him.
"Sleep, now," Edward said, laughing as she fought to keep her eyes open. "Sleep, and take your rest…"
But before he could go, Bella caught up his hand.
"Edward?"
"What is it?" He knelt again by the edge of the bed. "What is it, Bella?"
She felt a tightness in her throat that had nothing to do with sorrow.
"Do you think…"
"Do I think what?"
She felt that ache again— that deep and powerful fist that gripped her heart like a vice— and she longed to know whether he felt the same. The question tumbled out like water over stone, slick and smooth.
"Do you think that you would ever want a daughter?"
Edward's answering kiss was more than enough.
"I will love whatever the gods see fit to send us," he replied, his sweet breath washing over her face, "be it one son or twenty daughters."
Bella snorted indelicately.
"I'll settle for just one," she yawned, her eyes drifting closed. "Lord only knows what we'd do with twenty."
When Bella woke it was with the suddenness of a lightning storm, all crackles and bangs and starts. A fist on the door thrummed an anxious rhythm. Murmured voices in the antechamber rose like chittering birds. A groan, irritated and stupid with sleep, made the bed shift and shudder and Bella, eyes snapping open in the space of an instant, felt herself at once glaringly awake and dreadfully, terribly tired.
"Hush, Bella," came Edward's gruff voice. His face, pale with sleep, was creased from the pillow. "Hush… go back to bed."
But Bella, rubbing a clumsy hand over her eyes, sat up beneath the covers.
It was high afternoon, Bella saw, and the sun glared through the curtains of the western window of the bedroom. The room was still dim— Edward had pulled the shades and dampened the fire as she slept, and, in a moment of apparent weakness, had succumbed to sleep himself. She watched as he donned his sandals, ignoring the persistent knocking at the door once more, and though she drew the covers up to her chin, it did nothing to hide her from the wide-eyed boy who stood quivering on the other side. The page, Roberto, held his hat in his hands, his fingers wringing the fabric in an anxious display.
"Beg pardon, Your Grace…"
"No matter," Edward grumbled. "What is it?"
"I…"
"Yes?"
"My Lord…"
Irritation rising like a snake, Bella saw the briefest hint of anger cross his face before he snapped again.
"Speak, boy," he commanded at once. The child trembled. "Speak, and tell me why we are disturbed."
The boy, looking almost tearful, spared Bella the most fleeting of glances before he ducked his head, his little voice muffled.
"It is the Guard," he squeaked, and at once Edward bristled. "The Guard has called for you."
"Which guard?"
"The Kingsguard," replied the boy.
"For what purpose?"
"I do not know."
Edward sighed.
"Thank you."
"My King…" The child bowed thrice. "My Lady…"
Edward shut the door again, leaning his forehead heavily against the wood.
"I'm sorry he woke you," he said after a long pause. "You should go back to sleep… it is only afternoon."
But Bella, more awake now than she had any right to be, simply shook her head.
"Sleep will keep," she said, swinging herself out of the bed. The ties of her dress, loosened by her slumber, hung limp at her sides. "It will make tonight all the sweeter."
Edward chuckled.
"I must leave you," he said mournfully. "I've no idea what's happened, but something must have for them to call me hence…"
"Then I will go with you," said Bella, resolute. "If you'll give me time enough to fix my hair and fasten this dress…"
Edward, saying nothing in reply, simply watched her as she tightened the buttons and ties of her gown. She was far from indecent— there was no hint of ankle, or wrist, or bosom to disgrace her— but she donned her vest, and tightened her skirt before she pulled the shining ribbon from the end of her plait, letting her hair fall loose over her shoulders.
At once, Edward was beside her, his fingers trailing over the tangled, glossy mess.
"You have the most delightful hair," he noted, running his knuckles over the curls. Bella fought a smile. "I can never decide just what colour to call it…"
"Just plain brown," she laughed, gathering it at the base of her neck. She used the ribbon to tie it, keeping it out of her face. Edward, frowning, shook his head in protest, taking up a long, tangled piece and holding it up to his face.
"Nothing plain about it," he refuted, and Bella watched as he examined the curl in the chink of light from the window. "Brown it might be, but black, and yellow, and red too…"
Bella blushed, taking the piece back and twining it gently around the rest of the bunch. Edward let it go without protest, though his hand remained outstretched, as if in query. They stood like that, each examining the other, until another knock sounded at the door and Edward, flashing with annoyance, turned to fling the door open.
"What?" he barked, addressing the golden soldier with growing irritation. "Can I not take five minutes to don my tunic?"
The man ducked his head in apology.
"My King, there is great need…"
Bella seized his hand.
"Great need?" Edward answered, raising a brow. "From whom?"
"The guards, My King…"
"Which guards?"
"The city watch."
Edward froze, his head cocked.
"Is there violence?"
"No, My King."
"Danger?"
The man hesitated. At once, Bella felt Edward bristle, and she gave his fingers a sharp and poignant squeeze.
"We know not," said the guard slowly. "I only know what I've been told…"
"And what have you been told?"
"That there is a man," said the soldier, and Bella felt him freeze. "A strange man, with a strange accent, come to demand an audience with the King."
"I do not answer demands," said Edward lowly, "most especially not like this."
The soldier hedged again.
"It is best if you see for yourself," he said finally, and Bella slipped her feet into her sandals. "It is best if you… come."
Together, hand in hand, Edward and Bella followed the sentry out of the antechamber and through the long, dim hallway with its closed wooden doors and tall, vaulted ceilings. They said not a word, walking silently through the corridor, and descended the staircase in quiet anticipation until they reached the doors to the throne room.
Outside, Bella blinked in surprise at the retinue of guards, soldiers, and footmen who were assembled, all engaged in agitated conversation that ceased the instant they saw their monarch. They bowed in tandem, as if each was moved by marionette strings, and when they rose back up to their full height, the footmen scattered and the guards took up their arms.
It was one man, older than the rest, who took the first step forward.
"Ren," Edward said with a nod. The man bowed again. "What is this about?"
The men bristled, but one look from the soldier kept them all silent.
"A man, Your Grace," replied Ren. "A strange man…"
The crowd murmured again.
"Arrived at the gates," he continued. "Demanding to see you."
"Me?"
"Aye."
"For what purpose?"
"He will not say…"
Edward frowned.
"And why was he brought here?"
Titters rose again, like the chatter of little mice, and Ren shot them such a look of venom that even the boldest— a young, dashing lad with a handsome face and stubbled beard— fell silent.
"He is…"
"He is what?"
"I… believe…"
She felt the thrum of anger in him like a shock. At once, she took her hand away from his, distracting him just long enough to loop her arm through the crook of his.
"You believe what?" Edward queried, though he did not take his eyes from her. Concern shone there, liquid and bright, though Bella paid it absolutely no mind.
"I believe that you should see for yourself," said the man. "We will take him to the dungeons at your command, Sire, but I think you will want to hear what he has to say."
At once, Edward pursed his lips.
"Then open the doors," he commanded. "Open them wide, and let us see this stranger who makes such demands."
The throne room, strange in its near emptiness, echoed like a cavern. The creak of the doors bounced off of stone walls and high ceilings, in which shone great, glassed skylights to let in the afternoon sun. Beams hit the yellowed floor in great cascades, making the crystalline deposits in the rock shine like glitter, and though the dais where the dual thrones rested was veiled in shadow, the rest of the room gleamed like a great, yellow jewel.
The doors slammed shut behind them, making Bella jump. Two soldiers, Ren and another that Bella did not know, stood sentry at the threshold, their hands clasped tightly on their sharp spears, which were pointed carefully towards the western wall. Bella turned to look where they were directed and gasped out loud when she caught sight of the figure who stood there, his face aglow in yellow light from above as he stared, hard and cold, at the commotion near the door.
At once, Edward took a step forward, putting himself between Bella and the stranger.
"Greetings," he said, though he made no motion to advance further. The man, unmoved, remained utterly still. "Welcome."
The stranger's brow twitched.
"You demand an audience with the King?" Edward said, his voice carrying clear across the room. Bella, heart thumping uncomfortably, watched swirling eddies of dust settle on the crown of the stranger's head. Edward, stepping carefully forward, disturbed the spirals and sent sparkling particles into disarray. "Come forward, where I can see you properly."
At once, though his lip was raised in displeasure, the man obeyed the command. The light on his face dimmed when he stepped into a shadow, and Bella, peering cautiously around Edward's broad shoulder, took a long and careful look.
He was a tall man, dressed in fine black riding clothes edged with a cord of brilliant, but dusty, silver. Fair haired and fair skinned, his cheeks tanned brown where the sun had beaten down upon him, he held his work-worn hands in balled fists at his sides. His face was handsome— a square jaw, narrow nose, and high, sharp cheekbones made him look strong and capable, but the piercing, icy blue of his eyes was hard and wary. He looked like a gentleman— Bella thought that he would not have seemed out of place among the merchants of the west, and she wondered suddenly if this was where he came from.
"King," said the man, breaking the silence in his low, rumbling voice. It made Bella shiver. Edward, frozen and frowning, watched the man with undisguised suspicion.
"Who are you?"
The man did not answer.
"I come with a message," said the man slowly and Bella, unschooled though she was, caught the hint of a strange, yet familiar accent. "I come with a request."
Edward froze, his cheeks flushed.
"And what might that be?" he asked.
The man, suddenly fierce, looked upon them so hotly that Bella felt a pang of sudden nerves, watery and quivering deep in her core. Edward seemed unmoved— the only sign of his displeasure being the way his fingers curled into a tight, white fist at his back. The man did not see this and so did not heed the warning it gave, and spoke sharply in the cool, quiet air.
"I come to request the return of my sister," said the man, and Bella let out an audible gasp. "I come to you to demand her safe passage West, along with that of her child, my nephew."
Bella, feeling shaky and surprised, took an unwilling step away. The man's eyes snapped to her, as cold and sharp as ice, and Edward let out a low rumble of warning as Bella stumbled back.
"You do not speak to her," he growled angrily. "You do not look at her…"
The stranger looked obligingly away, though there was no duck of a chin, no contrition or apology on any line of his face.
"I claim her as my sister, and I claim her as my Queen," said the man imperiously. "Unlawfully taken and unrightfully kept."
"You have no Queen," snapped Edward, enraged. "You, of all people, should know that. I know too well what happens to Queens in your cesspit…"
"I know what happens to Kings, too," said the man slickly, grinning at this provocation. "I know what happens when they plead, and I know what they look like when they die."
The man's eyes flickered, darting to the gilded portrait of the Edward's late parents. Bella saw the brilliance of his gaze, his utter disregard as he studied their regal, strong faces, and when he laughed, low and cold, she saw Edward's fist clench. The man licked his lips, his face twisted in a sneering smile, and Bella felt such a rush of terrible, boiling sorrow that she almost released Edward's hand, which shook with sudden rage.
"You look like her, you know," said the stranger idly. "Your mother. She was pretty… we almost didn't send her back."
The guards by the door, overhearing every word, bristled at once. Edward, white as bone and trembling with rage, reached to his waist for the sword that was not there, his fingers closing on empty air. Bella saw the soldiers advance, their spears poised and ready, but before they could pounce upon the stranger, Bella caught up Ren by the sleeve of his shirt, whispering desperately in his ear.
"Send for Emmett," said Bella at once, and Ren blinked down at her. "Send for him, and send for Rosalie."
The soldier did not move.
"Please." Her whisper was sharp, even over the stranger's cold laughter. "Please… send someone to fetch them."
In the dusky, quiet throne room, Bella watched from a bench along the wall as Edward paced across the floor. The room was silent but for his footsteps, cascading echoes that bounced from brick to brick across the span, empty but for the pair of them, rattled and sore. The sun had dipped behind the mountains, leaving them in an indigo fog that threatened darkness with each passing minute. The air, warm from the heat of day, had grown cold with the setting sun. Edward did not notice the chill— flushed and agitated, he ran angry fingers through his long, untied hair, with eyes of fire sending scalding stares to the oval path he trod. Bella, huddled quietly in her shadowed corner, said nothing, her legs curled to her chest in an effort to stave off her shivers.
The stranger had been taken away. Seized by Ren and his mate, the man's hands had been drawn behind his back in a tight hold before they'd marched him unceremoniously from the room, past all the hissing guards who yet lingered in the hall, to be thrown unceremoniously into a locked council bedroom next to the council hall. He had said nothing as they'd led him out— not one sour word or squeak of protest— but Edward's glowering anger was more than enough to make up for it, his face as hot and furious. Bella watched him, wanting both to comfort and to flee, and though he directed neither an unkind glance or word towards her, she did not know quite what to say.
And so she said nothing, watching his anxious pacing up and down the room, turning heel each time he reached the dais and the door.
Edward let out a huff, making Bella jump, and she got to her feet as gently as she could. Edward caught her movement, his eyes suddenly wide, and froze in place. She swallowed, her throat curiously tight, and he did not miss it, his shoulders slumping as he ran a final hand through his hair, blowing out a long, harsh breath.
"I am frightening you," he said softly, and Bella shook her head at once. "I'm being rather inhospitable."
"You're angry," she replied. "And rightfully so."
"I am furious," he corrected at once. "Furious, and sad, and altogether tired, Bella…"
At once, hearing that weariness deep within him, Bella took a cautious step forward into the halo of dim light filtering from the inky sky above. The torches were not lit— Edward would admit no footman or maid to tend them— and so in those last vestiges of light and day, he let her come to him, resting her soft, smooth cheek against his bare shoulder.
"All will be well," she said gently, stroking a hand down his tense, hardened back. "All will be well, in the end…"
"He saw my mother. He saw her when…"
"I know," whispered Bella. Her own heart, sore and grieving for him, gave a quick throb. "I know. I'm sorry."
"You've nothing to be sorry for…"
"I'm sorry for this hurt," she said at once. "I'm sorry that he's agitated you…"
He sniffed, pulling her a little tighter to him.
"I did not know Rosalie had a brother," he said after a moment. "She never said."
"She has two," Bella recalled. "She told me so in the jungle. Twins, older by a year."
"They do not favour…"
"They have the same eyes," Bella replied. "The same blue eyes…"
"Blue, yes, but as far removed as fire and ice," Edward retorted.
"I think his were warm once, too," said Bella gently. "Ice takes time to harden, and perhaps he's been too long in the cold."
Her words, however kindly meant, were lost on him, for the moment she spoke, she saw that stormcloud descend upon him again.
"I might be inclined to agree, had he not said the things he did," he ground out. Bella felt the tremble of anger just beneath the surface again. "Had he not…"
"Hush, now." Bella shook her head in the gloom. "Hush… it will do you no good."
Edward laughed, sarcastic and seething.
"I am not a forgiving man, Bella," he said finally, after a long, pregnant pause. "I do my best, as leader, but in my heart…"
"You are good," said Bella at once, pressing her fingers to his lips to stop the words. "You are kind."
"To some."
"To all." She pressed her lips to his. "You are a good man, and a kind man, and a fair man…"
"To some."
Bella shook her head.
"He is out of your sight," Bella replied, "and you must put him out of your mind."
"He will want to take her, you know…"
"And he shall not," Bella replied at once. "He absolutely shall not…"
Edward said nothing, but let her stroke the tense muscles in his shoulders and his back until there was a knock on the door, and they pulled quietly apart.
"Gods above," exclaimed Emmett, stopping in the darkness at the threshold of the door. Warm torchlight spilled in from the hall, but stopped short of either Bella or Edward. "Are you in there, Ed?"
"Aye." The sound echoed, and Bella saw how Emmett squinted. "Aye, we're here. Bring a torch, would you?"
At once, Bella saw Emmett swivel around to face the doorway, where he spoke softly to a figure out of sight. In a moment, she saw him brandishing a flaming torch, bringing it into the throne room to light the sconces by the door, casting the room in a soft, flickering glow.
"Better," he said, looking curiously around. "Better… come in, Rose. Sit yourself just there."
And at once, Bella saw the familiar blonde head of her friend peeping cautiously around the corner, eying the darkness with particular distrust.
As Rose entered, her arms laden with her new baby, Bella reached out a hand in welcome. It had been some time since Rosalie had been in the palace, and never before had she been inside the throne room, and she saw Rose's bewildered smile as she took in the magnitude of it all. The stone dais, upon which rested ornate, shadowed thrones, the skylights above that let in naught but starlight. The portraits, hidden in darkness, that showed generations of royal families, and the great, vaulted ceilings, that almost touched the sky.
"Rose," said Bella, and her friend grinned. Bella saw that she was still slow, not yet a full day into new motherhood, and she directed her carefully to a bench along the side.
The men, huddled together in whispered conversation, were inaudible as Bella sat beside her, peeking at the small, wakeful baby in her blankets of white and green.
"I'm sorry to call you out," said Bella, ticking the baby's cheek. She cooed, and Rosalie beamed. "I know you should be resting…"
"The guard sounded serious," said Rose, glancing only briefly at Emmett. "He sounded… worried."
"He should not have," soothed Bella at once. "You are in no danger."
The baby, eyes wide and blue, peered up at the flickering flame of a torch, mesmerized.
"How are you?"
"Very well," said Rose. "Much better than I thought I'd be…"
"And Emmett?"
Blushing, Rose looked up at the man in question, who was listening with furious concern to the words of his King. Bella felt the fluttering of nerves again, but was careful not to show it.
"Very well indeed," said Rose. "He's been a great help."
"I would hope so," chuckled Bella, "seeing as he eats your food."
Rose giggled.
"We've got plenty," she said. "He's kept Finn occupied, and helped me with my chores."
"Good...:"
"Finn is in love," Rose continued. "I know he wanted a brother, but he seems pleased as punch with a sister all the same."
"All boys want a brother," chuckled Bella. The baby began to squirm. "But he can't choose any more than you can."
"We've named her Leila," said Rose. "I wanted to call her Marigold, but her colouring is all wrong."
"Beautiful," said Bella gently. "A lovely name…"
"Old legends say it means night," Rose continued. "Like her hair."
Dried and washed, Bella could see that still, the child's tresses were as black as ink.
"I've one of each, now," Rose laughed. "One fair boy, and one dark girl. Both healthy, and lovely…"
Rose brought her baby to her face, and Bella watched with misty eyes as she kissed the tip of her round, pink nose.
"Rose."
At once, both she and Rosalie turned to face the men. Emmett, all humour and lightheartedness gone, watched the three of them with dark, careful eyes. Edward said nothing, his gaze flickering from Bella to the baby, and when Rose stood, suddenly anxious, she thought she caught a brief flash of worry.
"Do not stress yourself," said Edward at once, shooting Emmett a warning glance. "You sit, now, and listen to what Emmett has to say."
Rose, though her knees shook, did not obey her King. Instead, she passed the baby off to Bella, tucking the green, knitted blanket around her as she did, and stepped towards Emmett with a purpose. Bella saw Emmett lean down to speak to her, his voice soft in the quiet, and when she saw Rosalie's startled face go white, she turned her attention instead to the baby. Leila stared, her eyes as wide as saucers, and she wrapped her little hand around Bella's finger with a tight, strong grip.
Edward, peering over her shoulder at the newborn, did not smile at the cherubic creature. The baby waved a clumsy arm, her fingers brushing Bella's chin, but Edward merely watched her, bringing one finger to touch the crown of her head.
"She is very small," he whispered, pulling his hand away. The baby didn't notice. "She's very… light."
"She's hefty enough," Bella grinned. "She's healthy."
"I don't remember Jasper being so little."
"They always seem smaller when you're small too," returned Bella. "Do you want to hold her?"
"I dare not," Edward replied, though he rested his chin on Bella's shoulder. The baby blinked up, her rosebud lips parting in a yawn, and Bella tucked the blanket more securely around her.
When Rosalie returned, white-faced and shocked, she did not reach out to take the child back.
"My brother," she said blankly, looking between Bella and Edward in astonishment. "Of all the things I'd thought on my way here, that was barely even a consideration."
"Yes," sighed Edward. "Your brother. Come with demands."
Rose bristled.
"I'll not go back," she said at once, and this time she did reach for the baby. Bella settled her carefully, watching the droopy eyelids flutter closed. "I'll not take my children back…"
"No one is asking you to," said Emmett at once, sober and serious. "But he must be given an answer."
"The answer is no!" Rose replied, wheeling around. "Absolutely, positively no!"
"And so we shall tell him," soothed Bella. "So he shall hear."
"Where is he?"
"Locked in a chamber," said Edward. "A guarded chamber."
"Not in a cell?" she asked, astonished. "You do know who he is? Do you know who he serves?"
"I suspect, which is enough," sighed Edward. "I didn't know you had a brother."
"Two," Rosalie said at once. "Although only one would be bold enough to seek me here…"
"This one is bold," said Edward with a grimace. "He would not tell us his name."
"Antonio," said Rose at once. "Toni."
Edward said nothing.
"Shall I fetch him?" he asked. "Shall I send the guard?"
Rosalie, seating herself back on the plush bench, swallowed hard.
"I'll not let him touch me," she warned. "He has no right to…"
"He'll not lay a finger on you, or the child," Edward promised. "Though I'm not sure he knows she's been born."
"I'm not sure he knows she exists," Rose returned. "I certainly never told him."
No one said anything for a long, quiet moment. Edward nodded at the guard by the door and Bella watched him shuffle off, his boots noisy in the dark, warm hallway. Only Bella noticed that Rosalie was trembling, her tremors hidden by the rocking arms that held the baby.
"He will want Finn," said Rose in a whisper, and Bella finally heard the cracking fear in her voice. "He will want to take him back, even if we stay…"
"We?" Edward's voice was sharp.
"Me and Leila," Rose said. "Rojce has no use for a daughter, and hardly any use for me. I can be replaced. Finn, however, is necessary."
"Where is he?"
"Still with the neighbour," Rosalie replied. The baby, squirming, began to fuss. "She's a good woman…"
"Easterners are generous," said Edward placatingly. "They always have been… one woman's child is a child to many."
"He'll want him," Rose repeated. "He'll want my boy…"
"Indeed, Rosalie."
The shock of that voice, so sharp in the dim torchlight, made all four of them start and Bella, wheeling around, caught the glimmer of a wily smile on that thin, handsome face before it was buried. He eyed them each in turn— first Edward, then Bella, and finally, his sister with the baby in her arms, and Emmett, who he sized up with brave indifference.
Bella had never seen Rosalie tremble but she trembled now, her arms tightening reflexively around the small, squalling bundle.
"Another whelp?" spoke the man, his eyebrow raised as the cries rose higher. "Tell me, Rosie… niece or nephew?"
Rosalie said nothing.
"Green…" said the man, eying the blanket. "I'll guess niece. Rojce will be overjoyed, when he hears the news." His words were sarcastic and cruel.
"He won't touch her."
Rose's voice was waspish, stinging like venom in the dark, and as if steeled by some invisible strength, she rose angrily to her feet.
"He'll not touch any of us again."
"I've come to take you home," said the man mildly. "Such is my right, as your kin."
"I have no kin but my own children," spat Rose. "You forfeited that right when you sold me like chattel to that brute."
"That brute," said the man, taking another step forward, "is your lawful husband. You owe him your allegiance."
"I owe him nothing."
"Running like a coward, Rosie?" The man folded his arms, eying his sister askance. "That was never your style…"
"It takes more courage to run than to submit to brutality," said Emmett suddenly, and the man's angry eyes snapped up at once. There was no tenderness in the man's face— no gentle words or brotherly sympathy for the woman he called sister— and what mild civility he had for her died when he glared at Emmett, hot and accusatory.
"I'll take no cheek from you," said the man at once. "You are nothing to me… nothing but my sister's bitch and I assure you— she's had many higher and nobler than you."
"You shut your mouth," growled Rose, and once again, Bella felt the weight of the baby in her arms. She retreated behind the guards, rocking and shushing the squalling babe, as Rosalie advanced on her brother like a viper.
The man, Antonio, only grinned, a flash of white teeth taunting in the dark.
"You're to come home, and you're to bring my nephew," said the man, at his ease. "Rojce has no care for a daughter. You may take her or leave her, as you will…"
"I'll go nowhere."
"You are summoned."
"And summoned I shall remain," Rose spat. "I'll not bring myself, or my children, back into Rojce's den."
"You have no grounds to refuse," said her brother mildly. "Rojce is your husband, and I am your brother…"
"And where is Pietro, might I ask?" Rosalie glanced around the throne room. "If everyone is so eager to have me back, where is our brother?"
For the first time all evening, Bella saw the man's composure flicker.
"It is no concern of mine where that cretin hides," he growled. "He is a coward, as you well know…"
"The only coward I see here is you, Toni," returned Rose. "Running like a dog to do your master's bidding. Tell me… did Rojce pay you to come here, or will he simply reward you with his whore once he's finished with her?"
The slap, sudden and sharp, rang through the air like a gunshot. The baby cried, her wails echoing off of the ceiling and Rosalie recoiled, bringing a startled hand to her cheek.
At once, the man was subdued. Guards, emerging from doors and entrances, descended on him like an army. He fell to the ground. His arms, wrenched painfully behind his back, were bound with ropes. Emmett hollered orders, his face almost puce, and Edward, bone white with seething anger, held his jaw so tight it looked as if his teeth might crack.
Rosalie did not cry— indeed, she did not even call out— but she brought a cool hand to her face, pressing it gently over the reddening flesh where the hand had connected.
"Just the same as always, Toni," she said, shaking her head. Bella, bouncing the crying baby almost frantically, felt her legs begin to tremble. "Just the same as always."
"You always were a stubborn bitch."
"Enough." Edward's voice was sharp and cold. "That is enough. You have shown your incivility, and you will be permitted in my halls no longer."
"Am I to be imprisoned?" guessed the man, glancing briefly towards the western window. "I am to be… locked up?"
"You are to be exiled," said Edward and even Emmett, who looked as if he would strike the man in return, wheeled around in shock. "You will leave my Kingdom, and leave your sister with it, and never again darken my fields or my halls with your presence or your violence."
The man blinked, surprised.
"You're going to send me back?" he asked, and Bella heard the sudden note of fear. "You're going to… return me?"
"My soldiers will drop you at the passage," said Edward coldly. "Where you go and what you do is no business of mine, so long as it takes you beyond the mountains."
"He will kill me," said the man. "Rojce. If I return without his wife and son, he will kill me…"
Edward, stoic and unmoved, stood firm.
"I'll not sacrifice a woman or her children to spare the likes of you." Bella saw Rosalie's small, victorious smile. "I'll not sacrifice any citizen of mine to assuage—"
"She is not a citizen," spat the man. "Perhaps the child…"
He eyed the baby speculatively.
"She is as I say she is," returned Edward. "As you reminded me earlier, I am the King of this realm, and you are not."
The man bared his teeth.
"Those children belong to…"
"Their mother," said Edward at once. "And her alone."
"And what of a father's rights?" demanded the man. "What of a man's right to the children he's created?"
"That right is forfeit!" shouted Edward, his eyes flashing dangerously. "When a child bears the marks of violence, borne to him by that so-called father, he no longer any right to claim that child as kin!"
"He is the heir!" shouted the man, straining against the soldier who held him. "That boy, feeble and pathetic as he is, is the heir to the whole western stronghold!"
"I know it," Edward growled, his face mere inches from the man's. "I know it, and I know it well."
"Then you know what this will mean," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "You know what he will do."
"May the Gods help us," Edward said. "May the Gods help us, but yes, I do."
There was a long pause, heavy with words unsaid, before the man spoke again.
"Then upon your own head, be it," he snapped. "On your own head. I thank the Gods above for this fate I face, for I'd rather be dead in the ground than be party to the devastation Rojce will bring upon you when he hears what you have done."
"I do nothing but what is right," hissed Edward. "I do nothing that any decent man would not…"
"Decency," spat the man, stumbling after the soldiers who pulled him. "That will be your downfall King. Decency serves only those who heed it, and I assure you… the enemy you've just made is anything but decent."
The man was hauled away and Bella, trembling with nerves and victory, swallowed hard as the soldiers left the room. Rosalie, mouth agape, let out a shaking, trembling breath as she sunk back onto the bench, Emmett knelt before her in quiet concern. The baby was still wailing, her cries hearty and high, and Edward, staring at the empty door where the man had disappeared, let his shoulders slump. The white anger turned to ashen exhaustion, and when he turned to her, she met his gaze with a fierce and vibrant pride.
"When they write the histories in years to come," said Edward, his lips at her ear, "I am afraid of what they will say about this night."
Emmett took the child— Bella, tired and sore, passed her on with ease— and she wrapped her arms around Edward so tightly that she heard his huff of breath at her throat.
"They will say you did well," she said, staring over his shoulder at the frightened, pale mother. "They will say that you did right."
And in the darkness, with that budding little family before them, Bella saw the resolve like steel settle into his soul even as the exile's shouts of protest echoed in the yard.
A/N: Thanks for all your love!