Chapter Twenty-Six

Anabelle and I were alone in the library on the evening before my birthday. She no longer looked sickly and tired. She had that glow about her—the glow of a mother—and she was all smiles. I couldn't help but smile softly in her presence, but I knew that the mood would grow considerably more somber as the conversation went along.

She had changed into a more casual gown after supper, as had I, and when we retired to the library, I asked her to join me for a private conversation. She accepted, and there we were. I was going to come clean about all that had happened. As my friend, I felt Anabelle deserved to know, and I preferred that I be the one to tell her. My stomach was an anxious bundle of nerves, and I reached for my glass of wine, taking a generous sip.

"The look on your face tells me that what you are going to tell me is painful," Anabelle said, her face taking on a more serious expression. "It has something to do with your condition the first days I worked for you, doesn't it?"

I nodded. "I take it that you know the basic details of Reaver's deal with The Shadow Court."

"Yes," she confirmed with an incline of her head. She ran her finger against the rim of her teacup. "Reaver divulged those details when I signed my contract with him, but what does it have to do with you, Keira?"

Exhaling heavily, I took my wineglass in both hands, swirling the deep red liquid. "Ever since I encountered The Darkness in Aurora, my mind has been heavy. I thought that eradicating it from the world would have eased my troubles, but I could not live with the decisions I had made—the people I had lost." I gulped deeply, and I drew in a steady breath. "When I condemned my brother to death, I did so hastily—with a heart full of spite and anger. I regret that decision every day of my life."

Anabelle slid her hand across the table to rest on my arm, her eyes full of a sad empathy. "I remember that the people clamored for his death, and so few asked for compassion, forgiveness. It was not-"
"But it was, Anabelle," I said, my throat tightening sharply. "Ultimately, it was my decision. There was more than enough evidence of his crimes to justify sentencing him to his death, and I thought that that fact would bring me comfort...but it doesn't."

She chewed on her lip, looking as if she wanted to say more, but she didn't. She waited for me to continue.

"I felt so alone, even when Reaver and I first married—especially when Reaver and I were first married. It was only business for him. It felt hollow because I knew that there was no one in Albion who truly loved me. Almost everyone that had ever remotely cared for me was gone. My parents. My first love, Elliot—executed when Logan forced me to choose between him and a group of protesting workers from Industrial. Walter was taken by the Darkness, and my own brother, I executed." I felt a tear trail down my cheek, but I ignored it. "My dreams were haunted by the people who had died for me—because of me. I barely slept. I couldn't bring myself to eat, and all the while, there was pressure from all ends of the earth for me to conceive a child. It was all too much."

"That sounds horrible," Anabelle whispered, her eyes brimmed with sympathetic tears. She gripped my hand, squeezing me softly. "I cannot imagine..."

"I had only a few friends, and even fewer confidants," I sighed. "Constance—my handmaiden before you—was the only person in whom I confided nearly everything. She took in my dresses when I had grown too thin to wear them, she brought me the sleep-inducing tea from the apothecary, she comforted me after the nightmares. When I discovered that she and Reaver were having an affair...something inside of me shattered. I hadn't realized that it would affect me so deeply, but it did. I left the castle, wanting to disappear. I didn't truly have any intention of returning...not as I was. I was mad—too mad to rule the kingdom. I didn't take anything else into consideration. I needed to feel relief."

Anabelle had shed her tears, and wiped the remnants of them away. She stared intently toward me, waiting patiently for the rest of my tale.

"I ran for days, and I saw things...I felt like I was being haunted by Logan. A specter taking his form followed me, berating me, digging into old wounds and creating new ones. I eventually found myself in Wraithmarsh, where I was apprehended by The Shadow Court."

Anabelle drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes grew wider.

"I was so confused, so tired, and so overwhelmed," I whispered. "They told me that Logan suffered eternally...because of me. It broke my heart all over. They offered to bring Logan back to me, and I was so desperate that I foolishly accepted." I brought a hand to my face, wiping the moisture from beneath my eyes. "They said that if I named a dark, corrupted soul, they would return him to me. They said that I will continue to bring them dark souls...until they are satisfied."

Shame engulfed me, and I crossed my arms over my chest. "I agreed, gods help me...I agreed to their bargain, and I named the one person that I thought had betrayed me more than anyone else. The one person I had counted on throughout my deep sadness, and the one person who had thrown my friendship back in my face."

"Constance..." Anabelle whispered.

I nodded, holding myself, trying to stave off the trembling.

"She didn't die from a fever, then."

I hung my head in shame, and more tears flooded my vision. "She was taken by The Shadow Court. They devoured her, but I do not know what became of her soul. I do not know what their ultimate plan is, but it is too late now. I am trapped beneath their will."

I couldn't help but sob. The memories were still so painful. I hadn't told this story to anyone but Reaver. I covered my face, my fingers clutching tightly at my flesh. "You must think me a monster, now."

How could she not? To end someone's life was one thing, but to give someone's soul to darkness—that was something completely abhorrent. I knew that revealing this story could—and probably would—drive Anabelle away from me, but I felt she had a right to know. In order to understand what had happened in Wraithmarsh, in order to understand me...

Anabelle rose from her seat, and she moved to my side. She took me into her arms without another word, and she squeezed me tightly.

The surprise of her reaction knocked the wind from me, and I tried to inhale a shaky, shallow breath. My body hung loosely in her grip, unsure of what to do, but I did not pull away. I didn't refuse her comfort.

"You are still a good person," she said, tilting my chin to bring my gaze up to hers. Her eyes were once more brimmed with tears. "One...or even a string of missteps does not make you bad, Keira. Even when I first came to you, when you were recovering from this trauma, I knew that you were a good person. The bad parts of us do not always destroy the good parts of us. If you were not a good person, you would not need me to comfort you. You wouldn't feel remorse."

I continued to cry, but the more I cried, the more comforted I felt. Telling Anabelle, opening up about this felt almost cathartic. It was a relief to tell someone that I knew I could trust—someone who was not involved. I wept until I had no more tears, and Anabelle stood there, stroking my hair and holding me tightly.

"Because of your deal with The Shadows, when you gave yourself in Murphy's stead, it did not age you," Anabelle said after a while.

I nodded.

"That must have angered The Shadow court," Anabelle said. "They got nothing, while Reaver gained his revitalization."

"I suppose so."

"If you outwitted them once, you can do so again," she continued. "You will find a way to free yourself of them, I'm confident of it."

"That was a fluke, Anabelle. I didn't know what would happen when I pushed Murphy out of the way."

"See?" she said. "There's that good person, and you will find a way, Keira. I know you will. Even if it is not this year or the next...you will not live your life as their servant for very long. I know you better than that."

I drew away from her, wiping my face, and trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I sighed, wringing my hands together. It would take a long time for me to feel as I once did. It would be a long time before I could call myself Hero again, but it seemed that I had eternity. I nodded, and I willed a soft smile to spread across my lips.

"That's better," Anabelle said, a smile of her own making its appearance.

"I suppose now that you're going to be a mother, you will have to return to Brightwall," I said, still smiling, not wanting to sound sour or disappointed—despite the fact that I was. "You'll be with your family again. I'm sure your mother and sister will be thrilled to have you back."

The smile left her mouth, and she looked surprised, as if the thought had never occurred to her. She was a noble, after all. She had lands to tend to, duties to see to. The only reason she had ever served as my handmaiden was due to her contract with Reaver. With that dissolved, she no longer had reason to serve me in that capacity.

"Brightwall is not so very far away," I reminded her. "It would be better for you to be surrounded by family during such a happy time."

"Keira, you know that if you wish, I would gladly stay," she offered, her hand finding a place on my arm. Her eyebrows were drawn together in concern, and her mouth was tense. She was very obviously worried about me.

"It's fine," I assured her. "I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the issue any further. "I think that what you need is a good night's rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if other people dreaded their birthdays. The celebration, the tours, the "thank you" after "thank you" I would be forced to give to people I barely knew. I wondered if it would be too late to call the whole thing off and feign illness.

No. I owe it to my people...to myself...to try to be happy.

After all, this birthday didn't fall anywhere near my coronation, nor was it the eve of an epic battle to secure the future of Albion. It would merely be my birthday. I would have nothing else to worry about. Well, I had plenty to worry about, but that would all come later.

"You're right," I said, nodding. "I should probably go."

"You know that no matter how far away I am, I will always be there for you," She said, her eyes turning serious once more.

I nodded again. "I know."

"And considering my husband's title as your adviser, I will probably find myself in Bowerstone quite often."

"Yes."

"Come on, Keira," she said, wrapping an arm around me and guiding me toward the door. "I think that once all of the presents start rolling in, you'll find yourself in a much better mood."

"I'm sure I will," I said. "I'm sorry to be so down, Anabelle. Reliving these memories..."

"There's no need to explain," she said, squeezing me comfortingly. "I understand how damaging it can be to drag up the past and share it with someone."

"There's been a lot of that lately, I suppose," I returned.

"But the good thing about the past is that it is over," She said, chuckling.

Of that, I was not very convinced.

Reaver was writing in his journal when I entered our bedchamber. I closed the door behind me, and I exhaled. My fingers went immediately to the pins holding the tightly coiled braid to the back of my head, and I let it fall down my back. I combed my fingers through the braid, and my scalp felt infinitely better.

"You look rather worn down, my darling," Reaver said, his tone a mixture of tenderness and amusement. "I take it that it was a rather weighty conversation that you and your confidant had this evening?"

"I told her about everything," I said. "About my deal with The Shadow Court."

His eyebrows raised with surprise, and he chewed his lower lip for a moment before saying, "I did not believe that you were ready for that conversation with anyone else."

Reaver had always tiptoed around the specifics of the subject, and I understood why. He had been there, he had seen me, and to some extent, I knew he felt guilty about his actions leading up to my encounter with The Shadow Court.

"It was...very painful," I gulped.

He rose from his seat, closing his journal, and he crossed the bedchamber toward me. He took my hand, and he drew me inward. "I wish I could say that the pain will vanish, but it is something that you will have to live with, just as I have, my love."

To hear him call me my love almost softened the pain, and when I leaned against his chest, inhaling the fresh, comforting scent of him, I thought that perhaps it would not be so unbearable so long as I had him. As his arms wrapped around me, I found that my limbs grew looser and more relaxed.

"Come, darling, it is nearly midnight, and I have something for you," he said, his mouth turned up into a warm smile.

He led me toward the soft, plush couch in the corner of the room. He sat me down, and he took the seat directly next to me.

"What exactly do you have to give me?" I asked, curling a brow at him. Was this a real gift? Or was he planning on making love to me? With Reaver, one could never be sure.

When he reached into his coat, I knew it was an actual, physical gift, and I was intrigued. I could only wonder what he had in store for me. He took one of my hands in his, and he obscured the gift in his other hand.

"This is rather spur of the moment. I did not anticipate that this would be ready tonight, or even tomorrow, but I thought perhaps, since it is here, I should give it to you," he said, pressing a small velvet box into the palm of my outstretched hand.

I raised my eyebrows, and I inspected the box for a few moments. It was a plain box made of plush black velvet. It was undoubtedly jewelry, but there were no maker's marks anywhere on the package. My curiosity got the better of me, and I slowly opened the gift.

I stared down to the trinket in the box, and I immediately recognized it as the necklace Reaver had gone to retrieve in Wraithmarsh. It did not look remotely like the same piece of jewelry other than the shape and detail. It had been polished to a brilliant shine, and the old chain had been replaced with a thin, delicate chain. It was truly more lovely than I had initially thought. There was a subtle, artistic carving of filigree across the locket that had been obscured by the mud and age before.

I brought my eyes up to Reaver, and I found that he was watching me intently, gauging my reaction. I gently lifted the locket from the box, and I ran my finger across the smooth, polished surface.

"My mother always said that she wanted for me to give this to the woman I would make my wife," Reaver murmured, his hand coming to join with mine, both of us cradling the locket like it needed the support, like it was the most precious thing in the world. For me, it was.

He cleared his throat, continuing, "I suppose I am a bit late, but-"

"It's beautiful," I said. It truly was—both its physical appearance, and the meaning behind it. It was a piece of his past, a piece of the man he had been before he became Reaver.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he questioned.

I blinked. I thought perhaps the pictures of Reaver and his first love, Solange, would still be held within. The latch did not protest one bit when I opened it, and I was surprised to see that both portraits had been redone. Reaver looked just as he did now, his dark, kohl-lined eyes smoldering out of the picture, and his mouth turned up into its trademark smirk

The picture of me captured my deep blue eyes, and my face was set into a serene, knowing smile—like the portrait of me had a secret that even I did not know. I glanced back up to Reaver.

"Wesley Crane owed me a portrait of the pair of us," he said with a soft laugh. "He did not hesitate to drop everything he was working on to make this deadline." He lifted the locket from my palm, and he unlatched the chain to fix it about my neck.

I lifted my hair in an attempt to assist him, and he let the locket fall just above the valley of my breasts.

He stared for a few moments, and he smiled. "It looks lovely."

He traced a finger across my collarbone, straightening the locket and stroking its face. He moved his hand back to mine.

"Reaver, I don't know what to say," I said, putting my hand over it. My throat was tight with emotion, but I felt as if I had cried enough this evening. This was too special a moment to ruin with tears. I folded my hands in my lap, trying to quell the urge to fidget with them. "Nothing will ever mean as much to me as this does."

He closed his eyes, exhaling softly, but a gentle smile touched his mouth. "I had been so sure that when Solange...perished...I would never be able to give this to anyone, but it was yours all of this time. It was waiting for you." He opened his eyes, and brought his deep and endless gaze to mine.

I was unsure of what to say, but it turned out I didn't need to say anything. I felt his hands on top of mine, and he leaned forward, whispering so closely to my lips, "I love you, Keira."

His mouth touched to mine. While the kiss was gentle, my reaction to it was the complete opposite. I was overwhelmed by a rush of heat and emotion, and my hands went immediately to the sides of his face, trying to anchor myself to him.

He slid his arms around me, dragging my body closer, and his kiss grew exponentially more intense. He tilted me back into the cushion of the couch, his body never parting from mine, and he let his hands drift down my body, touching me with an intensity that would likely bruise anyone else.

I curled my fingers in his hair, and I drew away for breath. When he moved his searing kiss to my neck, I found myself gasping and tightening the grip I had on his ebony curls. I had been so tired and weary when I entered the room, but now all I could do was hope that this would never end.

I laid my face above Reaver's heart—its rapid beating giving me a warm sort of comfort. I closed my eyes, letting the feeling of bliss sink into my bones. For those moments, I wasn't thinking about The Shadow Court, or what the implications of my continued service may or may not be. Everything was still and quiet, and it was a relief.

I could feel Reaver's arms sliding tighter around me, and I drew in a soft, shaky breath. I opened my eyes, raising them to his face, and I offered him a soft, tranquil smile.

He returned the smile with one of his own. His free hand came to rest on top of mine, and he weaved his fingers through mine. He held me in silence for a long time, not requesting to move to the bed, not trying to seduce all over again, not breaking the intense emotional atmosphere with so much as a sliver of sarcasm. He merely cradled me tightly against his body. His embrace offered me succor and contentment like nothing else ever could.

Somehow, he had become my shelter from the constant hail of sadness and violence and darkness. I paused. Perhaps he always was. Hadn't I sought him out in attempt to drive away dark thoughts in the first place? No one else understood me as he did. No other man dared to try. Gods, I loved him for it.

"I wish it could always be like this," I whispered, closing my eyes and letting the thoughts I'd been pushing away slip back into focus.

"Why can't it be?" he asked, his voice gentle and quiet, as if he didn't want to disrupt the moment any further.

"I can't forget about everything that has happened...everything that will happen," I explained, continuing the muted tone of our conversation. "It's almost too much to bear."

"While I understand your feelings, I don't approve," he said. "Dwelling on the situation will do nothing but drive you mad. If there were a way—a loophole—things might be different, Keira, but there isn't."

I sighed, not satisfied with his answer.

"This is something that we must accept," he continued. "In eleven months, if you wish to worry once more, I will not begrudge you that, but for now, please...try to live your life in the present...not in the past or future."

"Is that how you do it?" I asked, opening my eyes once more and searching out his face.

"It is what I endeavor to do, yes," he said, his eyes completely serious, now. "I try not to drag the past to the surface unless absolutely necessary. I know what happened, and I know the consequences I've paid, but I have learned to keep the remorse at bay as well as I can."

"I don't know if I can do that," I admitted, my voice sounding just a little scared.

"You do not have to do it alone, ma précieuse amour," he said, holding me tighter against him. "This is a battle I am familiar with, and I promise that I will not let you wage it alone."

I had seen so many sides of Reaver these past few days, and every time he opened himself to me, I was awestruck, astounded, humbled. This was nothing like the man I thought I knew when I married him, and yet it was. He was still that man, and he had always been this man—he was just adept at keeping it all tucked away.

I rested my cheek against his chest once more, letting my body loosen and curl inward toward him once more.

"I love you," I said softly, closing my eyes and shifting softly once more. .

"Would you like to move to the bed?" he asked tentatively. "There is a fair bit more space, if you so wish."

"Can we stay here for a while more?" I asked without opening my eyes.

"As you wish," he said, pressing a soft kiss against my brow. He paused for a moment before a soft laugh fluttered in his chest. "Happy birthday, my darling."

And for a few moments, I was convinced it would be.

A/N: The month just sort of sneaked up on me, having been so busy. I'm sorry it took this long to publish, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Thanks for all the new reviews, and I hope you continue to follow along with the story.