Good morning, lovelies!
Surprise! Everyone can thank Mel for cranking out edits fast enough to now switch to daily posting. We both felt too guilty making you all hang on last chapter all weekend, so this story will be rapid fire posting daily until it is finished!
Thank you endlessly to Mel and Pamela!
Chapter 21
It has been nearly two months since my arrival in the capital, and the king still refuses to see me. I have tried on numerous occasions to meet with him, if only to beg the chance to return to Rowanberry. His month-long deadline has come and gone, but he has not made any indication that he has noticed or cares. Despite my inability to beg an audience with him, he has hosted no less than a dozen parties, parading my sister and I in front of his courtiers, as if we are nothing more than oxen at market.
My heart aches with longing to be back at Rowanberry, in peace and solitude.
Though I am unsurprised by it, Edward has not once written to me. His silence feels even more piercing than it did when he left for war, and though I at first attempted to contact him, writing to him of his child growing in me after he failed to show, he has sent nothing in response and I have since given up.
My heart has grown bitter toward him. I may have considered petitioning the king for his aid, but I have been taken from my home against my true will, and Edward has abandoned me here, ignoring all my pleas to solve this rift between us. I can take his silence to mean only one thing: he does not love me after all.
Still, without the ability to meet with the king, I am essentially a prisoner in the capital.
Even my dear sister has grown distant since giving birth to Peter. She is withdrawn when we speak, and she spends most of her time at the king's behest. The king has paraded many nobles before me, but when I showed little interest, he stopped summoning me to dinners. It is just as well; I cannot fathom seeking out another husband. If my marriage to Edward is truly over, then I shall raise my child on my own. I shall not be subject to the inconstant whims of another's heart.
One person I am surprised to find I am getting to know better is Princess Katherine, who is as shrewd and wise as her father is loud and dismissive. We have met on a number of occasions, often in passing, but each time she surprises me with her diligence to her duties and the compassion with which she operates. If I had my choice, I would spend more time with her, if not for any other reason than to observe her.
Most of my days, I spend exploring the capital. Some days it is Michael who accompanies me, and other days it is one of the king's guards. Rarely am I left alone, the one thing I truly miss of my old life.
On truly rare days, I am permitted to take Sweetblue out for a ride, though it is against the express orders of the court physician.
But on days like today, when the early autumn sky is bright and crisp, I cannot help but be drawn from the castle walls.
It is Garrett, a guard of the king's, who rides with me today. He is a friendly enough man, with a wide smile and broad laugh when it is coaxed out of him. He has grown less formal with me during our trips together, though he remains ever respectful.
I like riding with him because rarely does he make a fuss over me. He allows me to exist as I might under my own power.
It is a small and precious gift.
The paths beyond the castle are winding, and around me, the forest is beginning to take on the glittering reds and golds of autumn. The path we are on is narrow, forcing Garrett to ride behind me, and I am in such a lighthearted mood, I allow Sweetblue to lead us, meandering up the path at her own leisurely pace.
"Do you hear that?" Garrett asks, and I turn toward him curiously. "I believe the falcons are getting ready to depart."
I look up at the trees curiously. There is a sharp cry echoing through the branches, though I cannot identify where it is coming from. Garrett has explained to me that the falcons will leave this land for winter, traveling a great distance south. I have never known much about birds, and I am happy for him to go on about them, especially considering how knowledgeable he is.
I turn back toward the path before us when I feel Sweetblue falter. I reach down, one hand on her neck, as my brow creases.
"Is all well, m'lady?" Garrett asks, immediately dismounting and moving to my side.
"Sweetblue," I start, but Garrett is already lifting Sweetblue's front leg, examining her hoof.
"Something is lodged there," he says with a frown. "Come on, there is a farrier not far from here. We shall get her fixed up in no time."
He pats my horse on her haunch before going back and climbing his own mount. He takes the lead, moving slowly so that Sweetblue is not in further pain.
We come out of the woods near the edge of the village that surrounds the capital. I have spent some time here, though not enough to know my way around.
Garrett leads me down back roads until I can see the blacksmith come into view. There is a man working at an anvil as a second man tends to a fire behind him.
"Hello!" Garrett calls, dismounting from his horse. "Are you open for business? One of our horses has something lodged in her hoof."
Immediately the two men pause their work, wiping hands on dirty cloths as they come closer.
"Which one?" one of the men asks. His skin is tanned from working outdoors, with dark hair and dark eyes.
"Sweetblue," I say, patting her neck. "It is the front left."
Garrett comes to help me down as the man approaches Sweetblue.
I watch him murmur to her before gently reaching down to pick up her hoof.
"How long ago did it happen?" the second man asks.
I turn to him as Garrett answers. "Just now, whilst we were in the forest."
I am struck mute by the sight of this man. He is tall and strong, with blond curls and bright green eyes. I recognize the shape of his eyes and the smirk tucked into the corner of his lips immediately.
"I am sorry," I whisper, my voice shaking. "But, are you by chance the son of Carlisle and Esme Cullen?"
His eyes widen, and that familiar smile that I have seen on so many of his siblings pulls across his mouth.
"I am indeed," he says with a grin. "Benjamin, m'lady. But you are free to call me Ben." He gives a little bow and I stare at him, my heart thundering in my chest. "How is it you are familiar with my parents?"
I clear my throat. "My name is Bella Cullen," I say slowly. "I am married to your brother, Edward."
Ben's face morphs, his surprise and excitement mingling across his features as he lets out a chuffing laugh before reaching for me and pulling me into a fierce hug. "Is that right?" he crows, spinning me around. "Pardon me." He chuckles, setting me down when Garrett steps in. "I did not mean any offense. We Cullens are huggers." He chuckles once more and I smile in agreement. "Is my brother here?" he asks, his gaze lifting to sweep the area.
I clear my throat. "No," I say slowly. "No, he…" I pause and shake my head. "He has been made Duke of Levenforth."
Ben lets out a long whistle, looking more and more stunned with each piece of news I bring him. "Edward, a duke," he says with a shake of his head. "I can scarcely imagine it. Never a more ill-suited role for a man if you ask me."
I frown. "Why is that?"
Ben reaches up, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "Oh, I did not mean anything by it," he tells me. "I just mean that, well… Edward did not crave power, not like Caius. And he did not seek out notoriety like Michael. Edward is the level-headed one. He always wanted a simple life."
I swallow hard. "I think it has been a very long time since you have seen your brother," I say quietly.
Ben looks confused, and I clear my throat. "Michael is here in the capital as well," I tell him, wishing to move on from the subject of Edward.
"Is he?" Ben asks, looking surprised but delighted by the news.
"Yes, he's a guard," I start, but before I can say anything more, the other man is coming over to us.
"A rock lodged in her shoe," he tells us. "We can fix her up no problem."
Ben reaches out, gently tapping fingertips against the other man's chest. "Isaac, did you hear? This is Edward's wife, Duchess Bella Cullen."
The other man—Isaac—gazes at me with a note of surprise in his dark eyes. "Mistress Cullen of Rowanberry?"
It is only then that I realize where it is I recognize his features from. I gasp, a hand flying to my mouth. "Are you the brother of Angela?" I recall faintly her stories of her brothers. Isaac, the blacksmith's apprentance, worked near the capital.
Isaac dips his head in a familiar humble gesture. "I am indeed," he agrees. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, my lady. My sister speaks so highly of you."
My heart squeezes in my chest. "I miss her dearly." I sigh, shaking my head.
"Would you care to come sit and have a cup of tea?" Ben offers. "Isaac will take care of your Sweetblue."
Isaac gives me a small smile in confirmation, and I follow Ben inside their shop. There is only one room inside, and it smells of leather and metal, but there is a small table to sit at and a loaf of bread wrapped in cloth upon it. Ben motions for me to take a seat while he busies himself setting up a kettle of water. Garrett, I note, is just outside the open door. It is just as well, as there is hardly space in here for one, let alone three.
I remove my riding cloak as I settle, and Ben brings a basket of berries to the table. His eyes flash toward my stomach. I am only barely showing, and if I am standing, one can hardly tell I am with child. But sitting in my restricting dress, it grows more apparent.
"What brings you to the capital?" Ben asks, setting a tea cup in front of me.
I lick my lips, unsure of how to answer. "The king," I say slowly. "He requested I join him after he came to visit Levenforth." I pause. There is too much story to tell, and though Ben is the brother of my estranged husband, it feels too personal to confide in him.
Ben sits across from me at the table, and when I look up into his face, I am struck by how much he looks like Edward. Younger, more boyish in the way he tilts his head and grins, but similar nonetheless.
"Bella." He pauses, then tilts his head, that boyish grin spreading across his mouth. "I am sorry, I am too informal. May I call you Bella?"
I nod for him to proceed.
"Bella," he starts again. "You and I have just met, but if you are married to my brother, that makes us family. We owe to each other a loyalty to the truth, especially if it will help ease a burden from a weary mind."
I am taken aback by his assessment. Has he read me so easily?
He reaches out, placing a gentle hand over my closed fists. "If you need to speak of anything, even if it paints my brother in a negative light, I am here to listen."
I have never met anyone, save perhaps for his parents, who has ever been so immediately embracing. I see his mother's heart in him, and I let out a long breath, tears brimming in my eyes. "I hardly know where to start."
There is a soft whistle as the water reaches boiling. Ben stands and pours steaming water over the herbs in my cup. He looks at me as he takes his seat again. "Perhaps," he urges softly. "Start from the beginning."
It is easier than I might have suspected, to pour my heart out to him. I begin as he suggested, telling him of Rosalie's marriage and the arrangement that led to my own union. I tell him of our wedding night and the separation that followed. I tell him of our reunion and the vast rift drawn between us. I explain our visit to his childhood home and even the witch's prophecy which I have never once uttered aloud before. I confess my confusion, heartache, and frustration with the mercurial man to which my heart still belongs. I even tell him of Michael, and though I am cautious to share it, I explain about the uneasiness I feel near him.
When I am done, I have tears on my cheeks, but I find that a burden has been lifted from my soul. I had no idea how much better I could feel simply from talking.
Ben, who is every bit like his mother, is patient and caring as I pour all my troubles out onto the table. When I am finished, he stands and comes around to my side, pulling me into a hug. It is too familiar for strangers, but he has the warmth and comfort of Esme, and I lean into the embrace, homesick.
"My brother, the wise fool." He sighs. He pulls back gently and looks me over. "Bella, this I promise you—whatever the truth is of what is going on, we will help you get to the bottom of it." He looks over his shoulder, and I am surprised to find Isaac standing in the doorway. Garrett is behind him, looking troubled. Whether it is because he's heard my tale or he does not like me being so friendly with strangers, I cannot say.
"From what my sister tells me," Isaac says, drawing my attention to him. "Rowanberry is now occupied by the king's guards."
I blink. "What?"
"She said they arrived almost two months ago. It makes me wonder if there is not a bigger plot at work here," he muses.
Ben turns back to me. "Whatever it is," he says. "We will help you solve this mystery."
"What mystery?" I ask, suddenly weary.
"My brother has always been too noble for his own good," Ben explains. "He is the self-sacrificing type, which is why he went off to be a soldier to support our family." He shrugs. "He has always taken things too seriously though. Whatever he does, he commits completely. I imagine that extends to his duties in war."
I tremble, remembering the look of satisfaction on his face as he administered violence.
"He took pleasure in it," I whisper.
Ben shakes his head. "No," he says gently. "I doubt very much it was that. Edward takes pride in work well done, but he has never had violence in his heart. If he has been treating you this way, there must be something greater, something you do not know about that is driving his behavior."
I stare at him. "Do you truly think so?" I am skeptical. He has not known his brother for many years now, and war changes a man.
"I am certain of it," he says with confidence. He stands and strides over to Isaac, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "And we will help prove it."
I do not know how they plan to do that. They are hardly people of political importance, but it is nice to feel for once as if someone is on my side, so I nod to both of them.
I finish my tea and help them tidy up before I am brought back out to Sweetblue. Isaac helps me mount her then steps back, examining the horse one more time. Ben comes up to his side, sliding an arm around Isaac's waist as they both step back from me.
"Do not fear, Bella," Ben calls. "You have allies now. You are not alone."
I give them both grateful smiles before Garrett gently kicks his horse into movement.
As we ride back to the capital, I mull over Ben's words. I have had so few allies in life, I scarcely can believe the feeling of safety it brings me.
I cannot help the hopeful smile that tugs at my lips. I am not alone.
…
The next morning, as I am descending after breakfast, I cross paths with Princess Katherine. I stop in my tracks, hastily curtseying to her, but she waves me off.
"Please do not feel to stand on such formalities, Duchess Cullen," she says coolly.
I hesitate. "In that case, please call me Bella, your highness."
A rare smile tugs at the princess's lips. "Bella," she agrees. Her eyes flicker around her, but when she finds we are alone, she takes a small step toward me. "I should ask for your own sake that you use discretion when you return the favor," she says softly.
I nod, understanding her meaning. She might be giving me permission to call her Katherine, but to the world, it is a line I must not cross.
"Are you busy this morning?" she asks, looking me over. I am dressed in my riding clothes again, and I hesitate, glancing down my body.
"No. I was going for a ride."
Katherine smiles, but it is a brief, tight movement across her face. "Excellent. We will ride together." She turns briskly and begins heading out of the castle toward the stables. I hasten to follow her, curious at this invitation.
In the stables, her horse is already tacked up, ready for mounting. She instructs stable hands to tend to my horse as well when Garrett slips through the door.
"Ah, Captain, good morning," Katherine says, eyeing the man. I turn to him curiously. I thought he was a simple soldier; I had no idea he was a captain.
"Highness," he says with a nod of his head. "A ride this morning?" he asks.
She nods and he turns to another stable hand, ordering for a horse.
The animals are brought outside the stables, and stools are set out, ready to help us mount.
I watch as Katherine inspects her horse, circling the beast carefully. Her gaze is shrewd, looking for anything out of place, though I see a tender hand come up and brush the beast's nose. She has compassion as well.
When she is satisfied, she mounts the horse on her own, turning to wait for me. I need help into my seat, and though I do not do as thorough of an inspection, I lean over, brushing a hand over Sweetblue's neck, peppering her with soft kisses. I straighten as Garrett joins us.
When the three of us are ready, Katherine takes off, setting a brisk, high-energy pace. I follow behind her and Garrett pulls up the rear.
Katherine leads us down a new trail that I have never traversed. It is perhaps harder riding than I am meant to do pregnant, but I trust Sweetblue with my life, and together we navigate the quick pace.
We ride on for a long while, only stopping when a large river comes into view. The roaring is tremendous, and I peek through the trees, eager to catch a glimpse of it.
Katherine leads us to a small bank where a pool of water has been created by a natural barrier of rocks and felled trees. She dismounts and leads her horse to drink. I prepare to dismount Sweetblue when Garrett appears at my side, offering me a hand down. I take it, less certain of my footing than the princess.
I bring Sweetblue to the water, rubbing her neck as she bends to drink.
"You ride well," Katherine says, eyeing me.
I smile and rub a hand over Sweetblue's back. "It is easy to ride with a mount like Sweetblue," I tell her honestly.
Katherine gives me a rare, genuine smile. "Bella, may I speak frankly with you?"
I look at her in surprise. I see out of the corner of my eye that Garrett has let his horse come to the water, but he has placed himself across the small clearing, presumably out of earshot.
"Yes," I say, turning back to Katherine. "Of course."
She lets out a breath. "You seem to me the sort of woman of a noble heart and mind," she begins. "You are not easily swayed, even when everyone else around you is. It is a rare strength that I see in you."
I am surprised by her assessment. I am hardly strong, nor brave.
"You are too generous," I tell her, dropping my gaze. "I fear it is compliance and an unwillingness to cause trouble that you see in me, nothing more."
Katherine moves around her horse, stepping toward me. "Bella, you have the heart of a tigress."
Her words rattle inside me, making me gasp and look up at her. How can she know? How can she possibly know what Madre Maria said to me?
"War is coming," she says softly, shaking her head. "It is nearly upon our doorstep, and my father is too blinded by his own pride and vanity to stop it." She pauses, her hands clenching into fists as she takes a breath to center herself. "We will need allies we can rely on. True, unmovable allies," she says, eyeing me. "I believe you and your husband fall into that category."
My heart stutters. "You flatter me," I say thickly, my voice tight.
"Bella, I know what brought you to the capital," she continues, and I am forced to really focus on her as she advances toward me. "I think that you have been fooled into believing my father is going to help you." She shakes her head. "You need to know that he has no such intentions. You are here for one purpose."
My heart is thundering in my breast. "What is that?"
Katherine's eyes are so intense, it is difficult to meet her gaze. "You are the bargaining chip with which my father controls your husband and the army that sits at his command."
My breath falters. "You must be mistaken," I begin to protest.
"I am not. Your husband was beloved by his men, and now that he holds the title of duke, he has more popular sway than the king. The only thing that can stop your husband from rising up against my father is the fact that you are here."
I feel as if I cannot breathe. If this is true, why has Edward not written to me? Why has he not explained, leaving me to question him in the dark?
I am so furious and choked with a sick feeling of hope that I turn from the princess, pacing. "My husband is loyal to the king," I say after a moment.
"Loyalties shift," she answers. I look at her. "My father has governed his kingdom poorly. His people are tired and cry out for justice against their sovereign. He knows that he is one wrong move away from being removed from the throne."
I stare at her. "Why cannot you be queen?" I ask. "You would be so good at it. I have seen how you are in your training."
Katherine's smile is thin. "My father's hatred of women does not leave me much opportunity," she says softly. "My time will come," she says after a moment. "For now, I worry about the people of this kingdom, my people. War will come to our doorstep, and I need to know I will have allies I can trust."
I let out a shaking breath. "If my husband truly does still care for me," I say slowly. "Then we are both on your side. I would have you as my queen any day."
Katherine looks humbled by my proclamation.
She reaches out, gently touching the back of my hand. It strikes me that the princess, despite her wisdom and maturity, is not much older than I am. Rosalie, who is three years my senior, is older than her by at least a year. The weight of the world has been carried on Katherine's slim shoulders for so long, she seems ageless, but I know for a fact that if she is anything like me, she must be riddled with self doubt and uncertainty.
It is a wonder how she can pull any of this off.
Once the horses have been watered, we take our mounts again, this time riding slower. The path is beautiful and cuts through parts of the forest I have never seen. Out here, Katherine is much less rigid, and I am even surprised to find her joking with Garrett. We pause often for the captain to point out a bird, or for the princess to talk about a great battle that raged on this land more than a thousand years ago. She is a wonderful storyteller, and whether her tale is true or not, I do not care. I am enraptured.
By the time we return to the castle, I feel lighter and better than I have felt since I left Rowanberry.
Katherine departs the stables with a smile in my direction, and Garrett walks with me until I am in the castle once more.
"Thank you," I tell him. "For the day."
He offers me a much friendlier smile than he ever has before. "It was my pleasure," he says, inclining his head. We part ways and I climb up the stairs, hoping to catch Rosalie in her rooms.
"Rose?" I ask, pushing open her door with a light knock. "Are you here? I wanted to—"
The air rushes out of me when I see two familiar faces sitting beside the fire with my sister. Everyone looks up at me, my sister's eyes wide as she tries to mouth something to me. I cannot make out what it is though, because I am focused on the woman who rises from her seat, a sneer on her aged face.
I take a deep, shaking breath. "Hello, Grandmother."
"Isabella." Grandmother's voice is a hiss as her cold eyes narrow on my face. "You are filthy. What do you think you are doing, walking around in such a manner?"
I catch her fingers tightening over the head of her cane, and I fight back a flinch.
For the first time in my life, I do not let her goad me. I take a steadying breath and look past her to where my father is sitting beside Rosalie.
He seems so much older than I would expect, with brown hair now running with streaks of grey though I know he is not yet fifty.
"Hello, Father."
He does not stand, but when he gazes at me, it is with the same soft look he used to give us as children. Rosalie recounted the man he was before our mother died. She says he was strong, brave, and bold. When our mother died, Rosalie said it was like his soul went with her, and he has been a hollow person since. It is why Grandmother stepped in to raise us. We needed someone paying attention, and no matter what we did, Father never could. We reminded him too much of what he had lost.
As a child, I used to cry for him, thinking of a love so terrible that it could end your life when it dies. As I grew older, I found resentment growing instead.
Now, I pity him. My father has never been strong enough to do what was needed of him.
I shall not be like him.
Grandmother stomps her cane on the stone floor, demanding my attention.
A feeling comes over me. I do not know if it is from the confidence that Katherine has shown in me, or it is merely the fact that I have learned so much, faced so much, that I am a different person. For the first time in my life, Grandmother does not scare me.
"You may address me as Duchess Cullen," I tell her, my voice surprisingly even. "And if you would like to throw a tantrum, I am happy to call my guards in and remove you at once." It is a bluff; I do not have guards, but I can see I have shocked Grandmother. She takes a step back, her mouth open, her eyes bugged wide.
I move toward the chairs. "Now, let us all sit for a civil cup of tea," I order.
I glide to a seat beside Rosalie, who looks both stunned and impressed. Father's expression has not changed, and after a moment, I hear Grandmother huff before she takes her seat.
I fold my shaking hands in my lap, trying not to let them betray how nervous I am. "How are you, Father?"
Father turns his distant gaze in my direction. "Hm? Oh, quite right," he says nonsensically.
I frown, leaning forward to pour him a cup of tea. He takes it happily but never brings it closer than his lap. Has he lost his mind after all these years?
I glance at Rosalie, but she is not looking at either of us. Her eyes are on the fireplace, watching the small flames lick at a birch log. I turn to Grandmother.
"Helen," I say, pouring her a cup. I see her lips sneer, but she does not berate me for being so informal with her. Never have I once called her by her given name. It would surely result in a beating when I was a child.
"How are you and Father faring?" I ask, pouring myself a cup before settling back in my seat again.
Grandmother's mouth is so pursed it is a wonder how she can speak at all. "Your father is ill," she says, her voice acidic. "His weak mind has gotten the best of him." She sniffs. "You could not imagine the burden it has been on me."
I sip my tea, wondering how anyone can speak of their child in such a way.
"What has brought you here?" I ask, glancing at Rosalie.
Grandmother sniffs. "Your sister's wedding, of course."
My head whips around, looking at Grandmother before I turn back to Rosalie. "What? To whom?"
Rosalie blinks and gives me a thin smile. "I am marrying the king," she says softly.
I gape at her. "When?" I demand, feeling a frantic need to stop this from happening.
"Tonight."
I turn to Grandmother to see a smug look of satisfaction on her face. She likes seeing me caught by surprise.
"Your sister will be queen," she preens, her gaze one of adoration as she looks over Rosalie.
My heart twists in my chest. "No, this must not happen. Rosalie, you cannot—"
"It is done, Bella," Rosalie says softly. She looks up at me, her eyes briefly meeting mine. "No one says no to the king."
I shake my head. Maybe Katherine can help me stop this. Surely she can act as a voice of reason with her father.
I pause, remembering our conversation this morning. Katherine is as powerless as the rest of us.
I have seen my sister caught in a loveless marriage once before. I refuse to let her get stuck in a second.
"Rosalie, I will stop this. I swear it."
"How dare you?" Grandmother snarls, and in my heightened frantic state, I flinch. "Your sister is getting the opportunity that should have been hers since birth."
I gape at her. "We are not royal," I argue. "Father is a merchant, just as his father was." Even if Rosalie is a good person, she does not just deserve to be queen.
"I was destined for more than this pathetic excuse of a family!" Grandmother screams. "I was denied my rightful existence when I was forced to marry your grandfather. I should have been queen, and instead I have a broken excuse of a man for a son and a stupid fat granddaughter who does not know when to keep her mouth shut!" Her cane is lifted, flying wildly around as she rants. I have never seen her like this. No matter what is going on, no matter how angry she is, Grandmother is always composed. Now, she is unhinged, her ranting and raving sounding more like the delusions of a lunatic.
"You are a vain, cruel, and bitter old woman," I snap, standing. "You have been spitting venom into our lives since before we were born, and for all your efforts to make us as miserable as you, you have failed." I take a breath, my shoulders squaring. "Rosalie and I have found our way up in this world, but it is no thanks to you. We are what we are in spite of you." I press a hand to my belly, and Grandmother's eyes widen. "And my children, and my children's children will grow up out of reach of your poison. You will die with no one and nothing. It will be an isolation of your own design."
Grandmother is speechless. I too am in a state of shock over the words that have just poured out of me. Grandmother opens her mouth, but before she can speak, there is a knock at the door. We all look up as Garrett enters the room.
"Apologies for the intrusion, Duchess Cullen, Duchess Cross," he says, bowing in our direction. "You are both needed in the throne room."
I take a breath and nod. "Very well. Captain, please see to it that this woman is escorted out of the castle. She is not welcome back."
Grandmother makes a string of protesting sounds, but I ignore her, looking to Father. He has the same distant expression on his face, and for a moment, I cannot take it anymore. I drop to my knees before him, gently taking his hands in mine. His teacup is still perched on his lap, and I move it back to the table before focusing on him. "Father," I whisper, my throat tight. "Papa?"
Father blinks, looking at me in what appears to me mild surprise.
"Renée?" he asks, sounding uncertain.
Tears burn my vision and I shake my head. "No, it is me, Bella," I tell him.
"Bella," he says softly. "Yes, someone should go tend to the baby. Mother, will you do that?"
He has lost his mind. Years of grief and pain have worn him down, and now he is a ghost of a man.
"Charles," Grandmother snaps as Garrett comes to collect her. "Do something!"
Father looks at her blankly. "Something, yes, we should go do something," he agrees. He stands, and I fall back onto my heels as he steps around me. He follows Grandmother as Garrett removes her from the room, and the moment the door is closed, my hands are shaking and I feel as if I will throw up here on Rosalie's floor.
"I have never seen you like that," Rosalie says, and I look up at her to see her gazing at me with wide eyes.
I take a breath. "It is long past time I stood up to her," I say quietly. "I am sorry to speak for you." I frown. "I know you do not have the same relationship with her that I do."
Rosalie shakes her head but says nothing. After a moment, she stands. "We should go down to the throne room," she says softly.
I let out a breath and climb to my feet. Rosalie gives me a reassuring smile, taking my hand in hers. Together, we head down to face the king.