Betrothed (26 page)

“I see,” was all he said, listening as she poured her heart out. “And now you carry his child, and you don’t want to?”

She stiffened in his arms and pulled away. “What did you say?”

Her father gave her a gentle look. “The way you put your hand to your stomach when you came in the room? I knew you were pregnant. Your mother used to do the same thing when she was pregnant with you and your sister. She always put a fist to her stomach in the hopes of suppressing the nausea.”

Speechless, Seri absorbed this and then her face broke into an unexpected smile. Graeme would be delighted; she could just picture the beautiful smile on his face as she told him the news. It would be a daughter, and he would love her and treat her as gently and with such love as he had with her.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Seri looked back at her father and blushed, fisting her hands in the heavy brocaded skirts and averting her face. “It’s not as easy as all that, Father. He’s Athoni and I’m Vidari.”

“It didn’t seem to matter to the gods, child. Why should it matter to the two of you?” He paused, then. “Does he love you?”

She thought of Graeme’s intense face, his gray eyes dark as his body slid into hers, and blushed again. “I think so.” She shook her head. “But Rilen… and the war…”

Her father patted her hand. “Rilen is and will always be a hotheaded warmonger. Let him live out his own troubles. You do what you need to do and don’t think about him. He does not speak for all Vidari.”

Seri looked into her father’s face, serious. “But the Athonites are our enemies, Father. They try to suppress the Vidari. I’d be betraying everyone.”

Her father gave her a kindly, understanding smile. “Our hearts don’t tell us who to love, my child. As for betraying your people, well.” He shook his head. “Think of all the good you can do if you are at his right-hand side. I cannot help but think he would view the Vidari in a different light if you were there to pass wisdom to him.”

Hope leapt in her breast, and she knew what her father said was true. Graeme did care what she thought, and he wasn’t inordinately cruel. He’d given her the choice to punish the Vidari rebels before—she knew if she presented to him the unfairness of the laws, he’d listen to her. “Oh, Father, do you really think this could work?” Her whisper of hope was quiet with joy.

“One way to find out, isn’t there? Now, come kiss your father on the cheek before you run off to find your prince again.”

She leaned in and kissed him, happy excitement on her face. “Thank you. I need to find Graeme, explain to him what is happening with Rilen. Maybe there’s time to stop things peaceably.”

Seri jumped to her feet and dashed out the door, nearly running into Josdi and Viktor returning from their walk. “Viktor,” she said, stepping to the side so he and Josdi could pass. “Is Graeme asleep?”

He gave her an odd look. “Asleep? No.”

Seri glanced at the sunlit windows. It was nearing midday if she didn’t miss her guess. He was up late this day. “Is he in his study, then? I must talk to him.”

He gave her an odd look. “He’s gone.”

Time slowed. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”

Viktor escorted Josdi to her father’s bedside and whispered something in her ear. She nodded and sat down with their father, waiting, a wrinkle of concern on her brow. Once she was safely deposited, he turned back to Seri, escorting her out to the hall. “He didn’t say anything to you?”

The nausea returned, burning at the back of her throat and mixing with fear. “No, he didn’t. Where did he go?”

“What is the meaning of this?”

A woman’s strident voice caused Seri and Viktor to both turn. Dressed in her flowing sleeping gown, the queen strode toward them, steel-gray hair flowing over her shoulders. Two servant women followed behind her, holding the long sweep of skirts.

Viktor dropped into a hasty bow, but Seri stood her ground as the woman approached her and shook a roll of parchment in her face. “How did you convince him to do this, slut? What powers do you have over my stepson?”

“What do you mean?” Seri stared at the scroll, confused. “What powers?”

The queen unrolled the parchment and stabbed at the fluid lettering on the page. “This! This here! He has given the rights back to the Vidari people and issued this land back to them with you as their regent if he should die.” She thrust the document at Seri.

She grabbed it, her hands trembling as she stared at the swooping lettering, wishing she could read it. “Viktor,” she said softly, “what does this mean?”

“He has given your kingdom back to your people, my lady, and put you at the head of it in the event of his death.” The servant’s voice was quiet.

“Madness!” the queen shrieked. “You have driven that boy to madness, and that is why he rides out in the daytime to confront the rebels. He will kill himself, all for stupid lovesick lust for this Vidari slut.”

The world swam in front of Seri’s eyes, and she stared at the parchment, then back at the queen. “He has ridden out?”

She gave Seri a scathing look. “No doubt you set him up to do this. The fool has left, half-fainting, in the middle of the day, just to go and prove himself and put down the rebellion. If he dies it will be your fault.”

Seri’s knees grew weak and she leaned against Viktor, her body suddenly heavy. “I don’t understand.”

“My lady,” he said, whispering low, “he left you a private letter that I was to give you tonight.”

“Read it to me.” Her fingers gripped his with terrible force. “I want to know what it says.”

He looked at the queen, then bowed again. “Apologies, Your Grace, but I am under explicit instructions to read the letter only to Eterna Seri.” Ignoring the older woman’s gaping mouth, he took Seri by the waist and dragged her back to the chapel.

When she was seated on one of the ancient benches, he pulled a small note from his breast pocket and slid his fingernail under the wax seal. “I was not to read this to you until sunset, in case he did not return. My lord was most adamant.” The tone of Viktor’s voice told her what he thought of that particular order.

Seri stared at the small scroll, her aura flaring. “Please, Viktor. I must know what is going on.”

He nodded, then cleared his throat and began to speak in low, measured tones.

My dearest wife and Eterna,

I am gravely sorry that it has come to this. You speak of being torn between two worlds, and trust me when I say that I know what that feels like. My mind tells me I should turn my back on this mad bond that the gods have created between us and leave for Athon and forget we ever met. That we are too different in too many ways, and the rift between your kind and mine—both Vidari and Athon, human and Blood—is too great.

But then I think of you and the sweet smile you have on your face when you sleep. Of the beauty of your long, golden limbs and the feeling in my heart when you bestow one of your rare smiles on me, and I know that surely the gods have chosen wisely when they picked you as my mate. You invade my thoughts at every waking moment, overriding any sense of logic. I cannot think of the kingdom when all I see are your sad eyes in my mind, and I would do anything to banish that sorrow from your eyes.

And so I ride out today to meet the enemy, because that is my duty as a prince and ruler of my people, and I have always been a dutiful son. I bring only the smallest band of guards with me, and I do not expect to live out the day. Perhaps with my defeat and death, the rebels will calm and leave you and my sister in safety at the palace. Seek out Viktor—I have left instructions to place you at the head of the kingdom here. You can bring your people back to greatness, Seri. I know that is what you have always wanted, more than my touch, more than my love, and so I shall give it to you.

The sun rises, and I must face its blinding rays alone, but I shall smile because the radiance reminds me of you and the light you have brought into a dark, eternal life.

Yours in love,

Graeme

Seri wept as Viktor rerolled the small parchment shut and handed it to her. Her fingers traced the lines on the paper as tears flowed freely down her face and sobs erupted from her throat. “He loved me?” She choked on the words. “I thought he hated me. He would not drink from me.”

“He would not take your pity,” Viktor said stiffly. “He has pride too, my lady. Just as much as any Vidari.”

She buried her face in her hands, the keening despair that she felt ready to spiral out of control. “I have driven him away. He has given me everything that I demanded like a foolish child, and I don’t want any of it. I want nothing more than to see his face again and to hold him close and tell him that I love him. I want to tell him that we have made a daughter together.”

“It is too late for that,” Viktor said.

She stared out the window of the chapel, at the rolling valleys below the castle. At the distant mountains where the small city of Uday rose, little more than a few hours’ ride away.

“No,” she said, suddenly calm and knowing what she must do. “It is not too late.”

Chapter Twelve

Seri raced back to her room, skirts hiked high above her knees. She could run best that way, and it didn’t matter who saw her. Behind her, Viktor followed, calling after her. “Princesse! Wait!”

But she didn’t wait, and when she got back to her room, she slammed through the doors and immediately ran for her clothing.

“Mistress,” Idalla said, rushing over to see the frantic Seri. “What is wrong?”

“I can’t explain now,” Seri said, ripping past ornate gown after ornate gown, searching for something serviceable. “I need my clothes.”

“You have clothes—”

“My Vidari clothes! Does no one have them? What about my sister’s clothes?”

Idalla paled and nodded. “I will speak with her servant, mistress.”

“Hurry,” she snapped. She knew she was hurting Idalla’s feelings, but it didn’t matter; nothing mattered except Graeme.

“What do you mean to do?” Viktor said, following her as she stalked through to the adjoining room that belonged to Graeme, looking through his things. She needed a weapon, and he was bound to have something. Kneeling next to one of his trunks, she began to toss out his clothing.

“Mistress!” She heard Viktor’s voice, sharp, behind her. “What is it you seek?”

“I need a weapon,” Seri said. “There should be one somewhere around here. I need one if I’m going after him.”

To her surprise, Viktor moved past her and uncovered a hidden compartment in the trunk, revealing the dagger that Rilen had given her so long ago. Bits of Graeme’s blood still clung to the blade, dried on and flecked, and she nearly cried at the sight of it. She took it from his hands with a shaky nod. “Thank you.”

Idalla returned a few minutes later with one of Josdi’s ragged dresses, the hem mended and patched by a thoughtful Athoni servant, and Seri thanked the girl. “I’m sorry,” she said as she worked her way out of the constrictive Athoni clothing with the servant’s help. “I can’t think straight. Can’t think of anything but him. I just know I need to get to him.”

“I understand, my lady,” she said as she helped Seri step out of the gold-encrusted gown and into the soft, threadbare Vidari shift. “I had one of the other servants get you a few waterskins for your journey and some coins to take with you, just in case.” The servant pressed the backpack into her hands. “What about shoes?”

“No shoes,” Seri said, taking the coins and wanting to laugh at the absurdity of it. To think of all the times she had begged for her money to leave, and now she couldn’t care less if she saw another coin.

Soon enough she was ready and tromping through the courtyard on feet made tender after weeks of wearing shoes. It didn’t matter—bare feet were still much better than the silly Athoni silk slippers.

“You know where you’re going?” Viktor hurried behind her, a worried look on his face as he watched her shove the dagger into her waistband, not breaking stride.

“I do,” she said grimly. “Uday is a day’s walk from here, but with a horse, I should be able to get there much faster.”

“You’ll be safe?”

The doors of the stable opened wide as she approached, servants bowing and scraping in their haste to back away from the Vidari princesse with rage on her face.

“The Vidari think I am one of them, and the Athonites would not dare lay a hand on me.” She flicked her gaze over to Viktor. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, trusting her. “I’ve saddled the fastest horse for you—Fleetfoot is a bit high-spirited, but she’ll get you there the quickest.” At his gesture, one of the servants brought the prancing gray mare forward, her head tossing and eyes rolling as she waited.

Seri took a step back, regarding the high-strung horse. She could do this. She could. “Show me how to get on her back.”

Viktor frowned. “My lady, have you never ridden a horse before? I’m not sure if this is wise—”

“I don’t care if it’s wise or not,” Seri said, clenching her fists. Tears threatened to choke her. “I just need to get to Graeme, and if this is the fastest way possible, then I’ll lead her there on foot, by the goddess, but I’ll get there in time. Do you understand me?”

“I can take you,” said a soft voice.

Both of them turned to stare at Meluoe, her dark hair bound in a tight braid, her legs clad in the uniform of one of the Athoni guardsmen. Her blue eyes—so similar to Graeme’s—were intense with emotion. She gave Seri a long look, then moved forward to the horse, running a calming hand along her neck. “I can ride Fleetfoot, and I’ll take you there, Seri.”

“You’d help me after all this?” Seri looked at her in surprise.

“No,” Meluoe said stubbornly, “but I’d help my brother, and you are the only one who can stop this foolish quest he’s set himself on.”

Seri nodded grimly. “Then let’s go. Every moment we spend here talking is another moment we could be too late.”