Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (15 page)

"Not that I'm aware of, no, and what you said to him earlier…it rattled him. He
is
afraid, Daria, though he denies it. He fears your uncle—yes—but I think he's more afraid for his brother. I believe he still holds out hope that my uncle Tiernan will come back to him. I'm not sure how much you know, but they all have history together, including your father. They grew up together, so despite what Lord Eris is after, there are old allegiances and nuances even I don't understand."

"Those allegiances weren't enough to keep Eris from killing my father," I said.

"I know." Danton hesitated, turning a piece of cheese over in his hand. "But I believe my father is biding his time because he wants to bring his brother back."

"He'll be biding his time until there's no world to bring Tiernan back to. We're already at war, and I met your uncle. Tiernan is Eris's man through and through. There's no bringing him
back
."

Danton was quiet a long moment. "I know that."

"Is that why your father hasn't handed over the unity stone, then? Because he
has
to know by now his hope for Tiernan is futile, but maybe…maybe he also realizes how dangerous and unstable Eris is—even without the power of the unity stone?"

Danton's eyes lifted to mine. "For not living here very long, you certainly infer a lot."

"I was thrown into this game, and I'm just trying to understand it so I can survive…like I think you are. But what I can't understand is
you
, Danton." I leaned toward him, staring him straight in the eyes. "You were so nice when I first met you. You were open and honest, and I truly believed you understood what I was going through and what I was up against."

"That wasn't a lie, Daria—"

I cut him off. "You left me to die during the games." He'd left me to die twice, actually. First, when I followed Cicero's compass and found Vera being attacked by Unseen. Second, on top of that snowy peak, as an avalanche came thundering down. "How am I supposed to trust you?"

"I didn't leave you to die." His voice was quiet.

"You left me in the middle of nowhere on Hell's Peak, knowing clearly that I was lost—"

"No, I knew you'd find the way," he interrupted.

"How could you possibly know that?" My voice rose with my anger. "I didn't even know that!"

"I knew…" He swallowed, wincing as if he were forcing down a bite that'd turned rotten. "I knew
he
was there, and that he'd find you. I knew you'd be all right."

I searched his face. "You mean Alex."

Danton's eyes narrowed a shade, and his hatred flushed through me. He hated Alex.

"Yes," he said. "I knew he was there."

"How?"

"Right before Hell's Peak, my father discovered Alexander Del Conte was on that mountain. I don't know how he found out—he has eyes and ears everywhere. But I knew if Alexander Del Conte was there, it was because of you. I'd been waiting for you, on the other side of the wall. Hoping we could find the stone together, but then you wanted to run off in the wrong direction. I couldn't risk someone else getting to the stone before I did, Daria. I had to get it," he said through clenched teeth, "and knowing he was near was my consolation you'd be all right."

"That doesn't change the fact that you abandoned me for a
rock
."

"Do you have any idea what my father would have done to me had I not taken that stone? I didn't have a choice!"

"We always have a choice!"

Danton turned his face from me, fuming as his jaw worked over. "No." His voice was so low it trembled. "We don't always have a choice, and I would think
you
of all people might understand that." He looked up at me from beneath his pale brow, those eyes a sharp, icicle blue.

He was reminding me of my "choice" to marry him.

I'd opened my mouth to retort, but then closed my lips and sat back on my cushion with a slow exhale. "What about Steerforth?"

"What about Steerforth?"

I narrowed my eyes, remembering the sight of Steerforth's dead body lying in the snow. "You murdered him—"

"I did
not
murder him." His voice was hard as granite. "That was done by members of the shadowguard. I didn't see it happen…I swear. Steerforth was dead when I reached him, and I wasn't about to linger knowing shadowguard were near. I didn't mean to sound so callous about it on the mountaintop, but I was angry and, perhaps, a little frightened myself. I know it's no excuse, but that's the truth. I never much cared for Steerforth, but I never would have wished that fate upon him."

I searched his face and his emotions, looking for any signs of contradiction, but he wasn't lying to me, as far as I could tell. "All right," I said, "but that still doesn't change the fact that you left me to die, in the middle of an avalanche. With the shadowguard."

I could still see those black figures on the mountaintop. I could see Alex and Vera and Ehren, all of us fighting together to hold them off while the mountain trembled and banks of snow collapsed all around us. Danton had conveniently vanished with Kenley Vega and the unity stone. If it weren't for the vox, we never would've made it out of there alive.

"You weren't going to die," he said.

"What, do you own the golden scissors to my string of fate?" I folded my arms over my chest. "Or maybe you were just scared and saving your own skin."

He scowled. "Believe it or not, I happen to be
very
well acquainted with the people you were with at the time, and I knew that with their combined talents, there was no way they'd let anything happen to you."

This was so frustrating. I couldn't argue his points if all of his points were founded on his intuition. So I decided to let his circumstantial cowardice slide and approach this from a different angle.

"And why is it your father wanted the unity stone so badly in the first place?"

Danton leaned back on his hands—still fuming as he stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. "Insurance."

"For?"

"Having a place in this war."

"That doesn't make any sense. He seems so keen on keeping out of it."

"I'm not talking about having a place on the battle field. Father wants to make sure he has a place in whichever regime survives, and if that means possessing an object of indeterminate value, highly coveted by both sides, he'll do anything for it. He's a practical man."

"What about you?" I asked. "Are you a
practical
man, Lord Danton Pontefract?"

He stared into my eyes for so long, I didn't think he was going to answer. But then he did, and his voice came out so quietly, I strained to hear it. "I'm not sure what I am. But I am not my father."

I waited for him to continue, but he abruptly sat up and sliced more cheese while my thoughts whirled in a thousand directions. He'd shared a lot with me, but at the same time he'd shared nothing at all. I guessed I could be thankful for his honesty, or at least honest as he saw it. Sometimes people told themselves a lie so often it eventually became their truth. Maybe this was the case with Danton. He really didn't see himself as guilty of any of the accusations I'd thrown at him. He saw himself only as a victim surviving in his given circumstances. Did any of this mean I could trust him? I still wasn't sure. It depended on the kind of man Danton wanted to be, and he'd just admitted he didn't know who that was.

I watched him handle the knife and cheese. His hands were much smaller than Alex's, his pale fingers delicate and refined, but his movements were sharp and quick. He didn't speak as he moved to a log of what looked like salami, cutting off bits and dividing them between us. When he handed me a few chunks, I thanked him, but he only nodded in response. He made himself a perfect bite of cheese, salami, and bread, and shoved the whole thing into his mouth, afterward washing it down with an impressive gulp of wine.

He broke the silence after he swallowed. "I thought you were hungry."

"Hm?"

He waved a hand at my untouched food. "You haven't eaten anything."

I'd been so lost in my thoughts I'd forgotten I was starving. I arranged a bite, stacking the elements as he'd done, but before I shoved it in my mouth, I paused to glance back at him. He was staring at one of the windows with a far-off look in his eyes. His anger had cooled some, and in its place something else had settled. Something cold and bitter. Something that looked very close to the Danton on Hell's Peak.

I decided I should say something to lift the mood. Danton was my only friend here, if I could even call him a friend. But I needed to keep him on my side.

"I appreciate you honoring your promise and being honest with me, Danton," I said. "I really do. And I appreciate you bringing dinner."

He glanced sideways at me, his eyes flickering over my face. The fire reflected brightly in them. "I told you I would, and despite what you may think of me, I am good to my word."

I thumbed my glass again. "I'm still trying to figure out what I think, but…I believe you—what you said. I'm not sure I agree with your reasons, but I believe you're being honest with me. I can work with that." I stared down at the flames, aware of him watching me, and I shoved a bite in my mouth. The cheese was sharp, with a slight smoky flavor, and the salami…well, I couldn't taste much beyond the pepper, and the bread was so gooey I had a hard time swallowing it all. I picked up my glass of wine to wash it all down. The combined flavors complimented one another well, and the bubbles in the wine helped quench the hot sparks on my tongue—compliments of the pepper.

"Did you…have a real choice in entering the games?" I asked.

A full breath passed before he said, "No."

"May I ask another question?"

"Yes."

I looked back at him. "Why don't you like Alex?" It was a risk asking this—I knew it. But it was one thing I couldn't figure out. Why simple mention of one man to the other elicited such hatred. Had something happened between the two of them? Or maybe Alex didn't like Danton because he was intended for me. That, I could understand, but why would Danton harbor any animosity toward Alex?

Danton hadn't expected this question. His surprise and discomfort flared before he hid it behind that inscrutable mask. If I'd blinked, I would've missed it, and now his face was stone cold. Rooftop Danton was gone. Hell's Peak Danton took his place.

"Why do you assume I don't like him?" His tone was equally chilled.

"I don't need to assume. I can feel it. I'm a Pandor, remember?"

His lips thinned, and he picked up his glass and took a long, slow draught before setting it down. He continued staring at his glass as he said, "That's a difficult question for me to answer, Daria." He glanced back at me. "Why do you ask?"

I hesitated, fingering a piece of cheese. "I'm not sure. It just seems strange you both have such strong inclinations toward one another when you're in very different political circles. He's an aegis to the crown and you're the heir of Orindor. I could see why an aegis might not like a lord, but I've known Alex all my life and he's never been one to dislike a person over petty things like titles and privilege."

"No, of course he's not," Danton said more to himself. "He is always a man of utmost integrity, isn't he." The statement was rhetorical, and his tone was definitely sour.

"I wasn't comparing, Danton, I was just—"

"I'd rather not talk about him, if that's all right with you." He took another sip then set his cup down again, looking back at me. "I will be honest with you, Daria, just as I promised. I will tell you everything I can. As I said before, I am not my father. I may inherit his territory—if there's any territory left after this bloody war—but I did not inherit his methods of leadership, just as I did not inherit his view of marriage. I want an equal by my side. I want
you
. You help me see another way, Daria, just as you did that night on the rooftops. You've no idea what that night meant to me, and how I think on it still. For so long I'd feared I'd lost that piece of myself. The part that's good and honest. The part that hopes. Gaia knows I've tried filling that void in other ways, but you…you gave me hope, just as you do now. That I don't need to be like my father. That I can be a better man."

He reached out and placed his hand over mine. "I promise I will be good to you—love you. I know you don't love me now, and I hope I'll earn that love someday." He stared straight into my eyes, all tenderness suddenly gone. "But I never want to hear you speak of Alexander Del Conte in my presence again. Am I clear?"

This was the piece of Lord Pontefract that had left an irretrievable mark on his son. This was where Danton would fasten his unforgiving vice. I could feel his resolve, and there was no shattering it. To try would pit him against me, which would mean certain death for me.

I held his gaze a long, silent moment, before whispering, "Yes. Very clear."

9

ALEXANDER

T
he Leonardo da Vinci di Fiumicino airport was complete chaos. On top of that, Thaddeus tugged my sleeve every two seconds to ask the five "Ws," shaving my already-thin patience down to a hair. I thanked the spirits we weren't allowed to carry our weapons. Otherwise, I might have skewered Thaddeus and left him on the curb as a gift for the Italian Mafia.

Vera's heels clicked with power as we walked, garnering us so much attention I felt as if we were on parade. However, her high-fashion executive façade proved helpful when I had trouble finding the correct line for our flight.

"Vera, would you mind asking that gentleman over there where the Delta line is?" I handed over her ticket. "If you forget, just show him this."

She looked bemused, but took her ticket and powered over to the airport personnel. She quickly returned, escorted by no fewer than three Italian guards, and I might have been concerned by this had they not been trailing her like hopeless puppies.

"Spirits," Thaddeus said beside me. "That man in front looks like he wants to put her in his pocket and take her home."