Thorns of Decision (Dusk Gate Chronicles) (31 page)

When the two boys, Kevin and Blake, lost interest in the game of catch, William suggested they take turns practicing keeping a crumple goal, and he wandered back toward Quinn.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting down next to her.

She shrugged, holding up a string of small pink flowers with the stems tied together. “Arianna’s looking for these ones so I can make a necklace for her.”

He took the chain of flowers and laid them gently across his palm. “These are ameliorosa blossoms,” he said.

“Okay,” she shrugged again. “They’re pretty.”

Arianna ran up to them then, carrying three more. George toddled behind her, his hands full of several different kinds of flowers, and two kinds of weeds as well. “Pwity!” he declared.

“Yes, they are, George, thank you,” Quinn said, taking them and then watching the two children run off again.

William watched her stare absently at the little girl, a lump coming to his throat as he realized that Arianna was about the same age as Quinn had been when she lost her own father. He reached to take her hand.

She turned to look at him. “So, what kind of flower is it?”

He glanced down at the blossoms she was adding to the small chain. “Ameliorosa. Also known as the healing flower,” he said, pulling his pendant out from under his shirt, and showing her the flower engraved there.

A strange look crossed Quinn’s face for just a moment as she looked at his necklace. He saw her take a deep breath and compose herself before she answered.

“Why are they called that?”

He wanted to ask her what that was all about, but he had a feeling now wasn’t the right time. Last night, as they’d walked back to the campsite, he’d asked her again how the confrontation with her mom had gone, but she’d changed the subject in a way that let him know she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Something about her reaction now felt the same way.

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “the flowers have many healing qualities. The petals can be crushed into a salve that’s good for rashes and injuries, and the stems and leaves can be brewed into a tea that helps with cold symptoms.”

She still seemed distracted as she nodded and looked down at the flowers. “Is it okay to be letting her pick them?”

He smiled. “Sure. They’re everywhere. If they weren’t such useful flowers, we’d probably call them weeds. My little sisters love to pick them, too. They’ll make huge bouquets and then leave them in piles on all of the counters and tables to wilt and crumble and make a mess.”

That got her to smile. “Good. I just didn’t want to be making the same kind of mistake I did last time I tried picking flowers in Eirentheos.”

His stomach made a tiny flip at that memory. “Nope. Only shadeweed is poisonous, and you know that one now. The rest of the plants and flowers are fair game.” He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. He was relieved when he felt her relax against him. “Are you doing okay?” he asked softly, his face still close to hers.

“Yeah, just sad for them,” she said, looking back toward the children. “And mad that someone would do something like this. What did they do to deserve that?”

There wasn’t an answer to her question, the same one that had been plaguing him all night. Not knowing any other way to respond, he picked up her hand and pulled it into his lap, and they sat in silence, watching the children play in the sun.

*          *          *

It was late in the afternoon before Quinn ever got a chance to speak with Nathaniel privately. The king and queen had arrived shortly after breakfast, along with Max, Evelyn, Howard, Rebecca, and Linnea, and everyone had been busy most of the day.

Although there had been several offers of help, Nathaniel insisted that he wanted to prepare Eldon’s body himself. Stephen and Charlotte were going to take care of the funeral arrangements, and have Eldon buried in the large cemetery just outside the boundaries of the capitol city. Eldon’s body would need to be moved there.

When Nathaniel finally emerged from the tent, Quinn was the only one who saw him. She hadn’t been aware of how determinedly she’d been waiting, her senses on alert, wanting to seize the first opportunity she had to speak with him, but as soon as he walked around the back of the tent, heading toward the edge of the campsite and the nearby woods, she let the plate she was washing slide back in to the wooden bucket, and followed him.

William, who was a few feet away from her, digging through a large crate of medical supplies that had been recovered from the clinic, glanced up when she stood. She shook her head at him, holding up a finger in a “wait” gesture. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t follow.

Nathaniel didn’t turn around until they were far away from everyone, nearly to the tree line, although from the way he’d slowed, she could tell he knew she was behind him. When he finally did turn to face her, she was startled at his expression, at how devastated he was, at the unreleased tears that pooled in the corners of his eyes.

“You knew him well,” she said quietly.

“I did once,” he answered. “When we were very young.”

She didn’t press him for more information, sensing that he would tell her more, once the words came. He started walking again, down into the trees, and she followed along, just behind him, down through the trees and to the edge of a stream.

Kneeling down at the edge of the stream, Nathaniel dipped his hands in the clear water and pulled them up to wash his face. Quinn sat down on the bank a couple of feet away, watching quietly, studying her uncle’s reflection in the water.

When he was finished washing, Nathaniel collapsed onto the ground, clearly distraught and exhausted. “I’m sorry, Quinn,” he said.

“What would you be sorry for? You didn’t do anything.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. I didn’t do anything.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, frowning.

“I mean that sometimes it’s really hard for me to know if I made the right decision – leaving my home the way I did, hiding out in your world for all of these years, supporting Samuel in his choice to hide out, too, not pushing him to come back and take what was rightfully his.”

“You could have been killed if you’d stayed.”

“That’s what we told ourselves, but who knows if that’s really what would have happened. It’s a lot harder to get away with murdering two princes than the innocents who are trying to protect them.”

“Hector and Tolliver seem to have managed.”

“And so successfully, too.”

Quinn blinked; she’d never heard Nathaniel use a sarcastic tone before. “You know what I mean,” she said.

“I know what you mean. But the fact is that neither Samuel or I
did
die at Hector’s hands. I’m alive and well, and he likely would be too, if he’d stayed here, in this world.”

She swallowed hard – she’d never thought about that.

“And in the meantime, Quinn … other people have died, protecting
our
secrets, fighting
our
battles.”

“Who was Eldon Hardridge?”

Nathaniel sighed. “Eldon’s parents were two of the earliest members of the Friends of Philip. They knew that Samuel hadn’t really died. Eldon and I were close to the same age. We were the youngest ones at those meetings…”

A tingling sensation ran up her spine, and her eyes widened. “So was Eldon …”

“Yes, Quinn. Eldon was there the night that I “died” in that house fire in Philotheum. His home was the safe house we all fled to.”

Nausea tore through her stomach; she had to put her head in her hands to steady herself as questions and ideas collided in her mind. When she finally looked back up at Nathaniel, his eyes were wide, concerned.

“I don’t suppose there’s a high chance that it’s all just coincidence, then, that the Hardridges’ home was burned down in Philotheum, or that someone was desperate enough to follow him all the way here to finish the job.” She had to choke out the words, could barely hear her own voice over the pounding of blood in her ears.

Nathaniel inhaled sharply. “I’ve said before that it would be a mistake to underestimate you, Quinn. You are Samuel’s daughter every inch.”

“So what do you think it means, Nathaniel?”

“I would have to know more to be sure, but my biggest worry is that it means there are people who know about me who shouldn’t, and that anyone in the Friends of Philip who might be able to confirm my existence is in serious danger.”

“Why? Why would it matter?”

“Because if people have knowledge about me – or worse, knowledge that Samuel didn’t die in Philotheum, then there is a direct threat to Tolliver taking the throne. If enough people knew there was a rightful heir, then everything Tolliver is working toward would fall apart.”

“But there is a rightful heir.” Quinn’s voice shook on each word.

“Is there?”

“You’re up early.” The sound of William’s voice startled Quinn as she walked into the common room. It
was
early, she supposed. A faint glow had just begun to peek over the edge of the horizon when she’d looked out her window a few minutes before.

“So are you,” she countered, raising an eyebrow.

“A little late, actually. I usually make myself a mug of tea and take it outside in time for the sunrise. Not that there’s been anything
usual
about anything lately.”

“That’s for sure.” Quinn had been back in Eirentheos for five days now, and life at the castle had been anything but normal. “So what’s the hold up today that you’re running so late?”

He walked over to her and reached out to her, leaning in to kiss her cheek as he took her hands in his. “Nothing. I was just waiting for you, actually.”

She raised her eyebrow. “Then why did you sound so surprised when I came in here?”

“I just figured you would want to sleep in,” he said, shrugging. “You’ve been so busy lately, and this is the first day since you’ve been back that there’s not something going on ...”

There had been something to do all day every day since she’d been back. Yesterday had been Eldon Hardridge’s funeral, and last night they’d taken Connie and the children back to the Welshes’ farm. Marcus, using connections within the Friends of Philip, had managed to locate Connie’s younger brother and his wife in Philotheum and had brought them safely over the border two days ago – they were all together now.

Quinn had been tense ever since her conversation with Nathaniel; the weight of the decision that she faced was like a pile of bricks in her stomach. She still wasn’t ready to tell William, or anyone, about what she had learned.

Forcing the thought out of her mind yet again, she looked over at him. “I don’t normally sleep in very late, either – when I actually sleep at all.”

The almost-lighthearted look on his face changed to one of concern at her words. “Did you sleep last night? Have you been dreaming again?”

She shook her head. “I did sleep last night,” she said, rubbing his hand in hers. “Surprisingly, I haven’t been dreaming at all since I got back.”

His eyes widened; he looked as surprised as she’d felt when she first realized that. It had been a long time since she’d had more than one consecutive night without being plagued by the odd dreams.

The kettle on the wood stove whistled just then, and William walked over and poured the boiling water into two travel mugs that were sitting on the counter. She smiled. It was always so odd to see the little objects here and there that William or Nathaniel had so obviously brought back with them from her world. It was an odd contrast to watch him pull an old-fashioned-looking tin kettle from the wood-burning stove, and pour the water from it into two stainless steel travel mugs with vacuum lids. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to it.