Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) (20 page)

"Who better to emulate?"

"But why me? Why not just have you be King and let me stay like everyone else?"

"Because you are not like everyone else. You are my sister. We share the same blood, and if I am to be lifted on high, you must be there with me."

"I don't want to rule."

"You won't have to. I will do that. I just want you and Travis to be taken care of, treated the way you deserve to be treated. You two are special, don't let anyone tell you any different."

He leaves me then, with nothing more than a peck on the cheek. I have played out meeting him in my head for months, and this was nothing like I had hoped it would be. He spoke of affection for me but his manner was removed, cold even. I asked for a connection to our past, but all he could do was stare wild eyed into the future.  My heart is telling me to cling to him, to find a way to become closer to my family, but my head is telling me to run, far and fast.

KATHERINE

I would like to say our return to Veracity was pleasant, but as expected, we are met with stares and whispers. My clever brother took the liberty of packing up all of our "unsuitable" clothing while we were conducting interviews, and shipped them back home, ensuring that we would have nothing but gold laden outfits to arrive in.

Thankfully the carriage shielded us from the eyes of the regular citizens, but there was no way to hide from the people living and working in the Big House. Travis and I walk quickly to our rooms, unable to answer the questioning looks from those passing us in the hallway.  Lucas is going to have a rude awakening if he thinks dressing us up this way will go over well.  Already there is confusion and mistrust in the air.

A few door down from my suite, I have to stop and lean against the wall, closing my eyes against a rush of unease. Even this far away I can already hear Alana shouting. She quiets when I enter, but her seething rage is too great for her to hide, and for once I don't blame her. What on earth is all of this? 

An entire new wardrobe is laid out on every available surface. Gowns made of delicate gold fabric are draped on the back of chairs, across sofas, and spread out on the bed. Green shoes, belts, and pins litter the floor. Another wardrobe worth of gowns have been drug out from the dressing room, as Maggie tries to make space. Alana is doing her best to hold in her anger, but she is shaking with it as she storms into the bathroom. It must be hard for her to see all of this; the life she feels cheated of displayed so boldly in front of her. She hated me enough when I was just a lady, I can't imagine how she feels now that I might be something more.

"Maggie! Where did all of this come from?" I ask.

"Your brother dear. He had it brought over yesterday."

"I thought he was just sending my old clothing back. How long was he planning this? It would have taken forever to make this many new gowns."

"I heard that your beau has just as many new outfits strewn about his room as well."

"Oh Maggie, what am I going to do? I can't wear these clothes. I will look pompous. The people will hate me."

"I suppose you will have to take that up with the General. All I know is that I have been told to find room for all of this stuff. It hasn't been easy. I hate to throw out any of your old things; I made more than a few of them myself."

"This is going to be a disaster," I cry.

"Well there is nothing we can do about it now. Go ahead and go get that road dust off you while I try to organize this mess."

I have no desire to enter that bathroom, but etiquette demands I bathe and dress before dinner. Wading through the sea of clothes, I give Maggie a quick hug, and step into the bathroom; afraid of what manifestation Alana's anger will take. I am tempted to call Sadie but she looked so unwell when we arrived that I sent her to bed.  I knew I should have dismissed Alana before I left.

When I walk in she just glares at me before returning to her work. I slowly undo the pin and let my gown fall to the floor. Ignoring me, she fills the tub without even banging around like usual. Somehow, her fierce quietness is ten times worse than her yelling. Screaming and name-calling I can handle, I've done that before; this silence is frighteningly unfamiliar.

I step in the tub, a thick layer of anxiety rolling over me as I slip into the water. The strong sent of jasmine saturates the air as I lay my head back on the side of the tub. Alana moves around the room in my peripheral vision. I ache to turn my head and keep an eye on her but I worry about offending her. Should I say something? Should I reopen our discussion about her leaving my service? Should I ask her if she is okay? Tell her I heard her screaming before I walked into the room?

"Alana, I want you to know that I never asked for any of this. No one ever cared how I felt or asked me for my opinion. I know you feel like I cheated you, but I swear I didn't intend for any of this to happen."

"Poor little princess," she sneers. "Forced into a perfect life. Yeah I feel real sorry for you."

"I am not asking for your pity. I am trying to make things better between us."

"There is nothing between us!" she screams. "You are royalty, and I am a servant, and nothing is going to change that!"

She grabs me by my hair and pushes my head under the water. I am able to pull myself out just long enough to scream, taking in a mouthful of water before my head is slammed back under. Struggling to free myself, I fight her grip, but I can't find any leverage to force my way out. My feet slip against the bottom of the tub, as I desperately try to find some traction to push myself up again. I try going further under, hoping her grip will loosen, but she has wrapped her fingers in my hair, using her weight to keep me under. I claw at her hands with my fingernails, ripping away skin. Her blood flows into the water but she just holds me down harder. Panic sets in. Only a few seconds have passed, and already my lungs are burning. I can feel my chest contracting, trying to force me to take in air. My head starts to spin and I feel myself slipping away.

Realizing I can't fight her, I go limp, hoping she will think she has won. Her strong hands slack just a fraction, but it's too late. The darkness is pulling against me as I start to lose consciousness. A series of faces flash through my mind as I go under: Jack, Travis, Lucas . . . Grayson.

She leans over the tub grinning at me through the water. She knows I am dying. With my last few seconds of life, I shoot my hand up and grab her hair, yanking her down toward me. She pulls back some, but not enough to clear the tub. Her face smashes against the porcelain side, a river of blood pouring from her nose. And then I'm gone. The darkness wraps around me and pulls me under.

I see my mother's face in the black. Her cool hand feels soft against my burning flesh as she caresses my cheek. I try to reach for her, but my arms are weighted and refuse to move. She slips away from me, pulled further and further into the darkness.

Somewhere miles away, I hear a muffled crash. Alana's hands are ripped away and I am hauled from the water. Lying naked on the cold tile floor, I struggle to catch my breath, the air clawing its way in with painful force. I don't have the strength to move, so I just lie there watching Alana's blood drip down the side of the tub. A blanket is thrown around me, and an angry shriek rips through the air, fading away as Alana is dragged from the room.

I rest my face against the tile and let the tears fall. Adrenaline courses through my body and I begin to shake. My tears turn into heaving sobs, as horrified shouts and gasps of disbelief fill the room around me.

Then Grayson is there, cradling me against his body as I cry. He pushes my wet hair from my face and holds me tight against him. I can feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest as we cry together.

"You were so still," he says. "I thought you were dead. Maggie heard you cry out, but the door was locked. She ran out into the hall screaming, and I was the first person she found. I had to break through the door."

"It was you," I say. "Of course it was you, it has always been you."

"I can't do this anymore," he says, gritting his teeth. "I don't care what happens, they can't keep me away from . . ."

His words fade away as I black out.

GRAYSON

Alana's wild, red hair is a mass of tangled curls, her clothes and face grimy from her night in confinement. She glares at me from across the table, the space between us thick with malice.

"Do you admit to trying to kill Katherine?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I demand.

"I hate her."

"You know the punishments for assault and murder. Why would you do such a thing when you know there is no way for you to deny it?"

"She took my life, so I deserve to take hers. I wanted to see his face when he saw her lifeless eyes. I wanted him to taste death when he kissed her lips. I hate them both, and my hate is stronger than any love I have for myself."

"You were willing to die?"

"Without question."

"You have been honest, so you have the choice of execution or taking your own life, although if it were up to me, you wouldn't have that honor. I would rip you apart with my bare hands if I could."

"Then you are no better than I am."

"The fact that you are still breathing proves we are nothing alike."

"It just proves you are weak. You are all too weak for this world," she says.

"Make your choice," I demand, leaning forward.

"I'm not letting you people take anything else from me.  I will die with dignity."

We walk in a silent line to the northeast corner of the wall. This section was built on a natural cliff face overlooking the roaring river below. The river is a fundamental part of our lives, providing water, food, and the means to wash the evils in our city clean. Narrow steps are carved into the wall allowing us access to the top. Even in their earliest days, the Seven planned for the death of its people.

The smell of water and wildflowers drift through the air as Alana slowly makes her way up the steps. As she climbs, her hair and the thin material of her gown flow around her in the wind. She faces her death head on, her expression one of grim determination. Although able to measure the length of her life in footsteps, she seems strangely calm.

Katherine shouldn't be here, but she insisted. She stands with Travis, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. My father stands at the base of the stairs, his arms crossed and shoulders squared. He is not enjoying this, more proof that deep down he isn't as hard a man as he pretends to be.

Amber isn't in the small crowd, too overcome with grief to bear witness to her cousin's death. I imagine her grief is tinged with guilt, considering this was, at least in part, her doing. She made promises she couldn't keep, and out of jealousy and spite she brought Alana here, setting her loose on Kat.

"Last words?" my father grunts.

"Freedom," she says. "Over that ledge is the only freedom a girl like me will ever have. Free from pain. Free from hate," she looks at Kat, "This is the only real choice I have ever made for myself."

She looks at us, pausing for a few seconds on each face. Turning, she opens her arms wide as if embracing the sky. Taking a deep breath, she steps off the wall, plunging into the rocky river below.

For several weeks, life is quite at the Big House, everyone needing a little time to process Alana's death. Amber still mourns her, and surprisingly the General has been kind, if not gentle, to his guilt torn wife.

The two of them came to me not long after the execution, the General stern as always, and Amber a mess of tears. They sat together in my sitting room, Amber's wrist secured against the General's, the slender band of truth nestled between them.

"Did you know Alana planned to hurt Katherine?" he demanded.

"No," she wailed. "I knew she would be trouble, but I never thought she would be awful enough to actually hurt her. I'm so sorry!"

The bracelet hums and grows silent.

"Katherine," she sniffs, "Please believe me when I say that I would never wish actual harm on you or anyone else. I know I'm a brat, and it is something I promise I will work on, but I'm not evil. What Alana did is unforgivable, and I am so sorry that my spiteful nature brought this on."

I was stunned, and still am. Surprised as I was, forgiveness in the face of so much regret was not hard to give, and the three of us were able to find a sense of peace after her confession.

Amber is not the only person changed by Alana's execution. Sadie seems to be languishing here in the suite after having so much freedom. She still is sick often, and has become so pale. I have been ordering more fresh fruit and vegetables for her, and all but force her to sit on the balcony for at least an hour a day, but still her natural glow seems dulled. She assures me that she is fine, blaming her condition on allergies of all things.

Then there is Grayson who has stepped up his stalking game. If I had questions about him seeming to be near me often, they have been answered as he is now my regular shadow. Even though the threat is gone, I can feel the tension building inside him. He is still drinking heavily, and sometimes I find him fast asleep and snoring outside my door. I have talked to Travis about his behavior but he just brushes it off, convinced it is just the soldier in him, feeling the need to protect someone vulnerable. Grayson is a hero, he tells me. Until he is satisfied that I am no longer in danger, I should just humor him without getting involved. I would be more inclined to accept this answer if the danger hadn't already been dealt with.

It's a quiet morning, a few days into the first normal feeling week since Alana's death. I am sprawled out on one of the sofas, rereading one of my favorite books when Sadie walks into the room, dressed head to toe in black. I am so shocked to see her out of her customary beige; I drop my book, swearing when it hits the floor.

"Why aren't you dressed?" she asks.

"Dressed for what? Why are you wearing black?"

"The funeral. You forgot didn't you? Today is the funeral for Aunt Lola's mother."

"I forgot all about that, but I do want to go. Wait for me while I go ask Maggie if I have a black dress."

The best I can find is a dark green gown, but Maggie assures me it will work just fine. Running a comb quickly through my hair, I pin it back into a simple bun and we walk out of the Big House and into the city, only the second time I have been allowed on the streets. Thankfully the General has allowed me to forgo wearing the garish gold gowns, but still everywhere we go, the people watch me. They no longer try to mask their attention, openly staring as we go.

Sadie is in the middle of a story I've only been pretending to listen to, but when we pass the butcher shop she stops talking, slowing down to almost a crawl.

"What's wrong Sadie?" I ask her. "You look like you are about to be sick."

"It's just the smell of the meat is all, it's got my stomach tied up in knots."

"I don't even smell anything, are you sure you are okay?"

Barely five more steps and Sadie is vomiting in one of the alleys. She seems terrified, looking around wild eyed to see if anyone had seen her.

"Sadie, what is going on? I know something isn't right. You have been pale and sickly for weeks now. Have you seen a doctor?"

"I don't need to see a doctor," she whispers. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine. You have been falling asleep in the middle of the day, and you can't tell me that's normal because I know it's not."

"Kat, please stop."

"Why?"

"Because if you ask me, I am going to have to tell you."

"For Pete's sake Sadie, I'm asking you what is wrong! Why won't you tell me?"

"Because I went and did something stupid, and I don't need anyone finding out about it," she sighs, pulling me further down the alley. "I've messed up, Kat."

"Wait," I say incredulously, the pieces of the puzzle finally coming together, "Are you saying you're . . ."

"Don't say it!" she cries. "If you say it, I can't deny it."

"How could you be so stupid Sadie?"

"I don't know what you could possibly be talking about," she says giving me a pointed look before heading down the alley.

"Don't play with me, you've already all but said it. What will happen when you start to show?"

"If I don't have to lie when I am scanned I will go to the work camp, and the baby will go to the nursery. If I have to lie, I will be executed."

"Why on earth would you lie?"

"If they ask me who the father is, I will lie until my last breath. I will never give him up."

"I'm going to help you figure this out."

"The best thing you can do for me right now is forget you know anything about it.  I have to act normal, and so do you."

By the time we arrive, Sadie is acting like her old self, smiling at everyone, teasing her cousins, and terrorizing her grandfather. The two of us blend into the crowd and with the festivities, and it is almost possible to relax and forget. The farm is enticingly festive. Decorations and flowers have been hung throughout the yard, and a rag tag band plays in front of a makeshift dance floor. Lola's mother is taking full advantage of the party as well, dancing with all the boys and playing cards with the girls, flitting around to try and spend time with everyone. Her eyes light up when she sees Sadie, grabbing her and pulling her into a fierce hug.

"I'm glad you could make it Sadie-Girl," she says. "It wouldn't feel right to make the big trip without seeing you first."

"I wouldn't miss it," Sadie says. "This is Lady Katherine. Katherine, this is my Aunt's mother, Clarissa."

"It's nice to meet you," I say, taking her hand. "I appreciate the chance to share this with you."

"I am so sorry," she says, embarrassed, "but I can't remember how to address you. Is it your majesty now or just my lady? I just can't keep it straight."

"Honestly, neither can I," I say. "Please call me Katherine, or Kat for short."

"Well aren't you just a sweetheart," she says patting my hand.

Clarissa excuses herself and goes back to the party. It's in full swing now, people dancing and singing along to the music as kids run through the crowd, weaving in and out of the dancing couples. A long table has been pulled outside, and it is full of finger foods and cold drinks. A breeze kicks up, delivering the sweet smell of roses and cake. The colorful ribbons dance in the air, the leaves sway on the trees, and the crops wave back and forth in the wind. It looks as if the earth itself is celebrating.

I try to enjoy the party, but I can't stop obsessing over Sadie. She moves with such a friendly grace, and has a kind word for everyone she meets. She doesn't deserve what is going to happen to her. She is the single kindest person I have met here, and the thought of her stuck in a work camp, or worse, has my blood boiling. I wrack my brain trying to think up some way to save her. She mentioned once that lady's maids could marry. Could I find her a husband in enough time? Maybe we could run, go find Jack and see if he could help her. I push the thought away, though. How could she raise a baby out there in the wild, as terrible as it is?

The sun sets and the stars pop out one by one in the night sky. The music has slowed and the children have long been put to bed. Clarissa sits with her family around her, holding their hands and telling stories of their childhood. She seems so virile, so alive. It's a shame that she is being sent away from her family forever, based solely on her age. She looks up and catches my gaze, holding it, trying to communicate some silent thought to me. Keeping her eyes locked to mine, she raises her daughter's hand, kissing it as tears fall down her cheek. What does she want? Is this a plea for help? Does she think I have the power to stop this? Could I stop it?

The party ends, and we make the walk back to the Big House. Sadie is unusually quiet, and I suppose too much has been said for one day. The next morning after breakfast, Grayson finds me in the hall. He looks nervous, and his hands shake as he takes mine.

"Kat, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Of course, but are you okay? You look a little off."

"I'm fine, there is something I would like to talk to you about, and I am having a hard time figuring out how to say it."

"What is the matter?" I ask worried. Did he find out about Sadie? How could he have?

"Nothing is wrong, well not in the traditional sense, I just . . . need to talk to you and I am worried you will hate me for it."

"Grayson you aren't making any sense. What could you possibly have to say that I would hate you for?"

He looks up quickly as Laura, the General, and the old woman walk out of the breakfast room.

"We can't talk about it here," he says looking nervous. "Meet me tomorrow afternoon in the garden. We can take a carriage ride and I will explain everything then."

"Alright, I'll meet you tomorrow, but you do realize that I am going to worry over what you have to say until then."

"Please don't. Hopefully what I have to say will make you feel better, not worse," he says before kissing me on the cheek and walking away.

"Grayson was acting strange," Laura says as the trio pass.

"Yes he was," I say, rubbing my cheek.

"I wonder why?"

"I don't know, I suppose I will find out tomorrow."

"Hmmm . . . In my experience only love can make a boy look that nervous," Laura smiles.

"Do you think he has fallen in love again?" I ask confused. "Why would he want to talk to me about that?"

"Why indeed," the old woman croaks. "Please let the General and I know if my grandson is any trouble would you?"

"Of course," I say feeling uncomfortable. "Although I am sure he doesn't have anything to say to me that he wouldn't say to anyone else."

"Boys have their secrets," Laura grins.

"I am sure if the boy had a secret he wouldn't have made plans with her loud enough for us all to hear," the General grunts. "Leave the kids alone Laura. No need to stir up trouble where it doesn't exist."

The trio leaves me and I head back to my suite. Maggie, Sadie, and I start a card game once their work is finished for the day. Maggie orders snacks from the kitchen, and we stretch the game out as long as we can, laughing at each other's poor playing. It becomes a game in itself to purposely lose hands we could have won to prolong the tournament. Maggie and I both notice Sadie is avoiding the snacks like they were poisoned, even though they are her favorites. Maggie doesn't say anything but the shrewd look in her eye makes me nervous. Maybe I have less time to figure this out than I thought.

The game finally won, the two women head back to their quarters and I to mine. Changing into a long nightgown, I pull the many pins out of my hair, sighing in relief as it falls down around my shoulders. I am just about to crawl into bed when I hear a tapping on my balcony door. Letting out a squeak, I grab a candlestick, raising it above my head as Jack sticks his head into the room.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?" I whisper harshly.

"Saving you." he says, walking full into the room, looking around to make sure we are alone.

Grabbing me by the arm, Jack starts to drag me toward the door. I sit down like a child, crossing my arms and legs, refusing to move. Not fazed in the least by my show of defiance, he picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder. He starts to walk toward the door and I sink my teeth into his back. Howling, he shucks me to the floor.

"I am not going with you!" I cry.

"Yes you are. It's not safe for you to be here!"

He grabs me again, turning my back to him and pinning my arms around my waist. He lifts me off the floor with one strong arm, and pulls the door open with the other. What is he planning on doing, throwing me over the balcony?

I lift my feet, putting one on each side of the door jam, preventing him from taking me through. He tries to push, hoping to dislodge my feet in the process, but I hold strong and push back with my legs. He falls back, pulling me with him. We hit the floor hard, and I can hear the air being knocked out of him as I land against his chest.

"Someone has to have heard us," I say panting. "I am not going with you, and if you don't leave right now, you are going to get caught."

"It's . . . not . . . safe," he wheezes, trying to catch his breath. "They know."