Lies in Blood
Page 61

I turned and walked away, too, leaving it behind on the floor.
***
Despite personal grievances, neither David nor I let them get in the way of our duty to the people. We politely took the back seat when the other was standing before the Court, deciding the fate of lawbreakers, and it seemed we’d worked out an unspoken system for who ruled on what. David left the humanitarian cases up to me, and anything involving or requiring harsher punishments were left for him. But when those doors closed at the back of the Throne Room and Court had ended for the day, cold, dark David returned, speaking no words to me. I’d turned and offered him a smile—a kind of truce, but he did not accept. He just checked my finger to see that I’d obeyed him and, once satisfied, hurried from the room.
I didn’t even bother to tell him I left the ring on the floor in the kitchen where he threw it. I didn’t have the heart to touch it again, not when it now symbolised so many mistakes and so much heartache. Someone would find it and return it to me, and I could play dumb—say I’d lost it when I was washing my hands. But at least, for now, I didn’t have to tell anyone David forbid me to wear it. And the lie—losing it—was easier to carry than the truth. Then again, maybe I should have picked it up and kept it in my pocket. It’d only been three days since my confession. I couldn’t really expect miracles. The fact that we could rule with civility between us was divine intervention enough.
I rolled onto my back, fluffing my pillows under my head, then just laid watching the sky outside change from black to dark blue—the stars slowly fading out group by group until dawn was on the horizon. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to walk out and meet with Mother Nature this morning. Although it always recharged me, made me feel as though I’d slept when I hadn’t, or that I was well when I felt ill, I just didn’t feel as if I could be bothered. I went there day after day, trying to find a way to stop David using the dagger on Drake, but the mother only seemed to want to talk about Jason. I thought maybe Jase was the answer, the key to saving David, but I just didn’t know how. Then again, maybe she wasn’t all that concerned about losing David. Maybe she was trying to tell me I should be with Jason. Who knew? I was never really good at riddles.
“Ara?”
I sat bolt upright, searching the darkness for the voice when, across the sitting room, a creaky door slammed shut and someone whispered profanity at the sudden loud noise.
“Jase? Is that you?”
“Yeah.” A lamp came on beside him. He stood there by the secret entrance beside the fireplace, his charmingly sheepish smile sending the jitters and ghosts of my instant reaction away.
I flopped back for a second and breathed out. “You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s almost dawn.” He nodded to the window. “Figured you’d be headed out for your usual walk soon.”
“I—” I sat up and hugged my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them “I wasn’t planning on going today.”
“Why not?” he asked, strolling over, with both hands concealing something behind his back.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“David never really had a great life. I mean, neither of you did.”
“And?” He sat down beside me, making the bed dip a little, as if he were human and gravity had any bearing on him.
“He’s a good king. He loves what he does, and he. . .”
“You still don’t want him to die for you, do you?”
I shrugged. “Seems pointless. There’s never gonna be a baby now, so…”
“That’s not it, Ara,” Jason said. “He’s not doing this to protect the child. He’s doing it because he’s got nothing left to live for.”
“He has a monarchy. He has his uncle. I—”
“You don’t get it.” He smiled at me, making all his lovely white teeth visible. “He hasn’t got you.”
I thought about that for a second. “I understand that. But why does he care? He doesn’t want me anymore.”
“It’s . . . he’s lost faith. He never believed in happiness until he found you, Ara. And now that’s gone, he thinks he’ll never find it again. He doesn’t really see any reason to stick around.”
“Well, he doesn’t get to make that decision.”
“Try to stop him,” Jase said, and we both smirked, shaking our heads.
“He’s impossible, isn’t he?”
“You didn’t have to grow up with him.”
I laughed out through my nose, then nodded at the package behind his back. “So, what you got there?”
“Gift?”
“What kind of gift?”
“For you,” he said, presenting it with a nod of his head.
I took it in my lap and considered it for a second: it was square, fat, velvet-red, all bound neatly with a silky black ribbon. “What is it?”
“Open it, silly.”
The knot slipped apart like water over glass, and fell away from the velvet with only one small pull.
“I thought you could wear it when you go walking in the forest, rather than trying to find your clothes again every time,” Jase explained. “It’s bright, easy to see, and I figure you can hang it off a branch or something.”
I held up the cloth and my mouth opened in shock as it unravelled in heavy layers. “It’s . . . Jase, it’s beautiful.”
“Wanna try it on?”
“I’d love to.”
He stood up and took the cloak, holding it out for me. I wriggled out from under my warm covers and pulled my nightdress down over my undies, turning my back so he could cloak me. And it wrapped my shoulders like a blanket, kind of heavy and warm, with that new fabric smell to it, as if it’d just come from the tailor.
“It’s perfect, Jase.” I turned around to face him.
He tied the ribbon up just under my collarbones, drawing the hood over my head after. “And it’ll keep you warm, too, when it gets colder out.”
I looked up at him from under the cloak, changing the smile in his eyes. “Thank you, Jase.”
“You’re welcome, Ara.” He leaned in and kissed my head, then pulled away as if gravity were forcing us together. “I’ll see ya later, okay?”
“Okay.”
I watched him leave through the secret door, standing in the darkness of a dawning day as if I could slow it down or make it go away. This one would be like the next, and so on and so on, until, one day, David would take that dagger and kill Drake, and I would wake up to the rising sun, but I’d never really see the light again. David didn’t want to live now that he’d lost hope. And I didn’t want to live in a world without him.
There was only one way to solve this issue now—one way I could save David. If there was no contract, Drake wouldn’t be a threat. And if there was no me, there could be no contract.
I tossed the cloak aside and ripped my clothes off.
The solution had been staring me in the face the whole time. He didn’t need to die if there was nothing to die for. He could have the life he always wanted. It would be my gift to him for saving me from the darkness I sunk into all those years ago after I lost my mom—the same darkness I’d never really escaped. I owed him this much. For all the pain I’d caused him, and for all the love I would eternally feel for him, I at least owed him a future as king.
***
Quaid stood as I opened my door. “Morning, Ara.”
“Morning, Quaid.”
“Off for your dawn walk?”
“Yup.” I closed my door, fastening the cloak around my naked body. “You can head off for a coffee break, if you like.”
He stuffed his phone in his pocket and flashed me a toothy grin. “I’ll see ya in an hour.”
“Yeah.” I tried to smile. “See ya then. Oh, and, Kumar?”
He’d taken leave quite eagerly, but when I addressed him like that, he stopped and very slowly turned around to face me. “Yeah.”
“Could you hold onto this for me?” I reached into the little side pocket and pulled out a small handwritten note. “I was going to give it to Jason later, but I don’t want to lose it in the forest.”
He took the note and thumbed the edge, his eyes staying on it. “What is it?”
“Just a letter,” I said casually and walked past him, holding my head high, even though I just wanted to break apart inside. Of all the people I was leaving behind, I knew it would hurt Jase the most. I didn’t know who to write a farewell letter to, but I knew anything I wanted to say to anyone I cared about would be passed on by Jason. He was the only one I could truly trust. And I knew I could trust Quaid to give it to him.
The red cloak brought me comfort as I glided like frost over the slated floors toward the Throne Room, passing beneath the cold arches of the manor, blending with the blue shadows of dawn. The words to my letter moved across my lips like a prayer, travelling with the hopes that each farewell would find its recipient. Especially David. There were few words I could offer him as goodbye, and not once did I use the word ‘sorry.’ He knew, deep down, that I was sorry and that what I did would slowly and surely have destroyed me more than it did him. I didn’t need to tell him that. One day, centuries from now, when he found someone else to love, he would wake and realise all that I would have said anyway. Only then would it mean he was ready to listen.
The great Throne Room doors opened gracefully, as if welcoming my footfalls to the road ahead. Here, I began my journey home again. Here, I would farewell my past and all the mistakes, and move forward. Finally free.
I left the cloak at the base of the hill outside and entered the forest in my pure form, closing my eyes and feeling the energy of Nature guide me, gliding through the base of the trees like wind at my feet. It moved me forward quickly, sending word a breath ahead that I was on my way home—that I was coming to return to the place we all once began.
“Spirits of the forest,” I whispered, “Show me how to return to that which created me.”
The world went silent, the breeze dying away with the song of birds, and the leaves in the trees coming to a standstill, all waiting as if holding their breath, watching as the spirit of Mother Earth made herself known in this place. I closed my eyes and imagined her there by the Stone up ahead, with open arms welcoming me.
And I knew what to do—as if her voice itself whispered the answer in my ear.
One foot over the other, I walked at a pace respectful to the flow and ease of all things living, existing, breathing this world of life in the rhythm of Nature. And as I came upon the Stone, fell to my knees and swiped a nail tip across the centre of my palm, drawing blood to the surface of my skin. She wanted it back—Mother who guarded the gateway between worlds. One must offer blood for anything asked of this Stone. I understood that now. Life, knowledge, magic: all of it could be mine for the exchange of this substance inside me that was connected more richly to the earth at our feet than this very platform in front of me.