LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

damaged, and that outweighed any concern she might have had for his demeanor. “Where are we?”

      “We are in a prison.”

      Had she slept that long? “They’ve taken us off the ship, then?”

      “We are in a prison on the ship.” His words seemed to come from behind clenched teeth.

      Vaguely, she remembered him chasing after her, shouting for her to stop, but her head ached and she did not want to examine her actions, or his reactions to them, now. “Why would someone need a prison on their ship?”

      There was a rustling in the darkness, and the sound painted a picture in her mind of Cedric, wriggling against his bonds in an effort to free himself. “Perhaps in the event that someone loses all sense and reason and murders a fellow passenger?”

      Absorbing that anger, she said softly, “You could have stopped me.”

      A spot of red flared in the blackness. His antennae. The illumination gave her a clearer idea of where he was. Close to her, but not close enough to touch if she stretched out her bound hands. He sat upright, and the red glinted off the metallic surface of the wall behind him. In the glow, she could see the top of his head, but nothing else, none of his expression.

      It was probably best that way. “You could have stopped yourself! You must learn, Your Majesty, that only you are responsible for your actions. Your stupid, rash actions!”

      Though he meant to chastise her, she could not feel guilt over her actions. She ran the moment of Bauchan’s death through her mind once, twice, a third time. Her palms remembered the vibration of the blade in her hands as it sank into Bauchan’s body. The scent of his blood, dried onto her skin like war paint, tainted each breath. It had all been real, and it had all been her doing. But she could not lament it.

      “I take responsibility for what I did. Of course, I do. But you must have wanted him dead, as well. He knew the one thing that you did not want him to know. His death must be a great relief to you.”

      “A relief? To be imprisoned?” His voice rose in pitch, almost comical in his outrage.

      “A relief, because now we are safe when we arrive at Danae’s Court. Bauchan can tell no one what he heard!” They were not safe from execution for murdering Bauchan. How to avoid punishment for that still escaped her.

      Metal thudded dully. Cedric had kicked the floor in frustration. “There were other ways, ways that might not have gotten us killed!”

      “Bauchan could not have been bought.” As if struck by lightning, a realization came upon her. “No one can truly be bought. If they are willing to trade their loyalty for gold or power, someone will always have a better offer.”

      “So, all enemies must die, is that what you’re saying?” Cedric’s bitter chuckle sounded as though it would gag him. “I had no idea you were so naive.”

      If he had looked into her most private fears, he could not have found words more able to wound her. “I did what had to be done!”

      “Yes, I’m sure Danae will accept that at our trial—if she bothers to have one!”

      Their anger filled the silence with hollow, rasping breaths. As if she’d brought that coiling, insidious mist with her from the dream world, something nebulous expanded in her, pushed out words that did not need to be said. “What do you think Danae will do to me? Imprison me? Execute me? Permit her to do it! I would welcome anything that would take this burden from me!”

      “A burden you created!” he snapped back.

      At once, the heady vapor that had fueled her rage fled her. She was empty, nothing but a husk of sorrow again. She’d forgotten that she’d felt this way before the exhilaration of Bauchan’s murder. Would it always take being the instrument of death to fill that void she’d created? She’d felt at peace again when she killed Flidais, but it had not lasted. And the Elf, that death had given her the illusion of putting things to right. With each death, the wound in her grew deeper, and the balm did not deaden the pain as long as it had before.

      Cedric had heard her restrained crying, and a soft, masculine sigh rumbled between them. He did not apologize for what he’d said; no Fae would recant what they believed to be a true statement, not if they valued the sentiment of it too much. Instead, he said, “You would not welcome death.”

      “You cannot know what greeting I would give such a sentence.” You did not kill your family with your deception.

      “I should not have laid all of the blame on you.” A thud, a rustle. He tried to move closer. “You are to blame, for some. But there were more lies at work than a Faery no older than twenty could have dreamed up on her own. You may have hastened the end, but you weren’t the only instrument in that respect, either.”

      The noise of his movements continued. He was nearly beside her now, but she held still. She would not meet him. “It is easier to blame myself for my part, than to point a finger at those who were ultimately wronged most.”

      She felt the heat of him beside her, and she wanted to lean on him, to feel the reassuring presence of him against her body. But he’d hurt her, and he’d been so angry only moments ago. She could not use him as her refuge now, as she had in the nights since they’d come aboard the ship.

      “There are so many things that are not in our control in our lives. We cannot hold ourselves responsible for them.” He sighed and leaned back on the wall. “You killed Bauchan, and Flidais. You lied to your mother. But your lies did not make Flidais betray her. You did not make Bauchan come to the Court with ill intent. You did not loose the Waterhorses upon our people.”

      She rocked herself from side to side, tried to sit up, but the motion yielded no result save for exhausting her. She lifted her head and tentatively laid it in his lap. She did not want to take such comfort in him if she had no guarantee that they would not part once things had been settled with the Upworld Queene. And she did not wish to admit that that knowledge frightened her more than any sentence that Queene Danae could pass against her.

      “You say that, because it is easy for you to say it and feel that you’ve done me some service by your words.” Her breath heated the fabric of his robe beneath her cheek. “But if I said them to you, you would not believe them.”

      “I have nothing that I blame myself for,” he answered too quickly, with too much false confidence. “I am fulfilling my vow.”

      “To me.” She did not know where these words came from, for she could not have thought them herself. “You fear that you failed someone else.”

      He took in a sharp breath, and the muscle of his thigh tightened beneath her cheek. “Who told you such a thing?”

      “No one told me anything, explicitly. But I could read the truth of it in your face as you gazed on the water.” A sudden, cold shock proved it. “You looked at it as though it were your enemy. You gazed into the depths as if you hated and feared it, but could not look away from it.”

      He took another breath, ragged, as though he held back with great effort something that he would not allow to be heard out loud. It was a struggle he could not win.

      When he spoke, it was from a place as shrouded in fear as the clearing from her dream. But this time, the dread did touch her, so palpable was it in his words.

      “The night I came to you, when I…fulfilled my promise to tell you of what transpired in your mother’s Council…” He halted, swallowed audibly. “You were not the only one to have a Darkworld lover. There was a woman, a Gypsy woman. She was a girl, really, perhaps younger than you. I never asked, and she never told me. They are timeless, ageless, her people. At least, they seemed so. She had asked me to go with her, to flee the Underground and stay with her always….”

      The words struck her like a weapon she did not see coming, and the wound in her deepened, split anew by the pain in his voice. If her hands were not bound, she would have covered her ears to keep from hearing, for she knew what would come next.

Скачать книгу