Chapter 132 - Truth - Part 5

ETAN

Etan was reeling. The magnitude of what she had stated… It could not be true. It could not be. And yet… she stood before him, rock-solid in her surety.

She would kill her own daughter simply to remove Ayleth from his grasp. From his love!

He believed her. He didn't doubt her willingness, or that she would use the sick power she had to do it. But every time he tried to speak his mind only screamed at him.

Ayleth. His wife. He had to safe his wife.

How could he save her from this?!

He gaped at her, more confused and uncertain than he'd felt since he was a child. As he stood there, speechless, she patted his cheek, then turned from him, brushing specks of dust from flowers off her skirt and onto the floor, tsking as if the detail vexed her. He should have known it was an act. 

"You can try to see your way through this, Etan, but I assure you, this trap is set and there is no escape." She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes flashing. "You could break your blood vow, I suppose… if you want to live with the consequences of that. Your God will not be kind to do. But you could… you could announce her publicly, or take her away from Zenithra, but she will die within minutes—no matter where you try to hide her." 

She walked along one of the walls of books, as if she were perusing to find something to read. "Or, you can do as I tell you, and convince her that you are taking another, that she is a casualty of political machinations. You can stay silent when we announce a wedding for her on the Day of Unions. And you can announce your own betrothal—publicly—to another heir. The Lady Playne will do. I would have preferred a more powerful nation. But I can convince Ayleth of your… fickleness with her."

"I cannot do that to her," Etan croaked. "It will destroy her."

"Then you sign her death warrant." The Queen turned to face him again, ruthlessly pragmatic. "There is no special magic needed to bring this spell to its culmination. I only need crush the vial that holds her blood and hair and that will be the end of it. And… I will grieve her." He examined her, expected pleading, or fear. But instead he found anger and pride behind her eyes. "I will grieve the loss of my daughter and I will blame you, and from that day forward I will stop restraining my husband. I will encourage him to go to war with Summitras. So, in the end, you will die also. That will be a small balm."

Then she turned away and began to walk the books again.

It was so surreal. Etan put the heels of both hands into his eyes searching desperately for a way out, for a corner—praying for an escape from this nightmare. But no matter which way he turned, all he found was Ayleth, dead.

His heart thundered and beat at his ribs, his pulse singing the words to him.

Ayleth, dead. Ayleth, dead. Ayleth, dead.

*****

AYLETH

From the moment she cantered away from Etan, her stomach filled with dread. She could not shake the feeling that something very, very bad was about to happen. The further they rode away from her husband, the heavier the sense became until she fingers began to tremble on the reins and Falek asked whether she was well.

She put him off with a blithe reference to nerves, but in truth she was terrified. She had had the same feeling in the days leading up to her attempted abduction. It had never returned since, so that she'd wondered if she'd only imagined it later. To feel it now… 

Perhaps she should not have put Falek off. Perhaps she might be sick.

She pushed for speed and they made it to the castle much quicker than they had planned. 

As they rode into the stableyard, Falek gave her look from the side and whispered, "You are returning in peace, Ayleth. Do not give yourself away."

She nodded, and pasted a small smile on her face.

But for the first time in years, Ayleth did not wait for assistance to dismount, and once the yard hand had her reins, she hurried from her horse without so much as checking that the mare's hay and water were fresh. She received the greetings of the stable staff as she walked briskly out of the yard towards the castle. 

Without a word, Falek swung off of his stallion, tossing the reins to a stableboy, and followed at her heels. 

She did not speak until they were far enough away from the stables and alone on the rod so they would not be overheard.

Ayleth's heart pounded in her chest. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, but also with excitement. It was possible, just possible, that this feeling was wrong. Simply triggered by her fear. It was possible that within a couple of hours she could be with Etan—touch him, hold him—in the presence of her mother. That they might be together without hiding. 

It was also possible that her father would take Etan's head in a fit of rage. She prayed to the Goddess that she could convince her mother that their love was real so she would support them and help with her father.

"Chin high and shoulders relaxed, Princess," Falek muttered, using the title he knew she hated to straighten her spine in anger. "You return to the castle as the next Queen, not as a supplicant," he said softly. "When you are under the eyes of any—including your parents—keep that foremost in your mind. You do have power in this Kingdom, even independent of them. Remember it. Use it."

She nodded, swallowing back her fear and focusing on what was to come. Falek looming at her shoulder was balm—but one that she feared she could not encourage. Despite his allegiance, he did not have the power or recognition that she had. If she were to shine a spotlight on him in this, her father would simply remove him—or worse, kill him. She would never let that happen. 

She raised her chin to remind anyone who looked on her, who she was, and what she was. 

And she prayed.