Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Seraphina
Acold wind whipped across the blackened sands, making her shiver. The scents of blood and ash soaked the air. Crimson lightning split the dark sky overhead.
Death was coming.
Rather than race for the Crow as she always did, all simply to fight with his chains in vain, she set off in the opposite direction, determined to try a new path. Perhaps the Lord would show her something new this time if she tried something different.
But the dunes of the wasteland were unfamiliar in this direction. There were no stars to light her way. Soon, she became lost.
In the darkness, a familiar voice emerged.
“That’s right,” that oily rasp whispered, each word oozing directly into her thoughts, “you don’t need that filthy Crow anyway.”
Seraphina’s breath hitched in her throat as she whirled around to face the voice. But there was no one there. Only more darkness. More lightning. More cold.
She wrapped her arms around her midsection in a desperate attempt to keep the cold at bay. This had been a mistake—forging off into the unknown. She should have just run to Aldric as she always did, even if it was ultimately pointless.
He never helped her. He never even tried to escape.
The voice continued. “You’re perfect Seraphina de la Croix, after all. And what is he?”
“Stop,” she whispered. She wasn’t perfect. Nor did she think she was.
“He’s worthless.”
She shook her head. “He’s not.”
“And he’s a sinner.”
Her jaw clenched. “As am I.” Everyone was, even Shepherds and Oracles.
Only the Lord on High was without fault.
“But he’s the worst sort of sinner—an unfaithful one.”
Her throat tightened. She had no retort for that.
Aldric was unfaithful, in more than one sense of the word. He had turned his back on the Lord, just as he had turned his back on her.
But had he truly?
The rational part of her mind pointed out that Aldric had known this other woman long before he had ever met her. Perhaps he even loved her. And how could she possibly fault him for that? Perhaps he had good reasons for having never married her.
Presenting that argument to the strangely wounded places of her heart soothed that ache just a little. Rallying, she plodded off further across the shifting sands, back the way she had come.
But then she stopped mid-stride. A horrifying thought dawned.
What if he was already married to this other woman? What if she was his secret wife? But that would make their own marriage null…
The voice chuckled in the midst of her swiftly spiraling thoughts. “He’s with her right now, you know. The other woman.”
“Be quiet!” she screamed. She didn’t want to think about it. What business of it was hers? Instead, she focused all her attention on this strange voice and demanded, “Who are you to speak to me this way?”
But the voice didn’t answer. It merely taunted her further. “Poor Sera. Lonely Sera. No one ever liked her. Not even her own father. No one ever wanted to marry her. Not even common-born Tiberius.”
She lifted her hands to her face, pressing her fingers against her temples, squeezing hard, as if she could force the voice straight from her thoughts. “Stop it.”
But it didn’t work. The voice was still there.
Laughing.
Laughing at her.
“Not even that filthy Crow—”
Cold water splashed her face, ripping her from sleep. She gasped, choking. The water was in her nose. Streaming down her neck. Soaking into her nightgown.
Disoriented, confused, she shoved herself into a sitting position and met Olivia’s worried face in the darkness of her room. Her friend clasped the bowl meant to hold water for washing their hands and faces before bed.
It was empty.
Before she could ask what in the world Olivia thought she was doing, the door to her bedchamber exploded inward. A dozen Queensguard poured in, their drawn blades flashing in the moonlight.
Seraphina tugged her now damp sheets up to her throat, hiding her body from view so the guards wouldn’t see her in her nightgown. “What is happening?” she demanded, looking between the lot of them.
Olivia huffed out a sigh and set aside the wash bowl. “It’s all right! She was just having a nightmare.”
One of her guardsmen—Radcliffe—stepped forward, still frowning despite Olivia’s reassurances. “Is that true, Your Majesty? Is all well?”
“Yes,” she answered without thinking, though she hadn’t the faintest idea if all truly was well. What had happened? What time was it? She flashed a look toward her balcony doors; all she saw was darkness and stars. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine. It was just…a bad dream.”
After a few more minutes of reassuring her Queensguard that she was fine, the men finally left. Leaving her alone. With Olivia.
She tossed back her blankets and leveled a bewildered look at her best friend.
Confusion and irritation warred for supremacy within her heart as she rose to her feet and peeled the wet nightgown from her skin.
Within the cold air, she shivered. The flames in the fireplace had died out hours ago, it looked like.
While she hurried to the linen chest at the end of her bed to find a fresh nightgown, she softly demanded, “Now do you mind telling me why you dumped out our wash bowl over my head?”
The other woman answered without hesitation, her voice soft and serious. “Because you were screaming. Thrashing. I couldn’t wake you.”
Seraphina paused and peeked at her friend over her shoulder.
Within the moonlight streaming in through the windows, Olivia’s features hardened. “You promised me he didn’t hurt you.”
A frown tugged at her lips. “Who?”
“The Crow.”
Seraphina sighed, retrieved a new nightgown, and promptly pulled it on over her head. “He didn’t hurt me,” she insisted again, remembering the way Olivia had looked ready to stab her husband the moment she had seen the cut laces on her wedding gown. “He didn’t even touch me.”
Her husband. She could still hardly believe it. She was…married. To Aldric.
Her eyes lowered to her left hand, to the emerald darkly gleaming there. She stroked its faceted surface with a fingertip and frowned all the more.
His mother’s ring. He had given her his mother’s ring.
Olivia limped closer. “If he didn’t hurt you earlier, then why were you shouting, ‘Stop,’ just now?”
Her stomach churned. Her pulse quickened. Had she truly been screaming the word “stop” over and over loud enough to bring her Queensguard running?
With a groan, Seraphina let her face sink into her hands. It was almost too embarrassing to admit, even to Olivia. But she knew she would have no peace until she told her friend the truth. Besides, Olivia already knew everything else about her. She might as well know this, too.
Well, she knew almost everything. Seraphina hadn’t told her about the voice she had heard when she kissed Aldric at the wedding ceremony. Nor that she had wished he would kiss her more.
Hands falling away from her face, she straightened her back and admitted aloud as casually as she could, “I was just having a nightmare about a strange voice taunting me that nobody wants me. Not even my husband, seeing as how he is probably with his mistress right now.”
Olivia offered her a slow blink.
Seraphina pasted a smile on her lips, refusing to be ashamed.
Oracle Tsukiko had cursed her with these visions—a “gift” from the Lord on High Himself, she had said. And if her God wanted her to dream of such things, so be it. Perhaps it was a trial. A test of faith.
A rather frightening test of faith. She was quite sure she never wanted to speak with that voice again, whether waking or sleeping. It felt so…cold. So ominous. So menacing.
Unbidden, a verse from the Scriptures that had always brought her comfort in the past unfurled within her thoughts: “Though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she inscribed that verse on her heart. She would no doubt need it again in the weeks to come. The Lord was with her.
What did she have to fear?
Without a word, Olivia turned on her heel and marched toward the trunk containing her clothes and other various odds and ends that she had shoved into a corner of the room. Though they had been sharing this space for over a week now, her friend still refused to officially “move in” and unpack.
Seraphina stifled a yawn while she watched the other woman rummaging about. “What time is it?”
“Late,” Olivia answered, righting herself and tossing a bundle of clothes her way.
She frowned down at the coarse cloak, shirt, and trousers, unsure what she was supposed to do with them. “Why are you giving me men’s clothing?”
Olivia made a face. “I’m giving you my clothing. And it’s so we can smuggle you out of the palace unseen, obviously.” Her friend pursed her lips, glancing toward the door. “But let’s wait another ten minutes before we leave. Just in case Percy comes running to make sure you’re all right.”
Her friend slanted her a look and explained, “He has several of your guards in his pocket, you know.”
Seraphina blinked, not following this latest caravan of thought. “Where, exactly, are you intending to smuggle me to?” She wasn’t even going to touch on the fact that her godparents were spying on her. She already knew that.
Just as she knew Olivia kept eyes on her at all times, too.
Without missing a beat, Olivia drawled, “To spy on the Crow, of course.”
Now it was her turn to grimace. “No. Absolutely not. I refuse to invade his privacy like that.” Her friend snorted, but still she continued on to say, “It is none of my business what that man does with his evenings, so long as he keeps up his end of our bargain.”
Olivia delivered to her a flat stare, a single eyebrow arching. “Mmhm, right. And that’s exactly why you stayed up all night last night thinking about it, and why you’re now having nightmares about some voice saying no one wants you.”
In the wake of her friend’s words, Seraphina could only swallow. No quick retort rose to her tongue.
Olivia heaved out a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I knew I should have never told you. Because I know how you get, Sera. You have to know all the facts or else the not knowing drives you mad.”
Her friend jabbed a finger at her, pointing at the bundle of dark clothing within her hands. “So, put those on and come with me so you can see for yourself that this man has terrible taste in women and that you’re ten times prettier than she is.”
Before she could conjure up any manner of protest, Olivia found a man’s flat cap amongst her things and tossed that at her, too.
“Tuck your hair into this,” her friend instructed, one of her trademark grins finally cracking her lips.
“You’ll never pass for a man, but we’ll be moving too quickly for anyone to get a good look at you. Won’t we?”