Chapter Thirty
Jaime’s mind spun as he tried to think of anything to say that would prove Gautier wrong even as certain things suddenly made sense. Mémé and Nonno, Mother’s parents, had always given him sweets, toys, and storybooks. They had seemed to truly enjoy spending time with him when they often visited. Nonno had given him piggyback rides, and Mémé had always been ready to give him a cuddle, and he still remembered her powdery scent.
Father’s parents, Grandma and Grandpa, had never treated him the same. They’d rarely ever given him a thing, and when he sought affection, it would be quick, or they’d brush him off and tell him to go play. As an adult, he figured they’d been the not-so-nice in-laws who didn’t hate their daughter-in-law but didn’t exactly think she was quite perfect enough for their son, and the dislike transferred to the child. Some in-laws are like that.
They hadn’t cared for Jaime because they’d known the truth. They didn’t like the fact that their son had married Meredith and taken on the results of a rape. While Mémé and Nonno had loved and accepted him since their daughter had chosen to keep the child, they’d looked at Jaime as nothing more than a rape baby.
Mother had lied, and not just because she didn’t want to have the baby talk with Jaime. Maybe she’d never planned to tell him the truth of his birth. Father had even pointedly reminded him that he was a Scaliger because he’d accepted the son that wasn’t his by blood.
Gautier might as well have ripped the very ground out from under his feet. The ex-lord, who might have been guilty of more than two rapes, watched him.
“You fucking killed my family!” Jaime burst out. “You had them all fucking slaughtered like animals. I watched my Mother die! She was pregnant! I would have a little brother or sister, and I’ll never even know now! You-”
He cut off. He hadn’t cried in years, and he wasn’t sure whether to continue raging or break down. He’d had to see blood, slaughter, and even lose the Master Steward. Every single person in the Castle that night had died, right down to the little girl who’d always wanted to kiss his cheek.
“I knew your Father before. We weren’t best friends, but we got along well. He knew I was interested in Meredith. Your parents liked parties, and I met her at one. He still took her attention. A man should know to stay away from what another man has decided to make his.”
To make his. Like Gautier could simply pick a person and claim them without their permission. Like he could take whoever he wanted and even discard them later, such as Aleric.
“Did you think she had a feeling there was something wrong with you? Or Father did? No wonder she didn’t want to marry you. I bet she sensed something about you.”
“Federico isn’t your Father,” Gautier said slowly.
Jaime leaned in. “He raised me and loved me like a Father should despite my origins. You’re not my parent. You’re a man who wants to destroy and wilt everything he can’t. If you can’t have something, you take it, and if you can’t do that, you hurt it. You killed a Castle full of people because you feel Federico stole Meredith from you? You raped a woman because she didn’t want to be with you? You beat Aleric because he said no. You would have raped him too if you thought you could get away with it. You were only afraid he might have had no choice but to tell his Father or the physician. You’re absolutely insa-”
“I’m your only option for survival now. If you do what I say, you can live and be my heir.”
“Fuck you! You killed my family for petty revenge! You’re out of your mind. Like I’d even trust you for a second. You don’t give a fuck that you have a son. You’d never let me live after what I know now. I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire. You don’t have anything to give an heir because you’ve lost everything, and your attempts to salvage anything now are pathetic.”
Gautier shrugged and turned away. “I gave you a chance.”
“Fuck you.”
Gregory told Jaime to get back up on the dais. Jaime couldn't quite get himself to look at Aleric as he obeyed. His future husband, if they even survived the night, probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore. The grandchild of his abuser was in his stomach.
“Regis…” Gautier gazed at his old friend who had to be hating himself now that he knew his oldest hadn’t been lying. “You have been my closest friend for years, and I have no wish to harm you.”
“But you are.” Regis pushed his cane into Aleric’s hands and slowly stepped forward. “This is the part where you give me a shitty ultimatum that you cooked up in your desperation like I’d trust any deal you give me. I’m sure it’ll involve Aleric’s death. If you think for a second that I’ll trade my sons for a little longer, you’re wrong-”
“I’m giving you the option to live.”
“Any offer that lets me live will be considered void in a couple of years. Am I right?” Lord Monet carefully made his way down the dais on his stiff knees. “What? Are you going to be gracious enough to allow me to keep Zacharie? Something like that so you’re not in prison or on the run? Fuck you. I don’t care to hear whatever crap you’re going to tell me, and I’m not making any agreements.”
Jaime tensed. Should he run for the poker to one side? Aleric also had a weapon if he could get to it in time. His Father’s cane was useless since it was wood, and channeling lightning through it would set it on fire. It’d be splinters and ash before long.
“I do want to say this.” Lord Monet stopped in front of Gautier who didn’t move to defend himself. “I believed you when you said you’d been falsely accused in Moria. You’ve been my friend since before my sons were born. I let you stay in my home for nothing because I truly believed you’d been falsely accused. You went behind my back, fooled me, manipulated my oldest, went for my youngest, and you dare to think you can make a deal with me when you’ve spit and stomped on my trust-”
Aleric suddenly gripped the curved top of the cane and yanked. Slim, shining metal appeared, and he threw down the straight portion. The inside of his Father’s cane had been concealing a blade. He thrust the handle toward Zacharie and bolted for the metal folding screen.
Jaime ran for the cold fireplace on the opposite side as Gautier’s men shouted. He just had to get to the poker. The iron could handle his fire. Lord Monet yelled, and he chanced a glance behind him. Fire was coming his way, and he dove behind a table.
The cloth caught, and he didn’t stop moving as he stayed low and crawled across the floor. Just a bit more. Footsteps pounded, Lord Monet shouted as if in pain, and something metal clanged.
“Get away from him!” Zacharie screamed.
A fireball whizzed over Jaime’s head and hit the stone wall above the fireplace. A tiny figurine he’d never really noticed before fell off the mantle and shattered on the hearth. Closer, he stood and raced for the poker hanging on a small hook to the side.
The handle grew hot in his hand, although his magic wouldn’t burn him, and he whirled. Lord Monet was on the floor and bleeding from his side. Zacharie had just stabbed Smith in the back who’d gone for Aleric, and Gautier had moved to get around a table and farther away from either brother.
Aleric had taken the screen and folded it closed so he could hold it like a shield. Strands of lightning raced along the metal surface, and one of the other two men-at-arms threw fire at it. Aleric lifted it enough to protect his face, and the fire harmlessly hit. Smith stumbled forward when Zacharie pulled out the thin blade, and Aleric came forward as he swung.
Smith screamed as the metal slammed into his head, and the lightning shocked him. He fell to the side, and Zacharie lunged with the blade to stab him in the neck and ensure he was finished.
The other three were racing for Jaime. Clearly, they feared him more, and he was more dangerous with a flaming poker. One threw his fire magic, and Jaime had to sacrifice another table. The first was alight with flames greedily eating the tablecloth. Jaime snagged the crystal lantern from the one he’d ducked behind and threw it. Fire yelled as it nailed him right in the face. The glass shattered, and glowing crystals rained to the floor.
The other two came a little slower, and one drew back his hand to throw lightning. Jaime barreled right for him. The “oh, shit” look on Lightning’s face was almost comical as he threw his magic.
It was clumsy, and the lightning skimmed Jaime’s left arm. It wasn’t enough to stop him even though the shock hurt like a bitch, and his left arm locked in pain. He let his momentum carry him forward and swung with his right as Lightning stumbled backward.
The bastard had probably never been in a real fight, and the Castle job had been a cushy one.
The iron slamming into his skull was beyond satisfying. Lightning dropped like a sack of potatoes. He was vaguely aware of Fire screaming on his knees, Gautier going for Aleric who shouted something, and the third man who didn’t seem to have magic.
He was probably a healer. He ran around a table and pulled back his mace.
Jaime tried to dodge and didn’t move fast enough. He gritted his teeth as a new pain exploded in his left arm, and Healer pulled back his heavy mace. Jaime parried him in time to avoid another hit, although the strike reverberated through his arm.
“Bitch!” Jaime lunged forward and swung the poker right into Healer’s throat. The hit wasn’t as satisfying even though skin scorched from the fire around the poker. Watching Hearler’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head.
He almost dropped his mace and made a strange noise as he clutched at his neck, trying to breathe. A throat hit might be dirty, but it works. Jaime went for the face that time, heard bones break, and kicked the man in the gut to knock him on his back.
The next crunch of bone was more satisfying when he brought the poker down on his skull. Dead or alive, Healer wouldn’t be getting back up too soon, and Jaime ran for Gautier as his left arm throbbed.
Zacharie was putting pressure on the wound in his Father’s left side while Gautier attacked Aleric. His sword clanged against the metal screen which had cracked and buckled since it wasn’t meant to be used as a shield or a weapon. It also wasn’t meant for channeling lightning.
Aleric swung it, and Gautier jerked back before he threw a fireball and caught Aleric’s right arm the moment he was open. Jaime came from behind and lifted the poker.
Gautier, the fucking bastard, ducked just in time and turned to attack. Burning pain exploded on Jaime’s chest as he took fire right to the chest. A second later, Aleric slammed the screen into Gautier’s back.
The lightning was enough to make him drop his sword. Enraged, Jaime slammed the poker into his midsection. Aleric bashed his back with the screen again. Completely unprotected except for thin clothing, the fire, lightning, and being struck were too much. Gautier fell to his knees, and the folding screen broke. Aleric threw it down and went for the sword.
“Finish the fucker-for what he did to your Mother.”
Jaime snatched it, let his fire engulf the blade, and with one arm, slugged Gautier’s back. The bloody line that appeared wasn’t enough. The fucker needed to bleed and suffer for the people he’d hurt. People who might not have said a word about anything he’d done.
The first had been for Mother. Gautier shouted at the second strike, and his sleep shirt caught on fire that time. He pushed on the floor as if trying to stand and cried out instead when the sword made another slice in his flesh. For Aleric. Another was for Zacharie. Lord Monet. Matthew, the Morian King’s cousin. Whoever needed to be avenged. Blood dribbled from Gautier who shouted weakly as he collapsed on his stomach, too injured to even roll over and try to put out the fire.
Jaime switched grip, put the point to Gautier’s neck, and pushed. The flesh split, and the neckbone grated against the flaming metal. Gautier flailed that time as if realizing death was seconds away.
Jaime shoved until the sword went through entirely, and the metal point tinked on the marble, slick with blood. The smell of scorched flesh turned his gut, and Aleric watched as Gautier finally stilled, and the puddle of blood under him slowly widened.
The double doors burst open. William and several other men including the four from earlier raced in. Jaime realized how bad it looked with a mutilated body in front of him. Fire was still alive and making a faint sobbing sound as he hunched over on the floor. One hand hovered in front of the glass sticking out of his left eye like he wanted to pull it out but was too scared.
“I can’t see. Please! Someone…” He lifted his head to show the other appeared to be glowing at first glance. A piece of crystal had embedded itself in the eyeball, and twin trails of blood ran down his face. Jaime hadn’t planned for that when he’d thrown the lantern, and the sight was quite gruesome.
“Elira’s will preserve us!” William bellowed as he took in the sight along with Jaime’s burned chest. Aleric’s arm had been hit too, and he looked like a wild man with his hair a wreck.
“Heal my Father. Now.”
“Round up the bodies.” William barked at the men as he raced for Lord Monet. “Get him over there and hold him down. I’ll heal him in a second.” He gestured at Fire.
“No, you’re not.” Aleric stalked over to where Zacharie had dropped the slim blade in his panic. “I’m done waiting. I’m done living like this, and I’m not living one more fucking day knowing that someone who worked for Gautier is alive. Four fucking men under our noses.”
“M’lord,” said one of the men.
Aleric took the blade and approached the one with glass in his eye. He lifted his head more, hearing footsteps.
“Please take it out. I-”
“Fuck you.”
He screamed when Aleric grabbed him by the hair. “I’m sorry! He didn’t give me a choice. Please do-”
He cut off when the edge of the dagger entered his throat. Aleric drew it across in a swift motion, watched the blood spray out, and dropped the man who gurgled and stopped spouting his pitiful lies.
“Commander William,” said a man.
William had his glowing fingers in the wicked cut on Lord Monet’s side. “If he’s killing someone, they probably deserve it. What do you think those bastards were doing in here? Having tea?”
Aleric was almost unnerving as he slit the throats of the others to ensure they were dead while the men watched in shock. They probably hadn’t expected to be pulled out of bed in the night to see the lord’s Hall with bodies, blood, and broken crystals all over. At least the tablecloths had gone out, and they were ruined beyond repair. The tables that had suffered a hit from magic were scorched. Gautier’s partially burned sleep shirt merely smoldered while he lay in his own blood. One of the men pointed at the sword still sticking out of his neck and swore.
“Anything else?” William touched Lord Monet’s knee since he said something about being kicked there. Gautier must have attacked him simply to put him down so he could focus on Aleric who had been more dangerous and closer at the time.
Zacharie shook and tried to wipe his bloody hands on his legs, and William spoke. “Why are you all standing there like idiots? Take the damn bodies out. Get a damn servant too, and get Lord Monet a glass of something stout. I don’t care who fetches it. Damn it, I need something myself. Come here.” He pointed at Jaime. “You look like shit.”
The servants probably hadn’t heard a thing depending on where they slept in the back. Many also went home at night. Aleric stood over the body of the last man he’d sliced to ensure he was dead. Once Jaime’s burns were healed, he wanted to go over to Aleric and hug him. He had to be in shock. William headed toward him to heal his arm.
Jaime remembered Aleric’s terrified face the morning Zacharie had said he was Gautier’s son. It was true, and he couldn’t show his sword hilt to put him at ease. He wasn’t a Scaliger. Not truly.
Aleric wouldn’t want to raise his abuser’s grandson with his son.
He sank to the edge of the dais while Lord Monet spoke to the Commander and explained what happened.
How had Mother withstood it? How had she always been able to treat Jaime with love? Plenty of people did away with rape babies, and nobody blamed them for it. Her parents had also treated Jaime like he was worth it. And Father…he treated Jaime like his own, and there was no way he couldn’t have known.
Aleric suddenly sat next to him and looped his arm through Jaime’s. “He’s dead.”
He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. Jaime stared at the body of his real Father. It was over, and for some reason, Aleric was by him and even touching him.
“I thought-” Jaime’s voice hitched, and he remembered Aleric telling him he was too pushy. “What if some part of him is in me, and I just don’t know yet? Maybe I’ve got a foul streak and-”
“You’re the opposite,” Aleric muttered. “We don’t have to be our parents. Your Father told you you’re a Scaliger, and he meant it. Keep the name. Or you can have mine if you want when we get married.”
Jaime glanced at him. “You’d still marry me?” And not have the spawn of Gautier tossed outside the gate?
“Yes.” Aleric leaned into him.
“I’m still his son. I mean-when you look at me, you’re going to remember him .”
“No. I’ll see the man you are. Our child won’t be like him either. I think the man you called Father would be proud of you. That one over there doesn’t matter. He wasn’t around, and he only sought to take. Your Father gave. You’ve given me a lot too.”
Jaime moved his arm to sling it around Aleric and hug him.