Chapter 29
29
Fiona
Twenty Days Later
S weat drips down my face, and I grip the toilet bowl, heaving a final time. I sit back on the cold tile when I'm convinced there's no more.
Mom's voice cuts through the air. "Fiona, are you pregnant?"
My heart beats faster. I turn my head, staring at her.
She arches her eyebrows and softly asks, "Are you?"
I slowly shrug my shoulders, and my eyes fill with tears. I answer, "Maybe."
She walks to the sink, pulls a towel off the rack, douses it in water, and wrings it out. She holds her hand out. "Let's get you off the floor."
I take her hand and rise.
She steers me into my bedroom, toward the sitting area, ordering, "Sit down, sweetie."
I take a seat.
She sits next to me and presses the wet towel against my forehead. "How long have you been getting sick? "
I think back, and more tears form as I shake my head. "Every day since I've been here."
She nods. "I see. Do you think we should take a test?"
My pulse pounds between my ears. I look away, gripping my thigh.
She puts her hand on mine, sternly pointing out, "Fiona, if you're pregnant, you need to know."
I turn my head back toward her, confessing, "I wanted to be. But now… I don't know, Mom." Another round of tears falls.
She pulls me into her arms. "Shh, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay."
I freak out. "How? If I'm pregnant and I'm not even talking to my child's father..."
She pulls back. "Whose choice is that?"
I gape at her.
"Answer me," she demands.
I look away.
"Fiona, who's choosing not to speak the other?" she repeats.
I pull at my fingers, mumbling, "Me."
She continues, "You need to talk to him."
I sniffle and turn away.
She questions, "What are you mad at him about?"
My lip trembles. I blink, and more tears run down my cheek and off my jaw. I turn back. "How can you ask me that?"
She pins her gaze on me. "Tell me exactly what you're mad about so I'm not assuming anything."
I scoff. "Do I really need to spell it out? "
"Yes. So tell me."
My insides quiver as well as my voice, "I-I don't know how you can sit here and be so strong after what they did to you." Flashbacks of the video pop into my mind.
Mom's face hardens a bit. She declares, "I had a lot of therapy, Fiona. And there's no point living in the past. We can't do things over again. We can only move forward."
I choke out, "I married the son of the man who...who..." I turn away, unable to say the word.
She grips my chin, tilting my face back to hers so I can't avoid her. Sympathy is written across her features. She firmly declares, "Kirill didn't harm me. Nor has he harmed you. It's not his fault what happened, so you need to determine what exactly you're blaming him for."
"He knew and didn't tell me!"
She raises a brow at me.
"He should have told me," I insist.
Mom takes a deep breath and releases it. "I don't know, Fiona. I never wanted you or Sean to know about it, but now you do. As your mother, I also tried to protect you by keeping you in the dark. So maybe you should stop talking to me too."
I gape at her.
She points at me, asserting, "Sounds ridiculous, right?"
I ponder her question.
She asks, "Do you think knowing about it makes it better?"
I think further, opening my mouth and then shutting it. I look away, shaking my head, confessing, "I don't know. "
"In my eyes, you and Sean knowing makes it worse. It doesn't erase the facts or make anyone feel any better. Now, my children have another ache in their hearts. So I don't blame Kirill for not telling you. I respect him for it. And it's not fair to blame him for what his father did."
I don't look at her, trying to get past the betrayal I feel but unsure how do it.
Mom orders, "Look at me."
I turn toward her.
She holds an envelope in front of me. My name is scrawled on the front in Kirill's handwriting.
My heart beats faster.
She lowers her voice, asking, "Don't you think it's time you read his letters?"
My heart squeezes as I stare at the envelope. She's given me one every day, but they're in my desk drawer. I can't open them.
"Take it, Fiona. You need to read this and the others. I don't know what's in them, but he comes here every day—in pain and full of apologies—with a new one. You're only making things worse, and you can't stop communicating with your husband, especially if you're having his baby," she scolds.
"He lied to me," I declare.
She jerks her head back. "How? Tell me how he lied to you."
"He—" I stop.
Mom softens her tone. "He didn't lie to you. He didn't tell you something so you wouldn't be hurt. There's a difference. Now, I suggest you take a pregnancy test and read the letters your husband has sent you. "
My eyes fill with more tears.
She tilts her head, stating, "You can't heal without communication." She puts the letter on my lap and rises.
I stare at it, my body trembling.
"Fiona."
I gaze up at her.
She peers down at me. "Do you love him?"
My chest tightens to the point my heart hurts. More tears fall.
She waits for me to answer.
In a blurry haze, I nod.
She puts her hand on my shoulder, ordering, "Read the letters, Fiona." She turns and leaves my room, shutting the door.
I stare at the envelope for several moments, then open it.
My dearest Fiona,
I never knew twenty days could feel so long. Every second that passes seems to stretch longer. And I thought I knew pain, but I realize I didn't understand it until now. Nothing compares to the agony constantly clawing inside of me, digging deeper when I think it can't possibly hurt any more.
Tears drip onto the letter. I reach across the table, grab tissues, dab my eyes, and continue reading.
Since you've always been honest with me, I'll tell you the truth. I'd do anything to protect you. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. So there's no way I could have ever told you what my father did to your parents. I knew it would damage your heart, and I'd rather die than be the cause of inflicting pain upon you.
I close my eyes, wishing he was here to hold me, knowing it's true. Kirill always put my safety and happiness before his. I sniffle and return to the letter.
Before that video arrived, I had never seen it. Yes, I was aware of what happened, but only verbally. And it was years after my father's death when I learned the truth. So, I didn't know the video existed. Naively, I decided to keep the truth buried forever to safeguard your heart, and selfishly so you wouldn't hate me.
Admittedly, I watched the scene too many times before discovering you were in New York. It tore me to pieces, and all I keep thinking is how it had to have hurt you even worse.
A new pain fills me. It's not for my mom or dad but for Kirill. I may not know how to overcome this, but he was close to my father. His own blood did this to my parents. The same man who scarred him both inside and out did the same to my family. So, his statement is a reminder that he's a victim too. And the realization cuts into me.
I continue reading.
I've never deserved you, Fiona. The moment the Omni ordered me to marry you, all I could think about was how unfair it was to you. As much as I tried to avoid the day you would realize who you're married to, it's come. I stupidly pushed it so far back in my mind that I believed you wouldn't ever hate me, but now you know the full truth, and there's no turning back.
I miss everything about you. Not seeing your smile or hearing your laugh is killing me. Don't get me started on the inability to hold you. If I could lie in bed and spoon you for eternity, I would.
I laugh through my tears, remembering how he didn't know what spooning was, and more sadness hits me. The ache to feel him wrapped around my body intensifies. I try to finish the letter.
Most of all, I miss seeing how you look at me with nothing but love and admiration. From the first moment you pinned your green eyes on me, you looked past my flaws and only saw me. It took me a long time to believe your attraction for me, and now that it's gone, I'm an addict, jonesing to see it one more time.
I put my hand over my face, taking deep breaths, hating how much this hurts. Then I blow my nose and read the rest.
Whatever you need me to do to try and make things right between us, I will. I don't care what it is, Fiona. Please. Talk to me. Tell me what I can do.
I promise you one thing. I detest my father. I may have his blood, but I'm not him. Nor will I ever be.
I want my wife back.
Please come home. I'm still on the yacht in the harbor. I'll wait for you for however long you need.
Love,
Kirill
Another round of tears leaks down my cheeks and then nausea hits me. I run to the bathroom, hug the toilet bowl, then go to the sink and clean my face. I stare at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror.
What am I doing?
It's not his fault .
He should have told me.
I return to my bedroom, open my desk drawer, and remove the stack of unopened letters. I turn over the first one, staring at his seal, then break it. I pull out the note.
One by one, I read his letters, sobbing through them as he professes his love for me, makes me laugh with little statements, and begs me to speak with him. By the time I'm done, his pain is so sharp it competes with mine.
I've never missed anyone like this or truly loved any other man.
We have to get through this.
He didn't tell me to protect me.
I stare at the stack of tearstained letters and decide there's only one answer on how to move forward.
I need to talk to him.
I need to go home.
He's on the yacht.
The harbor isn't far.
I leave my room and go to the garage. I scan the row of keys hanging on the wall and grab the set to my Land Rover. I slide into the SUV, open the garage door, and turn the engine on. I accelerate out of the garage and drive toward the gate. It opens, and I speed through it.
For several miles, I'm alone on the road. Then, a loud honk blares from behind me.
I glance in my rearview mirror. The hairs on my arms rise. Several SUVs are behind me. I slow down so they can pass, but one gets in front of me and doesn't go faster. Another slides up beside me, and I'm surrounded. The front SUV slows, and I can't do anything but stop.
I reach for my phone but realize I don't have it .
"Shit," I curse, and a cold sweat forms on my forehead.
Men in expensive suits step out of the SUVs, and my fear heightens. They circle my vehicle.
What am I going to do?
A man opens the back door of the SUV next to mine. Jytte steps out and tries to open my door, but it's locked. She orders, "Fiona, open the door."
I release an anxious breath, then open the door, reprimanding, "You scared the crap out of me!"
She narrows her eyes. "We have business matters to attend to, and you're late."
A wave of panic hits me. I know the rules. You're not allowed to be late to an Underworld summons, even if you're the queen.
"Why aren't you answering your phone?" she questions.
"It-it's been off," I reply, realizing how irresponsible I've been. The pit in my stomach grows. No matter what happens in my personal life, I have duties I'm obligated to fulfill.
Jytte insists, "Time is running out. Orders are pressing. Come with me, Fiona."
"What about my car? I can't just leave it in the middle of the road," I point out.
She rolls her eyes. "You're the queen. It'll be taken care of, so don't worry. Now, let's go."
My chest tightens.
Don't go with her.
I'm being silly .
"Okay." I follow her, slide into her SUV, and the door shuts. The vehicle takes off, and she closes the divider window.
I turn toward her, fretting, "What's going on?"
She lifts her chin, and a haughty expression appears on her face.
Chills run down my spine.
She declares, "It's come to our attention that you aren't fully aware of your duties and the rules."
The air in my lungs turns stale. I argue, "That's not true. I studied the Royal Doctrine well enough to know my duties as queen and all The Underworld laws."
She remains quiet, an arrogant look plastered on her face.
My gut flips. I insist, "I know everything inside the Royal Doctrine."
She states, "I guess we'll find out."
"What does that mean?"
Her lips twitch. "The Omni have demanded the membership to gather."
More fear fills me. "For what?"
Her smile grows. She reveals, "Tonight, you will partake in a ritual."
"Which one?" I question, putting my hand on my stomach, feeling ill.
Her smugness grows. She answers, "Tainted Crown."
"Tainted—" My mouth turns dry, and I swallow hard. The Tainted Crown can only be issued when the Omni believes a king, queen, or both aren't living up to the duties they've vowed to uphold.
They've plotted to overthrow us.
"Take me to my husband," I command.
Her lips turn up in a wicked grin .
Bile rises in my throat. I swallow it and say in a sharper tone, "I ordered you to take me to my husband."
She leans forward, grabs a crystal decanter, and pours several fingers of clear alcohol into a tumbler. She samples it, then takes a larger sip. She puts the glass in the cup holder and says, "He's already there."
I do my best to appear confident but feel nothing of the sort. If Kirill or I don't pass their test, there's only one ending for us.
Death.