Chapter IX. One More Taste of Heartbreak
IX
ONE MORE TASTE OF HEARTbrEAK
“‘WHAT THE FUCK are you talking about?’
“Dior was stood in her boudoir, dressed in her dawnmass best, pale blue eyes gone wide and wild.
It was the morn of the deed, that broken silver song still ringing in my skull, refusing to leave me be.
Maryn and I had been roused in the predawn dark by our guards informing us of that which we were already fully aware: Phoebe á Dúnnsair had returned to Augustin at last, and the Grail had demanded our presence.
“Joaquin was already with Dior, and the Princess á Maergenn soon joined us, gifting Phoebe a long and tearful embrace. We’d stood silent as the fleshwitch recounted her tale, but Maryn and I already knew it—the details concocted yestereve.
In Phoebe’s version of events, she’d not stolen Ashdrinker, nor fled before the battle of San Maximille.
Instead, she’d been with Gabriel as he charged the Forever King’s fortifications.
“‘You told him I was alive?’ Dior whispered.
“‘Aye,’ Phoebe nodded. ‘But buoyed up on duskdancer blood, armed with the sainted blade, we’d all believed Gabriel capable of slaying Fabién. Yet at the last…’
“The duskdancer shook her head, tears glittering in hunter’s eyes.
“‘He f-failed, Flower.’
“Dior clenched her teeth, staring the fleshwitch down.
“‘What do you mean failed? He’s the greatest swordsman in the realm, armed with the sword of an angel and the blood of the Holy fucking Grail!’
“‘Nae man of woman born may slay the Forever King.’
“Dior breathed unsteady, lashes brimming as she whispered.
“‘What happened?’
“‘He fought like a demon. He fought for ye, for all of us … Moons, he was brilliant, Dior.’ Phoebe breathed deep, crying now. ‘But even graced with yer holy blood, Ashdrinker could nae best the iron of the Forever King’s skin. Rather than piercing it, she broke upon it.’
“‘Shit,’ Dior hissed. ‘And Gabe? Oh God p-please, tell me he’s aright, Phoebe…’
“‘He lives. But…’
“‘But what? Goddamn you, fucking speak!’
“‘He surrendered, Flower. Gabriel bent his knee to the Forever King.’
“Dior shook her head, tears falling like rain.
“‘I don’t believe you. No, nono, I don’t fucking believe you, Gabe would never surrender to that bastard! There’s no way a man who lost the wife and daughter he loved more than life would kneel to the monster who took them away!’
“‘He gave them back, Dior. One o’ them anyway.’
“The Grail stood mute, bewildered and trembling.
“‘Patience,’ Phoebe sighed. ‘That poor wee bairn is become, Dior. Broodchild of the Lord of the Ironhearts. Eighth Prince of Forever. And fer the chance to be with her again, his own flesh and blood, his true daughter…’
“The fleshwitch hung her head.
“‘Gabriel set all others aside.’
“A sob bubbled at Dior’s lips, her face crumpling.
“‘No. No, he promised. He p-promised he’d never leave m-me.’
“‘I’m sorry, Flower.’
“‘He PROMISED!’
“The scream rang upon the walls, in the empty halls of my heart, my eyes downturned as Dior withered to the floor. Reyne rushed to her side, murmuring comforts, smoothing the tears from Dior’s cheeks. But the Grail snarled at Phoebe now.
“‘Why didn’t you stop him?’
“‘Dior, I—’
“‘Why didn’t you STOP HIM, PHOEBE?’ she roared, rising back to her feet. ‘I was here waiting for him! I trusted you! I needed you!’
“‘I’m sorry, Flower.’
“‘Sorry? You’re fucking SORRY? Sorry doesn’t bring my fa—’
“She caught herself then, spit hissing between clenched teeth, arms wrapped tight about herself. And turning to the bureau beside her, she dragged her hands across it, crystal carafes and tumblers and vases all sent flying, crashing, smashing upon the floor. Joaquin looked on with anguish, Reyne’s face twisted with sorrow as Dior screamed again; a scream of such grief and heartbreak and loneliness it almost made us weep with her.
Through every trial upon her road, the vow my brother made her had been Dior’s guiding star.
The mountain she set her back against. That no matter how dark it got, how hopeless it seemed, there was one man in this empire who would never abandon her.
“‘In the fleshwitch’s defense,’ we murmured, ‘there is very little under heaven that can convince my brother to avert himself from a course already plotted.’
“Phoebe glanced to me at that. We could tell she was torn asunder here—the allegiance to her friend, to the truth, overshadowed yet not full-swallowed by the Mother’s blood. She could not betray Maryn. But nor could she be happy about being forced to lie to the girl she loved.
“‘This is not Phoebe’s fault, Dior,’ I said.
“‘Well, now we’re fucked!’ she cried. ‘With Ashdrinker lost, there’s no way to part the veil anymore! All this was for nothing! We’re fucking done!’
“‘I told ye she was broken, Flower. Nae lost. When Gabriel lay down his sword and took his daughter in his arms, I snatched up the blade.’ Phoebe glanced to the Mother then, torment writ in gold and tears. ‘Though I’ve failed ye, I hope this might make amends.’
“Talons gleaming, Phoebe drew that beaten scabbard from her clancloth. And with eyes downturned, she proffered the sword to the Grail. Dior’s rage dimmed a touch, a faint flame of hope rekindled.
But we saw that hope dulled by grief as she slipped the blade from her sheath and saw the damage done.
Fresh tears spilled from her eyes as they roamed that terrible crack, splitting the sword all the way to her hilt, and I understood the root of her sorrow.
Dior Lachance and Ashdrinker had slain Danton Voss together.
Carved their names into the pages of legend, formed a bond none might sunder.
And to see the blade in such a state was a bitter draught to swallow.
“One more taste of heartbreak.
“‘Oh, my poor Ash, what’s happened to you…’
“She ran gentle fingers over the silvered dame, lower lip trembling.
“‘I know, mon amie. I know.’
“Maryn stirred, speaking for the first time since we arrived.
“‘It yet speaks to thee? What doth it say? ’
“‘She’s sad,’ Dior whispered. ‘So sad. But … she’s not making sense.’
“She kissed the hilt, silvered lips to hers as she sheathed the blade.
“‘Hush now. Sleep. All will be well, Ash.’
“We heard desolation in that whisper, hanging our head.
“‘I p-promise.’
“‘We must warn Prince Philippe of this, Dior.’
“All eyes turned to Joaquin, gazing in pain at the girl he adored.
“‘The Black Lion’s army was factored into Augustin’s defense. If we’re to be short so great a number, plans will need to be redrawn. And miracles prayed for.’
“‘My sister and her husband bring fresh troops from Daggercoast,’ Reyne said. ‘And more vassals arrive every day from the south. Don’t lose faith, Joaquin.’
“‘We’ve faith aplenty, Princess. What we’re short of is twenty thousand men.’ The houndboy turned to the fleshwitch. ‘A host of duskdancers could fill that hole twice over. Have you any word from Brynne or Angiss about the Moonsthrone army?’
“‘None a’tall,’ Phoebe replied. ‘Aunt Cinna was to speak to the All Mothers on our behalf. She’d have surely done so by now. If she’d kenned Dior was a true daughter of the Moonsthrone, they’d have been swayed fer certain. But without that knowin’…’
“‘Can we get word to them?’
“‘How? I’m to sprout wings from arse and fuckin’ fly there?’
“‘Are all the de León soldiers lost?’ Reyne asked softly. ‘No survivors at all?’
“‘Dinnae ken,’ Phoebe muttered. ‘I took the blade and never looked back.’
“‘E’en if some did survive, they cannot be trusted.’ Maryn gazed about the room, voice gone cold and grim.
‘If the Black Lion or any of his capitaines lived through San Maximille, they must be viewed as enemies now. Fabién Voss be not above slaving those dearest to us to his dark will. He will do anything to stop us parting the veil.’
“‘He’ll not kill Dior,’ Joaquin replied. ‘Of that we’re certain, at least.’
“‘Think ye so, brave soldier of the light? ’
“Reyne’s eyes narrowed at that. ‘You truly think he’d…’
“‘Fabién Voss united kith of four bloodlines attempting to destroy Illia’s dream at Charbourg. He will stop at nothing to extinguish it completely. And if offered choice between seizing Dior or ensuring this darkness endures eternal, who can say what he will sacrifice? ’ Black eyes swept the room, pinning all to the floor.
‘We must keep careful watch, children. Gabriel de León and his cadre can no longer be counted among our allies. Sleepless and constant must be our vigil. Nothing matters, save the safekeeping of our holy charge.’
“Maryn walked to Dior’s side, sinking to her knees.
“‘For the Grail.’
“‘For the Grail,’ Joaquin replied, kneeling now.
“‘For the Grail,’ Reyne and Phoebe declared.
“We bowed low, afraid to meet Dior’s eyes lest she see the lie in them.
“‘For the Grail.’
“Dior said nothing, looking to the sword in her hands. The silence stretched into the uncomfortable, and none knew how to fill it. Joaquin finally murmured of reporting to the Prince and quietly took his leave. Phoebe kissed Dior’s brow and went in search of food and hot water to wash away the sins of her road.
Maryn and Reyne locked eyes; a silent battle of wills.
But the Mother relented with a smile, and glancing to me, gestured we should leave.
“At least most of us …
“The Princess stood alone with Dior after we departed, crackling flames in the hearth the only sound. The Grail looked hollowed out and worn thin; so many losses added to her tally, we wondered how many more she could bear. The dim light of daysdeath crept through the window, long shadows before her, naught but darkness ahead. Wordless, near soundless, Reyne walked to Dior’s side and, with a sigh, enfolded her in her arms.
“‘I’m sorry.’
“The sob torn from Dior’s throat came from her belly.
She quaked with grief, so hard and so long I thought she might never stop.
The Princess held tight, tears spilling down her cheeks.
She said nothing, for what words could comfort a daughter who’d just lost the only father she’d known?
Some loss is too bitter to swallow, Historian.
They say time heals all wounds, but in that, as in all things, they lied.
Truth is, some hurts run so deep they can never be mended.
Truth is, grim Father Time does not give. He only takes.
“‘He…’
“Dior gasped, sobbing so hard she could barely speak.
“‘Oh, G-God, Reyne he…’
“‘I know,’ she whispered. ‘I know, love.’
“‘I can’t b-believe it.’ She shook her head, buried her face in the Princess’s hair. ‘What am I going to d-do? What am I going to do without him?’
“‘Hold on. Hold on to me.’
“Dior sobbed again, clutching Reyne and struggling just to breathe. They wept together, those girls, holding each other in a sea grown so cold and dark it swallowed the very horizon. But Reyne whispered in that dark, a tiny flame yet burning.
“‘I’m here, Dior.’
“Dior sniffed thick, swallowing. And drawing back to look into her Princess’s eyes, she lunged for Reyne’s mouth.
The kiss was desperate, aching, and for a moment, Reyne returned it, filled with that same hopeless, heedless longing.
But soon she broke away, shaking her head, kissing the tears from the Grail’s eyes and cheeks but not her lips.
“‘We can’t, Dior. We can’t.’
“‘Oh, God…’
“‘I’m sorry.’
“‘I know. I…’ Dior hung her head, eyes squeezed shut. ‘I understand.’
“‘No. You don’t. If you did, you’d not have named me a coward, Dior. Nor a liar.’
“‘I’m s-sorry.’ Dior met Reyne’s eyes then. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
“‘Damn right you shouldn’t have.’
“The Princess smoothed a pale lock of hair from the Grail’s lips, sighing.
“‘I’d have come to you in time, love. I’d have been yours in all the ways you wanted, no matter what the Testaments say.
There’s no sin in the way you made me feel.
The way you make me feel. Even now, the way you look at me, I …
I want us. I want you. I would that we could be together, in every way we choose.
But even if we’re sisters and that can never be, know that I love you, Dior Lachance. Until world’s end and dawn dies.’
“Dior hung her head, brow pressed to Reyne’s. Shadows spilled across the floor from the burning hearth, and it seemed a great chasm had opened under her feet. Darkness swelled beneath her, so cold and complete none could have blamed her if she’d fallen then.
“‘I don’t know what to do.’
“‘You have to hold on, Dior. Just hold on.’
“‘F-for what?’
“‘For the moment things get brighter. For tomorrow.’
“‘But there’s no such thing,’ she whispered. ‘By the time it arrives, it’s today. Tomorrow’s a dream. A promise that breaks itself every night.’ Dior pawed her eyes and sighed. ‘Tomorrow never comes, Reyne.’
“‘But that’s the beauty of it.’ The Princess cupped Dior’s cheek and smiled.
‘It breaks every night, but each sunrise makes itself anew. And in that promise lies possibility nobody can foresee. Each new day can bring a miracle, Dior. Every dawn leaves yesterday behind. Tomorrow might be a dream, but it’s one worth fighting for. So is love. And so is this world.’
“Dior hung her head and whispered.
“‘You should go.’
“‘I want to stay with you. I want to be with you.’
“The Grail simply shook her head.
“‘I should get ready. I’ve a fitting in a half hour. For my wedding dress.’
“Their eyes met then. Emerald and sapphire and ice blue, shining with tears.
“‘I’ll be aright.’
“‘Dior…’
“‘I’ll be aright, Reyne.’
“Pale behind her freckles, uncertain behind her nod, Princess á Maergenn loosed her grip. We could sense the anguish in her mind, the unfilled longing in her limbs. She didn’t want to let go.
Not now. Not ever. Though they’d quarreled, Reyne’s loyalty was unshaken, and though they might be kin, her love was undimmed.
The want in her, the desire to throw all caution to the winds and simply be with this girl left the Princess shaking. Aching.
“But Dior had already stepped away.
“‘I wish…’
“Reyne shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“‘I wish it didn’t have to be this way.’
“‘Wish in one hand, Princess. Shit in the other.’ Dior sniffed. ‘See which fills up first.’
“Reyne pawed at her eyes and padded toward the door. But reaching the threshold, she turned back toward Dior, her whisper cracking at the edges.
“‘I love you.’
“‘I know.’
“‘I’m sorry.’
“‘… I know.’
“The Princess hung her head. Closed the door behind her.
“And Dior was alone.”