Chapter LVIII Truth
LVIII Truth
“They knocked out your tooth!” I say in outrage, running to him when he opens his arms to embrace me. “Good thing it’s not one of the front ones. Are you hurt anywhere else? Did you eat? Are you well?”
He wraps his arms around me with a shaky breath and pulls me close, burying his face in my hair. His body is alive and warm, yet I hug him back with care, afraid he might have bruises, broken bones, or worse.
“I am fine, love,” he murmurs. “I’ve been here a while, admiring my wife. You are formidable and such a good queen.”
I shake, running my hands up his back, down his sides, and through his hair. He smells clean, of my favorite soap, and he’s warm and solid. My husband, alive.
“I saved you,” I whisper, swallowing sobs of relief.
“You did. And so much more.”
“It was the only way,” I justify myself. “The only one I saw. I know we will have so much work, and I’m so sorry, but I…”
“Shh. Don’t apologize. Please. You did better than I ever could have done in your place. I am so proud of you.”
Behind me, Susan laughs under her breath. “Aww. See, Molly? That’s what you should look for in a man. But check what he has in his pants before you marry, too. There’s nothing as disappointing as a man with a soft heart and an equally soft dick.”
Magnar snorts into my hair and straightens. Susan offers him her hand, and they shake. I make introductions, but I sway on my feet, and after Magnar learns the last queen’s name, he picks me up with a soft grunt that makes my heart ache. So he is hurt, he just won’t confess it.
“Forgive me, ladies, but my wife is expecting. She should rest.”
They exclaim their congratulations, and I accept them with a wan smile. Magnar waves them off and sets out down the corridor, swallowing the distance in long, even strides.
“How were you treated in the dungeons?” I ask, running my finger around a swollen bruise marring his perfect face.
“Sidonius let me and Khay slaughter those who mistreated me, love. I am well avenged. You must be exhausted and hungry. There’s food waiting and a warm bed, hm? I haven’t slept a wink, and I know you only had a short nap.”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” I sob, ridiculously emotional now that all is well and I can finally drop my guard. “I thought you’d be dead if I couldn’t save you!”
Magnar stops with a small laugh and tugs me up, kissing tears off my cheeks with an inappropriately wide grin.
“That’s where we differ, love,” he says, winking. “You were so afraid you’d fail, but I knew you’d come for me, one way or another. I lay there and waited, only one thought in my head. ‘If anyone can do it, it’s my wife.’ I was perfectly serene.”
When we enter our apartment, our knights are already waiting with the food, all save for Khay.
“He went to get his sisters and the others,” Raduna explains. “Sidonius has officially offered them asylum, and he’ll give us carts to take them back to Roharra once we’re ready. You did it, Caliane. I am still amazed.”
I sigh in relief when Magnar lays me down on the couch, and Arvi presses a cup of spicy tea into my hands.
“All I needed was a shift in perspective, but the idea was originally Magnar’s,” I say with a smile.
“Mine? How so?”
I look up at my handsome, beautiful, just husband, and beam at him. “You said long ago we’d change it into the Table of Queens and Kings.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, yes, I am infinitely wise. But this was all you, love. My beloved. My magnificent wife.”
I take a shaky breath and put my cup away. It clatters a little, my fingers trembling. I fold them on my lap and face Magnar, who watches me with an expectant frown.
“I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” I say softly. “I’m not sure when it started. But… Things that happened to me… They made me scared. I am not afraid anymore, not of you. I love you.”
He is perfectly still, only his throat working when he swallows roughly. I wait, watching his beloved visage, his silver eyes, the strong features that aren’t any less dear for his bruises or the knocked out tooth. He is perfect, delightful, so blissfully mine.
“Say it again.”
I smile and reach for him. “I love you. Will you kiss me, please?”
He releases a sharp bark of laughter, then he’s on me, his hands framing my face, his eyes locked on mine.
“Again.”
“I love you.”
He kisses me softly, sighing into my mouth as his shoulders sag, and his body softens. I embrace him, and we spend a long time like that, finally resting, finally whole.
When Khay comes back, his eyes are swollen from crying, but his grin is huge, face beaming.
“I helped them get settled,” he says, his voice thick with tears still lingering in his throat. “All three of my sisters are alive and well. I have two nieces. It… It will take time. But they are coming home. They will be safe.”
We all end up on the floor, a pile of my men and me, crying tears of relief, laughing for joy.
We talk of things large and small, Khay’s nieces’ names, the colors of their eyes; the enormous rats Magnar saw in the dungeon, and how Sidonius jumped with excitement when he thought no one saw him after the coup.
We eat, we nap, we eat again. Magnar asks me to confess my love to him time and again, and every time he hears it, his smile grows wider and toothier. When Khay tries to put his finger through Magnar’s new gap, my husband snaps his teeth at him and accidentally bites off Khay’s claw.
When we wake from another long nap, the room lit only by the soft amber light of one lantern, Magnar presses me to him, his breath even, body relaxed.
“Will you tell me, love?”
I am silent for a while, gathering my thoughts. I think he must know already after my pointed questions during our night vigil, but I need to tell them, anyway. It’s my last monster to slay, and I’ll conquer it by making it known.
“My mom died when I was nine,” I begin softly, and my knights stir and open their eyes, all listening, all quiet.
“My father never remarried. I don’t remember that time well.
I was sad a lot. My days were filled with lessons.
My horse, Snowdrop, was my only friend. My father isolated himself for a time.
I suppose he was grieving. Then... I turned twelve. I had my first bleeding.”
I fall silent, smiling sadly at the ache in my chest, the memory of that shame and fear. No one had explained to me what happened to girls’ bodies when they grew up. I thought I was dying, and all my governess did was scold me for staining the linens.
“My father emerged from his shell. He began spending a lot of time with me. I was glad. I was no longer alone. At first… We went riding together, we had picnics outside, he read me books or told me stories. Sometimes, he would bring in musicians, teach me dancing. He… It was subtle. His hand would stray a little, an honest mistake, nothing to worry about. He would seat me in his lap a lot. I remember it made me feel embarrassed, like it was not quite right, but no one ever said anything.”
I take a deep breath and press myself into Magnar’s heat when my body begins to chill and numb as the monsters come out of their hiding nooks and dance in my head, phantom hands caressing me until I can’t feel.
“When I was fourteen, he started teaching me politics. Three afternoons a week, like clockwork, I was in his study, seated in his lap at his desk. He showed me maps, taught me some history, not much, and gave me problems to solve. ‘If the annual yield of wheat in Farneer is X, and our usual needs are Y, how much can we trade and what price should we set?’ They grew more difficult with time. And when I answered, or recited something he had me learn by heart, his… His hands would roam. He would squeeze my waist, touch my cheek, my neck. Innocent at first.”
Magnar’s breathing is faster, but he’s perfectly still, his hold warm and solid. I swallow my nausea, swallow the tears, and plow on.
“Then my thighs. My arms. If I stuttered or got distracted, he made me repeat the lesson. I quickly learned I wasn’t allowed to comment on what he did.
I tried at first. I asked what he was doing, if he could stop.
He grew cold and condescending, and it hurt, it was rejection, so I learned not to ask.
By the time I was fifteen, he was touching my breasts, trying to stimulate…
my nipples… through my clothes. It… It always made him frustrated.
Now I understand why, he wanted my body to react, and it didn’t.
I… I was frozen when that happened. My body was like ice. I barely felt it.”
“You balked when I tried to pull you into my lap in that inn,” Raduna says, his voice hoarse. “Now I see why.”
Magnar clears his throat. “I… Love, I made you sit in my lap a lot. Did you…”
I shake my head. “No, it was… With you, it was fine. Sometimes, I was reminded of him. Um. I hated it at the Table of Kings. It was a… Formal setting, just like my lessons. And all those old men, his friends.”
He releases a long, shaky breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”
“I forgive you.”
I gather my thoughts once more, and my men wait. I smile sadly.
“When I was fifteen, I asked my governess if it was normal that my father touched my breasts. I… In hindsight, I think I knew it was stupid. I wanted to see what would happen. Well, she went to my father and reported on me. I was there. She wasn’t concerned, asking what the hell he was doing.
She tattled on me. And he was livid. Oh, you should have seen it.
My father didn’t get angry like most men.
He grew cold. Like ice. He looked at me with all that wrath, and said I needed to learn a lesson. ”
I sigh, welcoming sadness and grief for poor Snowdrop, echoes of that terror, that helplessness, and guilt. Always guilt.
“He said it was my fault,” I say ruefully.
“He took my horse, the one I loved. They tied her to a pole using a short rope, and my father’s knight whipped her.
I had to sit there and watch while she screamed and tried to get away.
If I closed my eyes or turned my face away, my governess pinched me and told me I was weak, that I should have the gumption to face the consequences of my actions.
So I watched. It took hours. I had nightmares for years. ”
“Like my larunas,” Arvi whispers hoarsely, stroking my arm. “Only worse.”
I hum, the pain rolling through me in waves, at first powerful, than smaller. I welcome it all. I don’t have to fight anymore. And the pain will fade. It always does.
“He never violated me,” I continue after a while.
“With time, he started to lose interest. He barely touched me after I turned twenty. Sometimes, he would still pull me into his lap, try to push his fingers under my neckline. I would wake up some nights, hear him panting in my room. I think he was touching himself while watching me sleep. Back then, I had no idea what was happening. He claimed he wanted to see if I was safe.”
I fall silent, my tale of woe finally over. My chest is hollow, the place that usually crawls with shame strangely empty. Magnar doesn’t recoil, none of them does. I would have expected it in the past, but not anymore.
“I am glad you killed him,” I say, pressing my face into Magnar’s chest, where his beautiful, loving heart beats strong and steady.
“I wasn’t at first. It was confusing. My life was complicated, I suppose.
But you took me away, and you made things simple.
I can think clearly for the first time in my life. Thank you.”
“Thank you for telling us, my prize,” he whispers, kissing my hair. “I love you, Caliane.”
“I love you, too. All of you.”