Chapter 21
Cate
The guards are posted in front of my door from that point on.
Food is delivered three times a day, still warm and hot and delicious, the only difference being that I’m forced to eat alone in my room, a room I’m not allowed to leave.
But it means Eliza is still here, which gives me hope that some of my friends are still here.
Eventually they will have to wonder where I am, and when they come and find me locked in my room, surely then they will know Lady M is the one behind all of this.
The door separating my room from Andra’s has been permanently shut.
I heard the banging from my side of the room and when I went to push through the door, I found it wouldn’t be budged.
I know she’s not in there anyway, that there is much more than a door separating us, but it still feels like a link to my sister has been severed.
No one else has come to see me, or at least, no one has been able to make it past the guards.
It’s been three days, and I have no idea where my sister is. No idea what happened to Callum. Who killed King James. Where my friends might have gone—or been taken.
The urge to see Callum again, to try to explain, to hold him close, itches under my skin. Worse than the loneliness and the uncertainty, the ache for him is physical. I need him in a way that would be frightening if I allowed myself to think on it too much.
The morning of the fourth day, the door opens and instead of a tray of food sliding across the floor, an actual person strides into the room.
Not strides. Limps. Practically falls into the room.
I didn’t think it was possible, but Harold looks worse than before.
The sight of him sends a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through me. Harold is safe, and that news brings no small measure of relief.
But what about Callum? If Harold is here, what are the chances Callum is still alive?
I rush to Harold’s side, helping him into a chair. “Where’s Andra? What happened with the king? Why haven’t you seen Bianca? Callum, Harold, what happened to Callum?” The questions fall from my lips faster than he could possibly answer them.
Harold grimaces, shifting in the chair until he lands in a comfortable position. “A drink would be lovely, thank you, Cate.”
I glare at him, though I heed his request, pouring him a measure of whisky.
I would take some for myself, but I’m running low and something tells me the guards won’t be replenishing my stock.
I hand Harold his glass and sit opposite him.
“It’s been more than three days, Harold.
I did what you asked, and it’s been three days and I still have not seen my sister. ”
“Andra is fine.” He sips the whisky, wincing as it goes down.
“And Callum?”
“Callum is fine too, as far as I know.” He holds up a hand to pause my next interruption.
“Why don’t you just let me speak, Cate?” He swigs the remainder of his drink, setting the glass down with a sigh.
“I killed King James. Callum was there, but he escaped. Andra is safe, so is Bianca, so is everyone else.”
“Where is she, Harold?” I don’t feel nearly as comforted by his assurances as I want to be. How can I trust his word?
“I can’t tell you.” He hesitates for a second. “But Andra is in a safe place, one that I know well.”
My brow furrows, tucking that piece of information away for later.
I push out of my chair and stride across the room.
“Look around, Harold. I’ve been trapped in this room for days with no word.
You’ve taken my sister and my friends from me.
We used to be a family. And now all of a sudden you’re out here committing murder and kidnapping. Is she worth it?”
“You have to trust that I know what I’m doing here, Cate. Everything I’m doing is for all of you, everyone at La Puissance.” Harold’s shoulders sink in on themselves. “Besides, I couldn’t stop it if I tried.”
“What does that mean? You can take control again, Harold. We will all stand behind you. If money is the problem, we will find another way to raise the funds.”
He shakes his head and it’s sad. “We’re Bonded, Cate. Grecia…Lady M and I. We’ve been Bonded since we were kids. I can’t go against her.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “Bonded?”
I know the basics of the term, but I’ve never known anyone who was part of a Bonded pair. All I really know is that it would be almost impossible for them to be parted, maybe impossible for one to live without the other. Suddenly everything that has happened begins to make a lot more sense.
Harold nods and his eyes find mine, staring deeply, as if he truly needs me to hear and understand. “When a couple Bonds, Cate, the need for each other is insatiable, indescribable. We can’t be apart from one another for long, or it causes physical pain.”
My stomach roils, not just because of what this means for Harold, but because the sensations he’s describing sound familiar. But it can’t be. We can’t be. “But you just met.”
His lips pull tight, his hand clenching into a tight fist on the table. “We didn’t just meet. We didn’t even just get married.” He runs a hand over his beard, his normally neatly trimmed facial hair gone scraggly. “There is so much you don’t know, Cate.”
I reach across the table for his hand. “So tell me.”
“I can’t.”
I shake my head, wondering what happened to the fierce leader who would have given his life to protect those in his care. “What exactly is your plan, Harold?”
“You know I can’t tell you that either. But you also need to know I’m doing this for your own good.”
I scoff, gesturing to the room I’m being held captive in. “Forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe right now.”
Harold pushes out of his chair, the movement seeming to send waves of pain through his frail-looking body.
“You don’t have all the information, and if you can’t take my word, then I don’t have anything more to say to you.
” The change from sad to angry is instantaneous and I wonder if this is an effect of the Bond.
Is he starting to take on her character traits? Is that common for Bonded pairs?
Panic darts through me. I need him to stay.
This is the most human contact I’ve had in days, and right now, Harold is my only link to the people I care about.
“Wait, Harold. Please. I did what you asked of me and I just want to see my sister. Let me see her and I will do whatever you want me to do.”
His voice softens, but his words are sharp. “None of this would have even happened without your sister.”
I freeze, hoping I’ve misheard him. “What do you mean, Harold? Andra is a victim in all of this.”
He shakes his head sadly. “She told her what she Saw. If only she had kept it to herself.”
I cross to his side of the room, grasping his bony forearms in my hands and just managing to stop myself from shaking him. “What did she See, Harold?”
He meets my eyes, shadows haunting his. “She told Lady M that a MacVeigh would win the election. Her vision is what set this whole thing in motion.”
I drop Harold’s arms, the contact overwhelming me. “Lady M was forcing her to read for hours at a time with barely a break. Of course she told her what she Saw. You cannot possibly blame her. Please just let me see her!”
The man I once considered a father, the man who took us in, sheltered us, raised us as if we were his own, looks at me with not a single hint of emotion in his dark brown eyes. “I don’t think I can, Cate. I wish I could, but I just can’t.”
And without a backward glance, he opens the door and walks away.
It isn’t until later that I notice the slip of paper he’s left behind. It’s a crude drawing, a map of some kind, and I can’t help but wonder if this is his small act of rebellion, of standing up to the woman who’s taken control of his life. Now I just need to figure out what to do with it.
—
Hours more pass without a hint of word from anyone. I eat my food and sit in the silence and think about all the ways I fucked up. If I had been paying closer attention to those around me, maybe I could have stopped all of this before it got out of hand.
But more than anything, I think about the Bond.
Is that what this is, this undeniable tie between Callum and me, this physical ache in my chest and coursing through my limbs at the absence of him?
And if so, do I owe it to Callum to try to break it, if such a thing is even possible?
Does he deserve the chance to live a life free of me?
Sometime after dark, the door to my room opens, the soft glow from the hallway lighting a stripe on the carpet.
I sit up in bed, the effort of the small movement proving to be exhausting. I should care who’s coming into my room in the middle of the night, but I can’t seem to find anything more than indifference.
“Cate?” a familiar voice whispers.
“Bianca?”
“Why are you in bed?” She rustles around near the door, finding a gas lamp and turning it on.
“It’s nighttime.”
“It’s only seven o’clock, love.”
I shrug. Time has lost all meaning over the past couple of days.
Bianca crosses the room, perching at the foot of the bed. “How are you?”
I shrug again. I don’t have the energy to tell her I told you so.
“Harold told us all you’ve come down with the flu and to stay away so we don’t catch it, but I’m not picking up any signs of illness.” Her brow furrows, and she turns on another light, one that shines over my face.
I wish the warmth didn’t feel good, but it does. I turn toward it.
Bianca sucks in a breath as she fully takes me in. “What’s going on, Cate?”