Chapter Twenty-One #2
“When you were in Lionesse, he waited patiently for your letters. He longed to hear from you. But when they did arrive, they were meager scraps of your life. Hal and I were going to tell you when you returned, but we fought when I left for the Staffords. And then, just months later, he—he died.” I hung my head.
“You didn’t think of me for years, Roland.
How was I to know I’d return to court and feel—”
His finger stilled on his ring. “Feel what?”
I hesitated. Words stalled in my throat. A Mercury would cut through the silence and find the true meaning.
“You are not broken,” he murmured softly. “Loving never breaks us. It only binds us. Makes us stronger. That is the first lesson a Venusborn learns.”
I blinked down at him, eyes brimming. “How can that be true? I could never give Hal an heir. I would have denied him his future, his legacy. I would have cost him everything. Prospero meant for him to marry the—”
With a shake of his head, he scoffed. “I wonder when you’re going to stop defending dear Prospero.
Are you so blinded? Prospero made choices that failed us all.
I told you I was sent a letter after Hal’s death to return to Alvion.
Prospero claimed to want me by his side.
” A bitter laugh. “No. He bid me to return because he wanted to feed me to the king, to slap me onto a plate so Richard could go on ruling forever. He sought exaltation knowing I was to be the sacrifice.”
“I hate him,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure it was true.
“I hate him more, I assure you.” He noticed something in my expression then, and his eyes widened.
It settled between us. What I wanted to do. Where I would go.
I grasped for his hand, but he drew it away from me.
“For you, Roland. If exaltation isn’t the answer, there must be another way forward.
It was always Prospero. It all points to him.
Prospero and Hal argued the night before Hal’s death.
Prospero plotted to use you to save the king.
And Prospero will know about the star chart we found, what event is foretold. ”
“How about I hazard a guess? In six days, Richard will still be king, Cecily will be queen, and I will be dead. No one returns the same from Bastian, if they return at all. They come back wretched, famished—nothing will sate them again. Balthasar will dangle a reunion before you, so tantalizing, so sweet. That is his power, and he knows it. An end to the grief. An end to suffering. All the answers you could ever hope for. But Prospero won’t see you.
He won’t help you. He’s refused me already.
His ghost was oh-so-quiet when I called for him.
Do you know why?” He stood, backing me against the wall of the grotto’s cave, my spine meeting stone.
My chin rose. “Because he was ashamed to face me. He tried to use me, and he failed.”
I pressed my palms to his chest, felt his heart drum. “Come with me. Please.” Some resistance in him, in both of us, slid away.
He rested his cheek against my brow, breathing in deep. “I must return for the coronation. For the final round of the tournament, to claim my prize.” His laugh was low. Rough with spite. “My ghost will be with Balthasar soon enough.”
A wave of my panic broke. “Cecily must have a son, then, if that will appease the king.”
“And then the Guildfords would have their heir. Even if I could manage to become regent, when the king dies, the Guildfords would toss me out. I lose. Every way you look at it, I lose. It is over.”
“Roland—”
“Go, Mouse.” But his voice wavered. “I’ll call the council together and prepare for the inevitability that Fulke Roet will inherit. Perhaps if I cooperate, I can keep one of my houses and live forgotten in the country.”
“I am going to Bastian to try and save you,” I pleaded. “It is not like you to concede.”
“I’ll concede to the fate the stars have laid out for me.”
“Cheat them, then.” I reached up, brushing hair from his eyes. “As you always do.”
“I studied your birth chart, you know. I drew it, at first, to understand who you had become after so many years away.” He released a heavy sigh, the air cupped in my palm.
“May as well say it.” His eyes bored into mine.
I nearly sank to my knees, dragging him with me.
“You will love someone passionately, for your entire life. I hoped it was me.” A jut of his chin.
“So, go, won’t you? Go to Bastian. Call for Prospero. ”
He stiffened suddenly. Something else had occurred to him. “Will you ask for Hal?”
I shook my head.
“Because you cannot stand it?”
“Yes.” The truth. “And because I’ve lived only in the past since his death. It’s been years since I loved him. I’ve changed. I’m someone else.”
He searched my gaze. Then stepped around me, striding down the path, his broad shoulders brushing both sides of the hedge. “Take a message from me.”
“For Prospero?”
He laughed and tore a leaf away, twirling the stem between his fingers. “I have nothing to say to Prospero. For Balthasar. He will treat you well, as an honored guest, and see you returned safely to Alvion, or, alliances and trade routes be damned, I’ll slit his ambassador’s throat.”