30. Malicious Machinations
Malicious Machinations
Seated in the lush gardens of A'aravos Paravale, Cypress sighed to herself. She had always held back her impatience with ease. Now, though, that practiced calmness seemed to crack with every passing moment.
With the mask that had shrouded Caelith’s malicious machinations peeled back, Cypress found her patience slipping through her fingers, leaving her with a restless energy that made her legs twitch.
And anyway, wasn’t there something about a gentleman’s should never keep a lady waiting?
Torren had not yet arrived, but Athima had brought Cypress here nearly an hour ago with a quick, “The Prince will be right with you.”
Cypress occupied herself by wandering the garden, smelling blossoms that caught her attention.
A’aravos Paravale even hosted its own bushel of Cypress’s favored Fire Vine Flowers. The delicate spicy aroma made Cypress feel as if she were home.
Eventually, she resigned to wait while lounging under the open arched windows and kept an eye on the two entrances.
She was going to throttle Torren whenever he decided to appear.
They were supposed to talk, to plan their next moves. The Hounds were still running through the shadows. What if more had freed themselves while Cypress and Torren were galivanting to Jimemelle?
Torren needed the scepter, and Cypress had promised to help him get it. But now that Cypress and Torren’s faces were plastered on wanted posters across the kingdom, Cypress didn’t know where to begin.
She sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. The lengths now fell past her waist, as if the roads she had traveled were marked in the new growth. Cypress had left it free for the day, which was unlike her.
Her hair was the best tactile solution Cypress could think of to remind herself that she was no longer Captain Cy. The long braid she had always worn, tucked under her armor, felt like part of that persona's uniform.
The clothes on her back also served the purpose of reminding Cypress that she was not the King’s tool.
Like the night prior, Athima had given her a dress that sat low on her shoulders, with ties up the hips and long slits at either side.
Though because the heat of the day already pressed in on the palace, Cypress had also been given a garment Athima called ‘shorts’ that stopped around her thighs, leaving the length of her legs bare.
She had removed her sandals soon after arriving and walked barefoot through the garden paths.
Cypress imagined the ladies at Court fainting at her appearance.
But still, Torren wasn't here. A frustrated growl left Cypress’s lips as she rose to pace the gardens once more.
“You know, Lass,” Torren drawled, “If you’re having troubles by yourself, you can always ask me to lend a helping hand.”
Cypress whirled around and marched toward him. “You little,” she said, finger pointed at his chest.
Torren grabbed her hand and pulled their bodies flush with his hand around her waist. “What was that?” He asked. Storm grey eyes looked at her through heavy lids and thick lashes.
“You’re late,” Cypress said with a glare.
“Oh,” Torren crooned, then he said, “I’m sorry.”
Cypress almost opened her mouth to say it was okay. That familiar rakish grin flashed at Cypress though, so she instead bit her tongue, and pressed her lips together.
“How can I make it up to you?” Torren asked, squeezing their hips together.
Cypress pulled a face and pushed out of his grip. Everything was always some crude joke to him.
Torren let her go, but not without some hesitation. Cypress ignored the sudden jump in her pulse, willing her traitorous heart to calm as she looked away, steeling herself.
“Stop doing that,” she said with a gesture toward him and all his rakish swagger. “And start talking.”
Torren scoffed. “I’m not doing anything, but fine,” he said, raising his hands. “So.”
“So,” Cypress echoed, arms crossed.
“So Caelith wants us both dead.”
“Yep.”
“Why would he want you dead, Cypress? I know why he wants my head.”
“All I did was know you. So what did you do?”
“It’s not so much what I did but what I know. Who I come from.”
“You’ve mentioned your mother, is that what it all boils down to?”
Torren shrugged. “I suppose you could say that.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “Why don’t you come sit, and I’ll explain.” Torren held his arm out for her to slip her hand into the crook of his elbow.
Cypress supposed it was only the years of training, of learning how to act like a lady, like nobility, that had her doing just that.
Cypress slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and let Torren lead her toward a stone bench that had more flowers and creatures of Faerie carved into the backrest.
“My mother is Rosalind Lefay, heir to Faerie before she married Caelith. My grandfather still ruled Faerie at this point, and was not entirely thrilled about the match, but it was for the good of the realm,” Torren started.
Torren let Cypress pick her seat first, then sat with his body angled toward hers.
“What’s good for the realm is rarely good for the woman in question,” Cypress said under her breath.
He nodded in agreement. “Because of my grandfather, Thyodas’s reservations about Caelith, he put in a significant amount of time and resources in order to find out more about him.
Yes, there were the obvious things, like Caelith’s temper, but Thyodas wanted more.
My grandfather wanted to know if there were any skeletons living amongst Caelith’s pedigree and accomplishments. ”
“And I imagine, because Caelith had Rosalind killed, there were?”
“Thyodas discovered that Caelith is entirely human, and his family was lying about it. Ever since the first kings, there has always been a union between Faerie and Grethnah to symbolize our commitment to helping one another.”
Cypress nodded; it was tradition. But, she hadn’t ever heard of anyone dissenting from the fact that Cade was human, either.
“The only problem is, how do you have an entirely human heir to Grethnah, with generations of marriages between our people?” Torren asked.
The question halted Cypress’s train of thought entirely.
“You… Can’t.”
“Right. Which meant one of two things,” Torren said with his hands out as he explained the options. “On one hand, it could be that human blood is stronger, overriding every single pairing, thus keeping the Human royal line pure.”
Even with Cypress’s limited knowledge of the sciences, that didn’t sound right.
“Or, on the other hand, there is a very large conspiracy to swap children of the union with children born from human mistresses that has been going on for who knows how long.”
“But you survived?”
“I was not born at the Keep like every other heir.”
Cypress scrunched her brows together. “You can’t be sure of that.”
“You can look up the records yourself if you don’t believe me. But all other Queens were restricted to bed rest for the months approaching their labors. Why else would you do that if you did not want complete control of the situation?”
“How did your mother avoid the same fate?”
“Thyodas sent a guard with her from Faerie. Rosalind could go anywhere she wanted without the approval of Caelith because he couldn’t deny her a guard.”
“So you were born where?”
Torren grinned. “The Wylds.”
Cypress blinked. “Naturally,” she said, then took a few moments to arrange her thoughts.
“So, if what you’re saying is true, then the entire alliance between our peoples has been a deception?”
Torren nodded. “Yes, it does appear that way, but that's not the worst of it.”
Cypress closed her eyes. “What is then?”
“My mother was ‘exiled’ for heresy. The true reason? She discovered Caelith’s schemes. He’d been quietly buying properties and businesses from the Fair Folk in Grethnah, then arranged for their so-called safe passage to the Wylds, coin purses fat and heavy with gold.
“But then, he’d send his Crown Raiders in, butcher everyone, and then the raiders would split the spoils amongst themselves.”
Cypress sucked in a sharp breath, her hands curling into her skirt, unable to fathom the cruelty such a course of action would require. A cold ache settled in the pit of her stomach.
“Caelith had been quietly decimating the Fair Folk for years. My mother loved him, despite his cruelty toward her, so she confronted him with all of her evidence.”
“What did he do?”
“Threw it in the fire. They were separated within a fortnight, and his mistress Henrietta was crowned on the next moon.
"Cade was born ‘prematurely’. Everyone knew what was really going on, though. Henrietta had been pregnant with Cade before Caelith, and my mother had separated.”
“Why did Caelith exile Rosalind?”
“I was still heir, so exiling the mother seemed in poor taste, I suppose. But then my mother became too bold in her efforts to help the Fair Folk under Caelith’s watch.
I suppose the final straw was when she proclaimed Thyodas as King of the Wylds in front of the court.
Her charges of heresy and exile were served within the hour. ”
“And you? Why did you get exiled with her?”
“Because even then, I knew what he was. Caelith was cruel, hateful. My mother had raised me on the tales of the Wylds, of her people. Even as a boy, I felt far more connected to the Wylds than Grethnah… I saw no reason to stay with Caelith.”
“Cade?”
Torren shrugged, eyes cast to the floor. “We hadn’t acted as brothers in a very long time by then, Lass.”
Cypress’s chest ached, the pain radiating outward, pressing deep behind her ribs as Torren spoke.
“So with you and your Mother gone, Caelith could continue to slowly eradicate the Fair Folk, to wipe your existence from the Keep, from the hearts of the people.”
“Don’t forget about sending raiders after my mother’s carriage,” Torren reminded her and leaned back on the bench.
Rhene’s booming voice heralded his entrance when he was across the room, and effectively ended their conversation.