Chapter Twenty-Five - Marianne #2
“What did you come here for?!” snapped Rosamund as she flung her arms out to the side, “do you want me to tell you it’ll all be okay?
That what is happening to me won’t happen to you?
Do you want me to fix it? To make it all go away?
Don’t you think I would have done that by now if I could!
? I can do nothing, because it is all, my, fault! ”
Marianne took a step back as Rosamund continued her tirade, rising to her feet, “I was the one that took the plans. Not Dorian. And now he’s going to pay the price for it.
Months ago I would have gladly seen his head on a block, and now, now, goddess,” she gripped at her head, “the look on his face. The same look I gave him all those months ago. He hates me. I have ruined everything, and for what? For what?”
She had thought she was empty, but fire filled her, “my brothers are still held captive, goddess knows where! The last of my allies are currently rotting on Tidehall’s gates, and once again I will be forced to stand and watch as a man I love is killed by your fucking family!”
Marianne’s eyes widened as Rosamund pointed an accusatory finger at her.
She knew she was saying too much. All those secrets she was supposed to keep were tumbling out, and she did not care.
Let her hear, let them all hear. What did it matter now?
Rosamund expected her to run, expected her to flee her ravings and leave her to rot, but the girl did not move.
“I love him. I shouldn’t. I should hate him. Hate everything that he was and is. But I can’t. He let me see him and I kept secrets from him. I love him, and I betrayed him. That is who I am Marianne. I am a traitor. Just like my father.”
Because in the end, that was the truth of it.
That was why she was even in this place.
Because of her father. The man she had thought she had known.
The moment he had made the decision to betray the king he had also made the decision to betray his family.
His was their ruin. The disgrace of their name.
The loss of their home. The captivity of her brothers and the escape of her sister.
The death of her brother. Her mother. It had been him. He was the traitor.
Just as she was.
Rosamund collapsed to the floor and held her head in her hands.
She wanted to disappear into that nothingness but the fire within her would not let go.
She wanted to go back to feeling nothing, but her heart beat painfully against her chest. All the pain she had tried to push down came roaring back.
“It’s my fault,” she whispered to herself, “it’s all my fault.”
A cool hand pressed gently on her back.
“From ash, we bloom.”
At first, Rosamund thought she had misheard as she slowly turned around to look at the brunette, “what did you say?”
“That’s your families words, isn’t it?” said Marianne gently, “from ash, we bloom. If you’re right, if this is your fault, if you think you’ve burned this house down. Then, bloom. Fix it.”
“It’s not that easy-.”
“I never said it would be,” said Marianne quickly, “but…you have to try. You have to survive.”
“He will never forgive me.”
“Perhaps,” said Marianne and at Rosamund’s sob continued, “but he can’t decide that if he’s dead.”
“I can’t do this alone.”
“You’re not alone. I’m here. But I need your help.”
She looked round at the younger woman, and that’s when she saw her.
The hair was different, the eyes as well, but in that pleading face she saw the same one that had begged her to help her.
Evelyne.
No, not Evelyne, but as close to a sister as she had in this place.
History was repeating itself. A sister stood before her asking for her help.
A family. The people in this manor, the people in The Veil.
They needed someone to protect them, just as she had protected her sister all those months ago.
Marianne was still shaking. Marianne. The girl that had been terrified to even speak to her months ago was here, at Blackthorn Hall, a place that frightened her beyond anything else.
In the crypts no less. She had come, because she had needed her help.
Had she done that? Had she built that confidence in her?
Her sister was gone, but Marianne needed her.
Rosamund reached out and took the young woman’s hand.
She could feel the girls relief as she took it and slowly rose to her feet.
Marianne helped her, holding her arm as Rosamund leaned against her briefly before standing on her own two feet.
She felt dizzy, drained, but that fire continued as a dull roar within her.
“Thank you,” said Rosamund as she turned to look at her, “thank you for waking me up.”
“Anytime,” said Marianne, and with a hesitant smile added, “we all need a moment to be bit dramatic.”
Rosamund looked to the stairs that led to the upper levels, “I haven’t been kind to them.”
“People say a lot of things they don’t mean when they’re hurt,” said Marianne gently.
“LADY HAS BEEN ESPECIALLY MEAN!” shouted the goblin from further up the stairs, “ABANDONING GNASH!”
Rosamund let out a half laugh and sob as she rushed up the steps, scooping the small creature into her arms. It clung to her as tightly as she clung to him and she could feel the wet patches on her shoulders.
“I’m so sorry Gnash,” she wept as she held him.
“Lady no disappear again,” blubbed the goblin, “Gnash very worried. Lady promise.”
“I promise, I promise,” she repeated.
“Is that…a goblin,” said Marianne in awe.
“Lady is very perceptive,” said Gnash as she lowered the goblin to the ground and took his hand.
“Come on,” Rosamund said to them both, “we have work to do.”
She had no plan. No way of seeing them through this storm yet. No idea who she could and could not trust. But she had to do something. She had to protect them. She had to save Dorian.
He may hate her, but she would not let him share the same fate as her father.