Page 27 of Between Wrath and Mercy

“Of course not, Em. I expect you to wage war.”

Rainierplannedtopetitionhis father, the King of Vesta, for forces and permission to negotiate. Rainier had a small contingency of his own, but not enough to take on the Folterran armies at the capital. He and Dewalt both explained that the abductors would not linger in Mindengar for long, but would take Elora straight to Darkhold, straight to the King of Bones, King Dryul. I shuddered at the thought. What could he possibly have in mind for my daughter? I hated that my only comfort was the fact she wasn’t already dead.

Since the guard was already on the way west through the Whispering Wood, Rainier wanted to meet up with them on the Mirastos Path, a few days north. Dewalt had sent word by messenger crow that the plans had been updated while he and Lavenia went to get us dinner. They must have made the plans before I even knew what Faxon had done. For some reason, it meant quite a bit to me, although I guessed it might have been more for the sake of the Beloved than it was for me and my daughter. Either way, I was grateful. We would take the Mirastos straight north, past Brambleton to the Cinturon Pass. It was the only way through the Alsor Mountain range, to the west of which sat Astana, Vesta’s capital. Rainier couldn’t rift us that far in one swoop, and it had been so long since he’d been on the Mirastos he didn’t trust his ability to pinpoint locations for rifting to break up the trip.

Once in Astana, Rainier would appeal to King Soren. I had little confidence he’d be able to convince his father. Rainier’s presence demanded respect, and he’d grown into a strategic and revered leader. His father, on the other hand, didn’t have a reputation for being amenable. The man I remembered was cold and calculating, seeming to view Lucia’s death as no more than an inconvenience.

A vivid memory of Rainier fighting with his father came to mind. It was a memory I’d forgotten in the years since but talking about the king had brought it to the forefront of my memory. In the hours after Rainier returned with me from the caves and the hours before Lucia’s burial at Ravemont, I’d seen Rainier and his father arguing. They were walking the grounds while I sat inside my room, staring out the window, enveloped in the shroud of grief which would be my companion for a long time to come. I’d watched in a daze, not truly paying attention, until I saw flames at the tips of King Soren’s fingers. His hands were at his sides, a picture of calm, while his son was the opposite, all flailing arms and what appeared to be harsh words. When Queen Shivani met them in the garden, I was relieved and closed my curtains.

“What if your father says no?” I asked, wary of his ideas. My daughter’s life was counting on his cooperation.

“He won’t.” Rainier’s eyes were a forest at night and held the same danger. “If he says no, I have enough pull. I’ll get us the soldiers we need.” Those eyes looked into mine, full of sincerity. “I promise, Em, I’m with you on this. Until the end.”

Dewalt and Rainier began to talk strategy, referring to different groups within the Vestian armies and where they would be best suited for a siege on Darkhold. How was it less than a week ago I was telling my daughter goodbye and to be safe, and now I was with the Crown Prince of Vesta, planning to go to war for her? I was feeling particularly useless. I had nothing to add to their strategies. I was so far outside my depth that just trying to listen to them was making my head ache. Not that any of the day’s events had been any easier to follow.

Elora was on her way to Folterra.MyElora—the baby I nursed at my breast, the toddler I’d taught letters to, the little girl who loved to read, and the teenager who was just starting to understand her responsibilities. The desperation I felt made my stomach hurt and bile rise in my throat. But underneath the sick taste, coating my throat and clawing through my insides, was anger. Bitter anger. I started to think of Faxon and his gambling. How could I have no idea what he was doing? I would have called him a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but Faxon was no wolf. He had always been terribly average. He had acted meek and mild, relying on his father to instill fear in me, but I’d never once doubted his love for Elora, even if he did the bare minimum as a father.

I started retracing my memories, searching for the moment things might have fallen apart. He’d always resented moving to Brambleton. After Lucia’s death, Faxon’s offer for my hand was the only one that still stood, and my father didn’t hesitate. Ravemont was thought to be cursed after what happened, so he was eager to hand me off before Faxon could change his mind. My husband was willing to risk a curse, but he didn’t expect to get shuffled off to the middle of nowhere with a small stipend to sustain us. But was any of it more than a nuisance when it came to keeping our daughter safe? I did everything right. I left my life at Ravemont behind. I left behind the chance of any sort of reconciliation with my friends, regardless of whether I wanted it at the time or not. It was something I had thought about a lot over the years. I poured myself into protecting her and running our household, only for him to waste all my efforts over debts he caused. I could feel it then, a knot growing in my stomach. A hard and sharp knot telling me if I ever saw him again, he’d be dead in one way or another. But I wanted to be the one to do it. I pictured watching the light flicker out of his eyes and did not feel anything but fury over what he’d done.

If I’m Aonara’s favored, you’re Hanwen’s. No one would ever cross you if they knew the wrath you’d bring upon them.

Lucia’s voice flowed through my head, like the ripples thrown off by a tossed pebble hitting water.

“You know, Lucia always hated Faxon.” I blurted it out loud. Dewalt and Rainier looked confused for a moment, as if what I said had anything to do with strategy. I’d spoken of Lucia earlier, and it was like a dam had broken. I wanted to talk about her with people who loved her, I’d been deprived of it for so long.

Lavenia snorted.

“Who didn’t?” I glanced at her, surprised. No one but Lucia had ever voiced how they felt about him. Not even Rainier, other than that last day when he told me not to marry him. But my father had already accepted the offer by then. Dewalt’s head turned slightly to his best friend, an expression on his face I couldn’t quite read.

“I barely knew him. I only met him once, that last summer at the cottage.” Dewalt didn’t take his eyes off Rainier as he spoke. I didn’t know why he seemed worried about Rainier; it wasn’t as if he’d wanted me either. He’d said as much before we felt the impulses in our arms, only moments after he’d slid himself inside me, pulling us from the cavern before we had time to finish anything, let alone our conversation. My parents were bound to give me to the highest bidder as soon as possible, and, as luck would have it, Faxon was the only bidder.

“I didn’t know him either,” The laugh I gave was cold. “He was persistent with Father, and he was the only one still interested after—after Lucia died. I never understood her hatred for him, though.”

“The others withdrew their offers?”

“You knew there weren’t many to start with. Father accepted the morning of the burial, the same morning the other offers were rescinded. He was the only one who wanted me.” My laugh was bitter. Faxon’s dreams of being the lord of an estate such as Ravemont were not fazed by a potential curse. I glanced up to Dewalt and saw him snap his jaw shut, eyes wide at Rainier, who let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it.

“You know gods damn well that’s not true.” Rainier finally looked at me then, eyes violent, and I wished he hadn’t.

“Do I? Only one offer sat on my father’s desk that morning, Rainier.” I tried to match the anger in his eyes, but all I felt was sadness. And I was sure he saw it. He never took back his words, never said anything to make me think otherwise. I’d begged him on the cliffside, but he didn’t give me another option, hadn’t wanted to. He’d told me the same thing in the cavern the night before. We couldn’t. But none of it mattered. Lucia was dead, and I didn’t care what happened to me. I didn’t care if my parents wanted to get rid of me. “I didn’t have a choice.” My voice was almost a whisper, my eyes only on Rainier, the others forgotten.

He watched me for a moment, contemplative.

“Maybe none of us thought we had choices back then. But we were wrong. We did. We had choices, and we still do.” The violent flicker in his eyes had gone out, replaced by sadness which matched mine.

Still do.

“Lucia knew you deserved more, Emmeline, needed more. And she knew Faxon couldn’t give it to you. It’s a shame she turned out so right.” Rainier shook his head and sat up straight, graciously ending the conversation.

I sat still for a few minutes. He was right though; Lucia had always wanted more for me. She knew I didn’t want Faxon. Even if I had never confirmed to her I’d wanted Rainier, it was plain enough I would never desire the man I ended up marrying. She even thought I could be appointed to her royal guard, which, looking back, was almost laughable. She was a dreamer. And I hadn’t accomplished a single thing she’d dreamt for me. Except maybe to have a family, but even that was flawed thanks to my traitorous husband. I hung my head, sensing the heat of Rainier’s gaze on me, feeling a rise of flushed skin up my neck.

“He thought he’d be Lord of Ravemont by now. Is that why he’d betray us?” My voice was small. I was grasping for some way this wasn’t my fault. I hadn’t seen what he was doing. I hadn’t loved him the way someone should love their husband. I’d been a fool to trust him.

“Does it matter why he did it? Does it change anything?”

I shook my head no. Either way he would bleed.

Myeyespoppedopen,and I was disoriented for a moment. I was in bed. I must have fallen asleep on the floor listening to Dewalt and Rainier strategize. Lavenia was asleep next to me, and I had a vague memory of Rainier rousing me and helping me get into bed, pulling the blankets over me. The door creaked shut, and I realized it must have been what woke me. The tall figure in the doorway turned, bolting the door, and when a streak of moonlight from the window hit Rainier’s face, I relaxed.

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