Page 5 of Her Blind Deception (The Dark Reflection #2)

Chapter Five

I paced the floor of my sitting room, expecting at any moment to hear boots pounding down the corridor outside. I didn’t know what Dovegni could do with his suspicions. Would he would arrest Draven for unsanctioned magic use? If he did, he would be sure to tear me down too. Only ordained druthi were allowed to use magic, and even they were strictly regulated in the way they used it. I was fairly sure no druthi could do what Draven had done in that meeting. And if Dovegni really though he was fall spawn… The creatures spawned from the fall of Aether were supposed to be strange and grotesque. Surely he couldn't really think Draven was one of them. I may have asked that very question in the past, but that didn’t mean I really thought he was. But Dovegni had seemed so rattled…

The more I thought on my confrontation with the Grand Weaver, the more certain I became that he would take action. In all the time I’d known Dovegni, I’d seen nothing but self-assurance from him. He was the head of the druthi guild, one of the most powerful institutions in the country, and his manner never let anyone forget it.

I’d never seen him afraid until today. What was I going to do about him?

Well, I could make Draven deal with him. It was his mess, after all.

The door rattled, and Leela entered the room with a bob of a curtsey. ‘He’s gone, ma’am.’

‘I know that. Where has he gone?’ I demanded, hurrying over to her.

‘I couldn’t discover it. He took a horse from the stables and left the palace grounds.’

I pressed my fingers to my forehead and squeezed my eyes closed as I took in her words. ‘He took a horse. One of the palace horses?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘So one of my horses then.’

‘His horses too now,’ she said quietly, and when I narrowed my eyes at her, she only hiked a shoulder. ‘You did marry him.’

‘Thank you for reminding me.’ Pacing to the window, I looked out over the palace grounds, my palace grounds, and drummed my fingers against the windowsill. I couldn’t see the stables from here. Those horses weren’t just farm nags. They were Linus’s prized breeding stock. If they’d let Draven take one, did that mean even the stable hands already knew I’d married him? I realised only a moment after thinking it that wondering why anyone would let him take something was ridiculous. I had, after all, just seen him compel the entire council into silence. How was I supposed to keep control of a man who could do something like that ?

‘You did say you would tell me why you married him,’ Leela pressed, drawing me out of my thoughts.

I turned away from the window and considered her, wondering how I could explain my relationship with Draven. How I could admit to my relationship with Draven. What was I supposed to tell her, that he’d gifted me an enchanted mirror and I’d paid for it with more than I’d bargained for? ‘I owe him,’ I said slowly. ‘For something he did for me before my life in the palace.’ When she raised her eyebrows a little, I deflated. ‘I know that isn’t much of an explanation, but can that be enough for now?’

‘Of course,’ she agreed, then she placed a gentle hand on my arm. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes,’ I lied, but I was suddenly so grateful for her endless calm, her unquestioning service, that I smiled. ‘Just let me know the moment Draven returns from his little gallivant. And dismiss that gaggle of geese next door.’ I jabbed a finger in the direction of my twelve attendants, who I could hear chattering through the door as they lounged around and pretended they were there to be of service to me. ‘I don’t want to see them for the rest of the day.’

She nodded and made to leave, but she paused in the doorway and seemed to ponder something.

‘What are you chewing on?’ I asked.

‘You might consider being a little kinder to them,’ she said, immediately earning herself a dark scowl. She held up her hands as though fending me off. ‘I know you think them silly and privileged because they’ve had different lives to you, but there are different kinds of suffering. If you spent some time speaking with them, you might find you change your judgement.’

I arched a brow at her .

‘Just my thoughts,' she continued. 'They might be of great use to you if you’d only see their worth.’ With that, she left. I snorted at her tender-hearted naivety; not something I would usually associate with my practical and shrewd handmaid. She was the one who brought me the stories of all the terrible things the courtiers got up to.

I glanced back out the window, but if I’d been hoping to see a horse galloping up the road, I was disappointed. There was nothing for it, then. I would have to go on with my day and pretend everything was normal. I mainly wanted to be visible, somewhere that Dovegni couldn’t arrest me without causing a stir.

I rarely enjoyed attending events with the courtiers. I’d attended my fair share before Linus had died, because meeting expectations was something he’d wanted me to do, but since I’d been regent, I’d felt free to ignore many of the invitations. They surely all knew I despised them. I certainly knew they despised me, no matter how much of a show they put on to make it seem otherwise. But given my new circumstances, it seemed wise to be seen out and about and trying to buy myself some good will. There was plenty of advantage in a conversation with someone influential. Show a prominent figure some favour and they might help turn down the heat of whatever ire was coming my way. How long would it take for news of the marriage to burn through the court?

My options of events for the day were a soiree with the wife of one of the council lords, the reopening of a newly restored sanctum, or a play at the Crown Theatre. The first two sounded dull, but I’d never been inside the theatre, nor to one of the fancy productions the nobility attended. Sometimes the girls at the Winking Nymph had put on performances as a novelty, but we’d sew the costumes ourselves, and I was a poor hand at sewing. The scripts were always pretty lewd to cater to the audience, too. Nothing like what I imagined a play at a real theatre would be.

Despite the stress of the scandal embroiling me, I warmed with anticipation at the thought of being allowed inside that grand old building and seeing the elaborate costumes and sets. A perfect distraction from sitting about, grinding my teeth down as I waited for my wayward husband to return.

The Crown Theatre was a study in contrasts. The magnificent collection of soaring columns, gilded carvings and grand arched windows was made only more imposing by the clusters of beggars flanking the wide staircase leading to a set of open doors, their hungry eyes fixed on the fine lords and ladies parading past, hoping they might be flicked a coin if they only stared hard enough. And they couldn’t do more than stare; if they stretched out their hands, or tried to speak to any of those attending the theatre, the elegantly dressed guards would chase them off with their ceremonial weapons. I’d come here and tried my luck alongside them more than once as a child, before I’d found more productive ways to earn money.

I didn’t look at the beggars, at their spindly wrists, their haunted faces, as I swept up the staircase. Most would be from the outer regions, driven to Lee Helse by the blights on the farming land around the Yawn. They’d come looking for another way to put food in the mouths of their children, only to find there were thousands just like them competing for work. Those poor who had been born to the streets of this city learned better than to beg at the feet of the nobility.

This world was built on a hierarchy. The only way out of being crushed beneath it was to clamber up the bodies of those above. Some would have the strength for that.

Most would not.

The doors into the theatre were flung open as I approached, revealing a grand entrance hall adorned with chandeliers of glisoch, knotted gold steeped in magic, pulsating with a brilliant glow that only looked warm. It turned my stomach. Despite my anticipation of basking in the theatre’s magnificence, I found no delight in the tiled mosaic underfoot, the painted frescos overhead, the gleaming white marble staircase beckoning. Not with all that blood above me.

I was the queen of blood and beggars. Queen of pandering and concessions. Queen of hanging onto the crown for dear life to keep from being cast back down to where I’d come from. And from the way the courtiers in the entrance hall were whispering to one another, I was now the queen of idiocy, too. Clearly, news spread fast. How stupid I must be, to let some insignificant lord no one had heard of secure my hand.

‘Your Royal Highness,’ courtiers murmured as I passed, bowing and smiling, their stares cutting into me from all over the room. I kept my expression benign, tried not to squirm, tried not to glance too often at the door. It felt like walking into a hive of bees trying to decide if the invader was a threat or not. I could hear them whispering. If I focused hard enough, I thought I could make out some of the words.

‘...remarried so soon... ’

‘...thinks she can do whatever she wants...’

‘...missing princess is so convenient...’

‘...a rat in a pretty dress...’

‘...a black ribbon on her arm as though she’s really in mourning...’

Wherever I went, I could hear them hissing. The room was hot. Too crowded. I needed air. I needed space.

‘...harlot...’

‘...witch...’

‘... whore ...’

The washroom door was like a beacon. I would have run to it if I hadn’t known how that would fuel the talk. But I walked fast, knowing how they were watching me, their hatred whirling behind their masks of congeniality. I reached the door and almost tumbled through it, closing it after me and leaning against it, gulping air into my hungry lungs. My chest felt too tight. I tugged at the fabric of my dress, desperate to loosen it, clawing at laces and buttons like they were the difference between life and death. I stumbled to the lounge in the centre of the opulent chamber, fell onto it, gasping and tugging at my clothes.

The door clicked. I would draw the blood of whoever had dared interrupt me. If they thought me some sort of heathen rat, then they should know better than to corner me.

‘Get out!’ I snarled.

There was hesitation in the silence, then tentative footsteps approaching. ‘What’s happened, Rhi?’

I recognised the voice. It hollowed me.

‘I can’t breathe,’ I gasped, my hands at my stomach.

‘Let me help you.’ Senafae’s hands moved deftly at my back as she plucked and pulled at the outer layer of my dress, burrowing down to my stays. The pressure on my waist and chest eased, and I gobbled down a few deep, unrestricted breaths, earning myself a little calm.

‘Thank you.’ The words were quiet and somewhat reluctant as I remembered our last encounter. She’d told me I had no business reigning over a kingdom. It still rankled when I thought of it now.

Her footsteps rounded the lounge, and she sat beside me. She wore a dress in apricot, embroidered with sunshine threads that glowed so brightly I wondered if they were enchanted. White gloves stretched all the way to her elbows and her blonde hair coiled in a crown on her head. But she still looked thin, her face gaunt, shadowed with suffering she hadn’t worn when we’d first arrived in the palace.

‘I locked the door,’ she said. ‘You’ll be safe for a few minutes, at least.’

I nodded, dropping my gaze to my hands as I focused on taming the panic that had gripped me and sent me stumbling in here. What a poor show for a queen to make.

‘Did that look as pathetic as I think it did?’ I asked bitterly.

‘You did look a bit overwhelmed,’ she admitted. ‘But I shared a room with you. I don’t think everyone could have picked it. You’re good at hiding your emotions.’

‘Not always.’ I remembered how I’d screamed at her.

‘No. Maybe not always,’ she conceded. We sat in silence for a while.

‘Is it true what they’re saying? That you’ve remarried without telling anyone?’ The question popped the silence.

‘Yes.’ There was no point denying it.

‘You’ ve made a lot of people angry.’

‘I know.’

‘Why would you do it?’ She tilted her head as she studied me. ‘You had what you wanted. You won the regency. You said that you wanted to be a queen without a king. Why would you tie yourself to another man?’

I didn’t answer.

‘I know there’s more to it than what they all think,’ she added.

My gaze tore back to her face, narrowed on her eyes. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that you’re in trouble.’ She took one of my hands in hers. ‘Whatever it is, there’ll be a way out. You don’t have to go down this path. I know people who can help you.’

‘What people?’ Was it my imagination, or did she know more than she should? Surely, the general rumours in that room didn’t revolve around me being coerced into a marriage. ‘Who have you been talking to?’

‘Does it matter? I’m offering to help you and I think you need it.’ She chewed her lip, conflict lining her forehead. ‘Let me help you. Aether knows, you’ve helped me before.’

I didn’t reply, studying her intently. There was something she wasn’t saying, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t like what it was if she told me.

‘Did you know I have a son?’ she said after a long pause, releasing my hand. As abrupt as the subject change was, if it was meant to disarm me, it worked.

‘You do? You never told me.’ I was running back over what I knew about her in my head, of the family who’d sold her to a flesh house, the letters she wrote, the pregnancy she’d ended and how it seemed to have sucked all the spirit out of her. A son.

‘He doesn’t live close. I don’t see him often, but I miss him every day.’ She touched the tacky woven bracelet she always wore, even dressed as elegantly as she was tonight.

‘How old is he?’

‘Two.’ The heartache on her face was palpable.

So, a recent pregnancy. ‘Who’s his father?’

‘Does it matter?’

That depended on the answer, but I didn’t want to seem insensitive. Still, I was calculating in my head. She’d mentioned having been to the palace before she’d been hired for the treaty celebrations with me, hadn’t she? When had that been? But I didn’t ask that. ‘What’s his name?’ I asked instead.

She smiled faintly. ‘Logan.’ She looked down at her hands, took a breath. ‘Whatever you’re doing, it isn’t just about you and it isn’t just about running circles around the nobility. Your choices affect so many lives now, Rhi. That’s the burden you took on when you chose to be queen. But it’s not one you have to keep carrying. And honestly, I don’t think it’s one you’re cut out for.’

I stood, my temper flaring. ‘You’ve already made your opinions on that perfectly clear.’

‘I didn’t handle our last conversation well,’ she said, remaining seated, her expression pleading as she looked up at me. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying to do right by you now. If you stay on this path, there’ll be consequences you don’t know you’re choosing.’

‘Then I’ll bear them.’

She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, her shoulders slumping. ‘I wish you wouldn’t,’ she said, and she sounded resigned, though I wasn’t sure why. Was she trying to warn me about something, or was this just another display of her lack of faith in me? She stared at the long mirror lining the wall for a few moments. ‘You’re not an easy person to love, Rhi,’ she said. ‘But I hope you know I care about you and I want good things for you. No matter what you think of me, I hope you know that.’

‘That sounds like a goodbye.’

She smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. ‘I don’t think it is. Not yet, at least.’ There was a knock at the door, drawing my attention back to the fact that we were in a washroom, and that I’d been hiding in here long enough to draw comment. Senafae stood. ‘If you are in trouble, come and find me. I really do know people that can help you,’ she said. Then she turned to the mirror and pinched some colour back into her cheeks as the knocking on the door sounded again. ‘Now, are you going to let them believe they scared you with a little gossip? Because I don’t think you’re so easily intimidated as that.’

I huffed a half laugh as I followed her to the door, and even though she still doubted my choices, even if I didn’t agree with her advice, I felt better just walking with her. When she opened the door, a raggedy little girl with frizzy red hair jumped back with a start, almost dropping her bucket and mop, one hand still raised to knock again. Senafae breezed past her to cross the room, but I paused.

‘Sorry,’ the girl bumbled, ‘I ‘ave to clean it.’ Then her eyes rounded. ‘You’re the queen,’ she whispered, and she stumbled into a curtsey that spilled some of the water from her bucket. ‘I’m so sorry, ma’am. If I’d ‘ave known, I’d never ‘ave knocked.’ Her voice wavered with fear. She was knock-kneed and skinny, and something about her hungry expression resonated with me. I liked that she was she was looking at me with awe instead of disdain.

The sense that I was being watched drew my attention across the room, and I looked up to see the ice-blue eyes of Prince Tallius locked on me, his lip twisted in derision. But then the corners of his mouth curled, and his hand shot out to wind around the waist of a woman approaching him, a woman in an apricot dress. Senafae. I stared at them as she smiled up at him, leaning into his touch. She was here with him? Was he paying for her company for the night? How long had he been a client?

‘Please don’t ‘ave me beaten,’ the red-headed girl whispered, pulling my focus back.

‘I won’t have you beaten for knocking on a door,’ I said, considering her dirty face, her shifty expression. I leaned down towards her and dropped my voice, unclipping a gold bracelet from my wrist. ‘Can you keep a secret?’ I asked. She nodded vigorously. I leaned in closer. ‘You’re no different from anyone else in here.’ I pressed the bracelet into her hand, bent her fingers around it. ‘They just have fancier clothes.’

As she stared open-mouthed at my gift, I rolled back my shoulders and entered the fray again. A new scandal for them to gossip over was hardly enough to pierce my skin. The hissing whispers could bounce off me just as surely as they’d done when Linus had died, and when Gwinellyn had disappeared. This was just the latest in my litany of offenses.