He would respect that. He was Maevan, and a Maevan’s word was their vow. Valenians had their grace in etiquette and politeness, but Maevans had their words. Simple, binding words.
Allenach helped me to my feet. He called for a warm bath to be drawn for me back in the unicorn chamber and left me for the night. I soaked in the water until I was wrinkled, staring at the fire and hating my blood. Then I rose and dressed in the sleeping shift he had provided for me, since I had left all of my belongings with Jourdain.
I sat before the fire, the stone and locket hidden beneath the soft wool of my nightdress, and I fell captive to my own horrible thoughts.
I had arrived to Damhan tonight believing Allenach was taunting Jourdain with his claims on me. But now I knew better. . . . I was blood of his blood, a stag leaping through laurels, a cruel man’s only daughter.
And he wanted to make me into a queen.
I closed my eyes and began to draw my fingers through the tangled web that had become my life.
In order to resurrect the Canon, I would have to pledge myself to Allenach.
If I pledged myself to Allenach, I would either follow him, let him place me on the throne, or betray him and take the Canon with me to Mistwood.
If I refused to pledge myself to Allenach, I would not recover the Canon. I would still ride to Mistwood with the stone, as planned. That is, if Allenach didn’t lock me away in Damhan’s keep.
“Brienna?”
I glanced to the right, saw Cartier standing in my chamber. I had not even heard him enter through the secret door, so lost was I in my own dark contemplations. He came to my chair, knelt before me, set his hands on my knees as if he knew that I was drifting, as if he knew his touch would bring me back.
I watched the firelight kiss the golden threads of his hair, and I let my fingers rush through it, his eyes closing in response to my caress.
“He’s my father,” I whispered.
Cartier looked at me. There was such sadness in his eyes, as if he felt every blister of pain within me.
“Did you know it was him?” I persisted.
“No. I knew your father was Maevan. I was never told his name.”
I let my fingers slip from his hair and I leaned my head back in the chair, stared up at the ceiling. “He has the Canon. And he wants to make me queen.”
Cartier’s fingers tightened on my knees. I brought my gaze back to his; his eyes revealed nothing, even as I spoke betrayal. There was no horror, no greed in his eyes. Only a faithful shade of blue.
“Cartier . . . what should I do?”
He stood and pulled a chair close to mine, to sit directly across from me, so I had no other place to look but at him. I watched the fire spill light over one side of his face, shadows on the other.
“Four months ago,” he said, “I thought I knew the best path for you. I had come to love you, so deeply, that I wanted to make sure you chose the branch that would keep you close to me. I wanted you to go with Babineaux, to teach as I had done. And when summer’s end came, when I discovered you had disappeared without a trace . . . I realized that I could not hold you, that I could not decide for you. Only when I let you go did I find you again, in the most marvelous of ways.”
He grew quiet, but his eyes never left mine.
“I cannot tell you what to decide, what is best,” he stated. “That is for your heart to choose, Brienna. But I will say this: no matter which path you choose, I will follow you, even unto darkness.”
He rose, his fingers gently tracing my hair, down the sharp line of my jaw to the tip of my chin. A touch of promise, a touch of consecration.
I will follow you.
“You know where to find me, should you need to,” he whispered, and then left before I could so much as breathe.
I waged a war that night, for my heart was divided. Which father should I betray? The one bound by passion, or the one bound by blood? Did Jourdain hate me now, knowing whose daughter I truly was? There were some moments I thought my patron father had come to care for me, had come to love me. But he might never look at me the same, now that he knew.
I was the daughter of the man who had destroyed him.
I battled all night . . . pacing, doubting, agonizing. But when dawn breathed lavender light upon the windows, when the morning stole into my room, I had finally chosen my path.
TWENTY-NINE
THE WORDS WAKE FROM THEIR SLUMBER
I met Allenach at the doors of the hall, just before breakfast. He had been waiting for me, leather gloves on his hands, a fur-lined cloak knotted at his collar. I was wearing a Maevan dress that he had provided—a red woolen gown that fit comfortably close to the body, a dress for exploring and riding, with white, billowy sleeves—and a warm cloak and leather boots so fresh they still creaked.
I raised my brows when I saw him. Did he truly desire me to tell him my answer outside the hall?
“I want to take you somewhere,” he said before I could utter anything. “We can break our fast afterward.”
I nodded and let him escort me out to the courtyard, worried as I wondered why he wanted to draw me away from the safety of the castle. Two horses were already tacked, waiting for us. Allenach mounted his chestnut stallion while I took the dapple mare, and I followed him, cantering up a mountain that lay to the east of his lands. The fog was slowly burning away, minute by minute, as we continued to ride higher, the air becoming sweet and sharp.
The cold had sunk into my bones by the time he came to a stop. My mare eased to a halt beside his stallion, and I watched as the fog receded, brushed by the wind, leaving the two of us behind on a great summit. If I had thought the view from the castle parapet was breathtaking, this changed my mind.
The lands of Allenach stretched down before us, hillocks and streams and forests, green and blue and umber, docile patches mixed with wild meadows. My eyes soaked it in, this bewitching land. This loam was in my blood, and I felt it, felt it tug and pull along my heart.
I had to close my eyes.
“This is your home, Brienna,” he said, his voice rasping, as if he had not slept last night either. “Anything you want, I can give you.”
Land. Family. A Crown.
My eyes opened once more. I could see Damhan below, a smudge of dark stones, the smoke rising up from her chimneys.
“What of your sons?” I asked, finally taking my gaze from the beauty to look at him.
“My sons will have their portion of inheritance.” The horse shifted beneath him, pawing the earth. Allenach looked at me, the wind playing with his loose, dark hair. “I have waited for you a long time, Brienna.”
I looked back to the sprawling land, as if my answer lay hidden in her streams and shadows. I had set my mind, determined my course. I had gone to Cartier at dawn to tell him my choice, to spin together a final plan with him. Even so, I was astounded by how doubt still set a crater in my heart.