Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (5 page)

I clenched my jaw. "It's always been for her."

4

DARIA

I
rolled over and rubbed my eyes. I didn't remember falling asleep because I'd been too preoccupied sobbing into my pillows. And sobbing and sobbing until I had no more tears left and my eyelids had swollen shut. I only hoped none of the servants had heard me.

It wasn't that I hadn't known what I was getting myself into—Gaia knew I'd run clear to the other side of the globe to avoid it—but coming here, physically leaving the man I loved in order to marry one I didn't…the impact of that decision had hit me with the force of a bullet train. If marrying Danton was the right choice—my only choice—why did it feel like my insides were being fed through a paper shredder? When I'd heard songs or read poems about heartache, I'd always thought the person saying them was just speaking pretty words, and that
heartache
was just a figure of speech, but my heart really did hurt. Each pulse ached and there was a constant fluttering in my tight chest, making it impossible to draw a full breath. If this was the right thing to do, why did I feel as if I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life?

Because it
is
the biggest mistake of your life. You have no business marrying Danton.

The worst part of it was I knew my conscience was right. Marrying Danton went against everything I stood for, everything I thought I was. My sense of morality screamed in protest at this vile treachery of my personal moral code. On Earth, I never would've considered something like this, but this wasn't Earth, and this world didn't operate by the codes I'd accepted and believed all my life. This world had its own customs and traditions and cultures and religions. It didn't matter what I thought I knew. I lived here now, and if I was going to survive, I had to operate according to
its
laws and statutes.

Yes,
I knew that
. I'd almost died so many times trying to avoid it, which was also why Stefan was in the predicament he was in. It was also probably why Alioth had fallen so easily to my uncle and his shadowguard. How many people had suffered or even died because of my refusal to accept the way this world worked? I knew better now, which was why I'd finally given in and come to Orindor to marry Danton…but still. My heart was far behind my mind, and I didn't know if it would ever catch up. I was learning that my heart was a vicious rebel. There was no taming it. It didn't listen to my mind. It wasn't persuaded or coerced. It went right along living and loving, feeling and wanting, no matter how much I tried convincing it otherwise. Which was why kissing Danton last night had felt as if I'd just impaled myself. My heart would continue loving who it loved, no matter what my mind said was necessary, and when I'd done something contrary to its wishes, it hadn't hesitated to let me know. I didn't know if I'd survive very long with my two most vital organs at war with one another.

I wrapped my hand around the little red vitality stone still clasped around my neck—the stone of promise Alex had given me. I knew I shouldn't have brought it with me, but when it'd been time to leave, I hadn't been able to part with it. It was all I had left of him, aside from these painful memories and the ache deep inside my chest. At least he was safe. At least
I
could help protect
him
now, and hopefully Stefan and Vera and Thaddeus and the rest of the world, too. And maybe, just maybe, I would eventually be able to convince my rebellious heart to agree.

For a long moment, I lay there, tormented by these thoughts and feelings that had ravaged me through the night. I held the precious stone while staring up at the ceiling through my aching and swollen eyelids. My bedroom ceiling was far away, but it was paneled with a grid of stained mahogany that helped draw it closer. The woodwork was precise and perfect like a checkerboard, and the molding that lined the room's perimeter reached down and covered about two feet of my walls, making the entire ceiling look like a decorative wooden lid.

Danton had apologized for the room last night…or was that really early this morning? Anyway, he thought this room was too small, and sure, it was smaller than my room at the castle, but as far as I was concerned, that was a good thing. My room at the castle was too big, as though it were constantly trying to put me in my place and remind me how small and insignificant I was. This room felt cozy with its heavy tapestries and large, mottled wall sconces that, even in the early morning hours, had given it plenty of warm light. There was a fireplace, a sturdy mahogany armoire and a few filled bookshelves. This room made me feel welcome, like an old friend, and I needed a friend right now. Especially since my conscience wasn't being one.

However, according to Danton, the "preferred" guest-quarters for someone of my "station" was currently occupied by Lady Isla and her father. Danton had said he would have the arrangement switched immediately, but after a lot of pleading and a little bit of arguing, he finally gave in and let me keep this room for the time being. But as soon as it was deemed safe for Lady Isla and her father to return to Campagna, I would be switching rooms, and, apparently, at that point, there would be no arguing the subject.

Sighing, I sat up in my bed and rubbed my temples. My head pounded and my eyes felt like cotton balls. Today would be an important day, because today Danton was going to take me to his father, Lord Commodus Pontefract, to discuss a treaty between Orindor and Valdon. I wondered if Danton was talking with him now, informing him that I'd come in the middle of the night to accept the proposal, and then I wondered what Lord Pontefract would think. I'd never trusted the man, but Danton had promised to follow through with their end of the bargain, and that bargain had better start today. It would take at least a few days to prepare their men for battle, and then who knew how long for them to march to the castle walls. Just thinking of Stefan up against all those shadowguard made my temples wrench. If only I'd accepted Danton's proposal sooner…

No, I couldn't sit here regretting the past. I was here now, and I needed to focus my energy on moving forward and use my new position to make a difference.

Traitor.

You know, Conscience, the day you actually take my side, I'm going to be worried.

Well, that would require you making a good decision for once, and since I don't see that happening any time soon…

I grunted, then slid my legs out from the red satin sheets and set my heels on the soft runner beside my bed. Danton had spared me the tour of the Pontefract estate last night, being that it'd been so late and I'd been so exhausted (and on the verge of collapsing into a heap of sobs), but even then I'd seen enough to know Orindor flaunted its patriotic reds and blacks everywhere it could—even in my bedroom. All the fabric was colored a rich merlot—some of which was embroidered with black threads. Even my nightgown was red. It was as if Orindor refused to acknowledge any other colors, or maybe that was just Lord Commodus Pontefract.

I stood and stretched, then crossed the wooden floor to my window. Heavy, theater-like draperies (also red) spanned the wall-sized pane of leaded glass, save the small column I'd left open last night in hopes that natural light would wake me at sunrise. Of course the sky would be dark with clouds, so the sun hadn't been able to do its job very well. I stared outside at the hedge garden below as my breath fogged a diamond-shaped pane of glass. It was chilly here beside the window, and a little drafty. I'd left my black robe draped over the chair beside my bed, but I didn't feel like putting it on. I liked feeling the cold, because it reminded me that I could still feel—that my heart hadn't withered into a dry husk. At least not yet.

The ache inside of me squeezed, and my lungs suddenly felt too big for my ribcage. Alex was too close, hovering at the fringe of every thought, and I knew I'd have to get this under control if I was to face Lord Pontefract and have any sway. I trailed my finger along the lead, my heart feeling as heavy as a brick. Alex had understood—I knew that. He'd always understood, well before I'd been willing to accept it myself, but that didn't make this any easier.

I hadn't been able to look back at him that night, because if I'd looked back, I never would've kept going. And he didn't come after me. Not then, not even when I met the others back in the hall and Master Durus had placed his amulet around my neck. Alex hadn't come to see me off. I knew we'd already said our goodbyes, and I knew he couldn't bear to watch me leave, and I was glad he hadn't come, but...there was a part of me that had wanted him to be there. There was a part of me—against all reason—that wished he'd tried to stop me. There was a part of me that wished he'd fought for me instead of letting me go, and that part broke my heart a little.

The garden blurred and my eyes burned, and there was a soft rapping on my bedroom door. I quickly wiped my eyes, snatched the robe from its chair, and threw it on as I cleared my throat and said, "Come in."

The latch clicked, the handle turned, and Anna, the young servant from last night, poked her head in.

"Good morning, your highness. I brought breakfast for you," she said. She had a light and sweet voice that didn't have a care in the world. I envied her for it. "May I bring it in?"

"Sure. Thank you, Anna." My throat felt raw.

She smiled at me, seeming pleased I remembered her name, and then she vanished, though only for a second. The door opened wider as she pushed it in with her elbows, carrying a large silver tray in both hands. She breezed into the room, light on her toes, and set the tray down on the table at the foot of my bed. She flipped over a red ceramic teacup and set it down on its matching red plate with a clank, and then she lifted the teapot and poured steaming hot liquid into the cup. She set the teapot back down, arranged a few other items and turned around to face me.

"I wasn't sure what you preferred," she said in that sweet voice, "so I brought you a little bit of everything. If there is something else you would like, please let me know, your highness, and I would be happy to get it for you. Lord Danton has made it perfectly clear you are to be made as comfortable as possible. This is your home now."

My home.

I swallowed to choke down the sob threatening to spill out again. I was surprised I had any tears left after last night. "Thank you, Anna. I'll eat what I can—" I glanced down at the full tray. "I think you've brought me enough food for breakfast, lunch,
and
dinner."

She smiled, gazing at me with honey-colored eyes. She couldn't have been much older than I was, but there was a lightness to her that reminded me of me…
before
. I didn't have that lightness anymore. "Lord Danton also wanted me to let you know he will fetch you as soon as he's finished speaking with Lord Pontefract. It may be a while yet, so feel free to make yourself comfortable and wander about wherever you like. He said he'd find you."

I nodded. So he
was
in a meeting with his father. I wondered how that was going.

"And there's this…" Anna pulled something from a pocket in her skirts and set it on the tray, upright and leaning against the ceramic teapot. It was an envelope with my name scratched ostentatiously across the front, in a lady's hand. "From Lady Isla."

"Lady Isla?" The surprise in my voice was clear.

Anna pressed down the folds of her skirts. "Yes, she asked for you earlier this morning, and then later found me and requested I deliver this note to you."

I already didn't trust it. The last note I'd received from Isla had been a forgery, and I'd ended up in a pile of fire ant infested hay. This one might just bite on impact.

"May I help you dress, then?" Anna asked.

I shook my head. "No, I'll do it." And when she looked a little offended, I elaborated. "I like dressing myself. It's one of the few habits I've kept from my life back on Earth."

She nodded slowly, eyeing me as if my dressing myself was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. "Until your gowns are tailor-made, you may choose whatever you like out of the wardrobe. Lord Danton has a cousin about your size who stays in this room when she visits every year with her mother and father, and I'm certain you'll be able to find something suitable that will fit. If not, please let me know immediately so I may find something else."

"Oh, that's really nice of you but I can just wear—" I looked around for my skirt and blouse and realized they were missing.

"I took the liberty of having them washed, your highness," Anna said. Though by the look on her face, it almost seemed as if she didn't approve of those clothes—washed or no.

"Then I'll find something in the wardrobe," I said.

She clasped her hands before her and glanced at the fireplace. "Did you…would you like me to start a fire for you?"

"Yes, please." I feinted relief. Before I'd come to Orindor, I'd made a conscious decision to pretend I still didn't have magic. I didn't know what Orindor had heard of my recent actions in Pendel, but considering Pendel's distance from Orindor, I figured the news was still far behind me, and by Anna's delicate hesitation, my suspicions were confirmed. I didn't want Lord Pontefract knowing what I could do because if the time ever came when I needed to challenge him, I wanted the element of surprise on my side. Especially since I didn't have the proper training.

Soft energy pulsed from Anna and light flared. It was only a spark, right in the kindling, but the kindling did its work and the flames quickly came alive. Only the gentry harbored great wells of powerful magic; the rest of the world was forced to be content with the small things. This, Sonya had told me once, and it had proven true over and over again. The world said the great lords were lords because they'd inherited their titles, but I'd come to believe they'd only stayed in power because there was no one else magically strong enough to conquer them. On Gaia, not all men are created equal. Powerful magic gave serious—and often very unfair—advantages.