A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) (32 page)

"What cause?" Kila asked.

Sighing, the chief stopped walking and faced him. "I only told you part of the truth when you arrived in the city. For years I've been working with an organization devoted to uncovering the truth about what happened to the Astoran royal family. I've long suspected the trade Houses were involved, but I have no proof. I'd hoped you might get close to Burl, help me find something incriminating, but until I could determine your loyalties, I couldn't tell you anything. I couldn't risk you going to Burl, or Burl extracting the information from you against your will."

Kila didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand he understood why Flim had to be as cautious as she had been, but on the other hand he felt used. How could she send him into this whole mess so ignorant and unprepared?

When he looked up at her, her gaze held no apology, and he understood. Some things were bigger than any one person. Flim was concerned with the fate of an entire realm, not the welfare of one Enforcer. Though he wasn't pleased that she had used him, he knew why she had, and he had to admit that were he in her shoes he might very well have done the same.

Yet he didn't care about Flim's cause. He didn't care about anything except what had happened to Cianne.

Cradling her hands in his, he peered up into her face. "What are you going to do?"

"I can't stay here," she said, tears flooding her eyes. "Not after all I've learned. Not knowing that my father—" When she inhaled, her breath caught on a sob. "And my mother, I have to see my mother."

"Can you get her to her mother?" he asked Vivie.

"Yes. Annalith has had several contingency plans in place ever since she left."

"What will you do?" Flim asked Kila, regarding him warily.

"I'm not going to go running to either Burl or House Staerleigh, if that's what you're concerned about," he said. "I don't know what I'll do, but I can promise you that I will keep my mouth shut."

Relief smoothed away the lines on her forehead, but her mouth turned down in disappointment.

That was all he intended to say to her, though. Anything else he had to say was for Cianne's ears and hers alone.

"Don't go back to the enclave," he said to her. "It's not safe for you there."

"No one saw me. They would never have said as much as they did if they had. I'm safe for the time being, and I can't leave without telling Lach the truth," she said, pleading with him.

"That's not wise," Flim barked.

"I won't have him living a lie, like I was." Cianne's lip curled in a snarl. "I will not hide the truth from him, like it was hidden from me. He deserves to know what happened to his father."

"But—"

Vivie cut the chief off with a gesture. "Are you certain, Cianne? Doing this will put you both at risk, and there's no way of knowing how he'll react."

"I've never been more certain," she said, rising from her chair.

"Come here immediately if you fear you're in danger," Kila said. "I'll help you get out of the city." His heart felt like it was squeezing its way up his throat. He wanted to plead with her to stay with him, so that he could try to help protect her, but he knew he couldn't keep her from this. She would never forgive him if he did.

"I will," she said, giving him a quick embrace.

Without saying a word to Flim or Vivie, she walked out his back door.

"You had better keep her safe," Kila said to Vivie in a low, dangerous tone.

"I will," she said, her face a mask of determination. "I won't let her down again."

Chapter 31

Never before had Cianne known real torment until that next day at her father's manor. She wondered how she would be able to look at him, how she would be able to function around him without leaping on him and wrapping her hands around his neck, choking the life from him. He and Moiria were far more alike than she had ever imagined, both willing to sacrifice anything and everything to fulfill their own ambitions. Even those they purported to love.

Cianne's hours were numbered, she was certain of it. It had become abundantly clear to her that her failure to unite herself in marriage to Lach would result in her father's deciding she was a liability. He might not kill her, but he would keep her under his thumb, trap her in a position from which she would have no hope of extricating herself. Abject loyalty to the House, no matter its actions, was the one and only way to ensure her security, and she would never comply.

Everywhere she looked, Cianne feared conspirators were lying in wait, base criminals who had plotted to commit regicide and would not blink an eye at the necessity of taking her life as well. They had helped arrange the indiscriminate slaughter of an entire family. No one had been spared, not one man, woman, or child. In one fell swoop, House Staerleigh, House Mallay, House Rolland, and who knew how many other Houses and nobles, were all guilty of the bloodiest massacre Astoran had ever known, and she would never forget it.

Not everyone. Not all of them. Think of Vivie. Think of all those members who are like you were once, who have no idea of the depths to which the House will sink. Do you really think every one of them would applaud the Elders for what they've done?

No, she wouldn't be like her father. She wouldn't view everyone who wasn't on her side as an enemy to be destroyed. That she would do everything in her power to bring to justice those who had actively participated in the crime wasn't in doubt, but she would never be a party to harming innocents. Everything she did from this point forward she did in service to her realm, to Astoran and its innocent citizens, who had no idea the wolves were living amongst them.

"You seem preoccupied this morning, my dear," her father remarked as they ate breakfast.

Her hand tightened around her fork and she contemplated using it as a weapon, imagined plunging it deep into his black heart. Perspiration prickled along her hairline as she forced herself to respond. "I'm worried about Lach. He's leaving soon, and I hope he'll have a safe, prosperous journey."

"He will. Cearus favors Lach more than he favors any other member of House Staerleigh."

"Yes, Lach is very blessed," Cianne said, the words tasting like ash, threatening to choke her.

"What are your plans for the day?"

Has he always asked me that, feigning interest in my days while maintaining a vigilant watch over my actions? Or is this a new thing, born of his suspicions that perhaps I'm not the dutiful slave he and the House demand I be?

"I've asked Lach to have lunch with me. He should be here shortly."

Smiling his pleasure, her father reached for her hand, and she commanded herself not to stiffen as his warm, dry hand covered hers. Her skin crawled, the sensation so intense she longed to scream and scratch herself until she bled.

"Have a wonderful time. I'll be home for dinner tonight."

"I'll see you then. Have a pleasant day, Father." Her practiced smile appeared relaxed, but inside she was as rigid as steel.

The minutes felt like hours as Cianne prowled around her sitting room, waiting for Lach to arrive. Disjointed thoughts ran through her head, fragments of plans, snippets of ideas, but she couldn't focus on any of it, no matter how hard she tried. Would her mind ever be quiet again? How could she be expected to live with the weight of this knowledge crushing her?

I'll be doing something. That will be my salvation. I will join my mother, and I will devote myself to helping her and her allies.

Tempting as it was to track down Vivie and pump her for information about who was a part of their cause, how many allies they had, what sort of resources they commanded, Cianne resisted the urge. She didn't intend to remain in the city for long, and as excruciating as it was to continue with her subterfuge for even a short time, she would bear it, for her own sake and that of her mother. That was the light that shined through the darkness, the knowledge that she had a way out.

Yet her feelings about her mother were also conflicted, that she couldn't deny. While she had understood the logic behind Vivie's explanation, logic could do nothing to soothe her wounded emotions. Her mother had left her without attempting a rescue, abandoning her to the care of plotters and assassins. How could she have trusted Cianne to the man who had tried to kill her? Did she honestly think that a man desperate enough to agree to his wife's murder would make any exceptions for his daughter?

A knock on her door interrupted her train of thought, and she felt the briefest burst of relief, apprehension following hard on its heels. She had no idea what Lach would do when she told him the truth about his father's death. What if she couldn't keep him quiet and he exposed them both? His behavior had been so volatile that she feared he would explode. But what other choice did she have? She owed him at least this much.

Stomach churning, Cianne called out, "Enter."

"Captain Stowley is here," Vivie said, shooting a cautionary glance at Cianne.

She noticed that Vivie was taking care with her finger, but it wasn't splinted, so Cianne must not have broken it. Finger injuries were so common amongst the servants that no one would pay any attention to Vivie's—not that Cianne had been concerned about that when she had attacked Vivie.

"Thank you, Vivie. Show him in."

"Yes, Miss," Vivie said, withdrawing with a bow. She betrayed no visible reaction to Cianne's disregarding her concern.

"Cianne," Lach said, walking into the room and taking her by the hands. He was clean-shaven, his hair brushed back in the neat waves she remembered so well. He was far thinner than he had been a few short weeks ago, and his face still bore evidence of strain, but his condition had improved considerably, surprising her. "I was so pleased to receive your invitation. I had feared that I…" He let his voice trail off delicately.

She bit back the urge to laugh. To think that her worst fear had once been breaking his heart by refusing to marry him. Now she would be the one to destroy every sacred truth he had ever held dear, and her urge to laugh dissolved into an urge to weep.

"I have something to tell you," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

"I know, Cianne," he said, squeezing her hands and releasing them. "There's no need to put it into words. I understand. I won't pretend it doesn't hurt me, but I've no wish to lose your friendship."

"No, it's not that," she said, the words spilling out in a hasty rush.

He frowned, and her heart ached at his attempt to conceal his wounded feelings. "What is it then?"

"Lach, I… I have no idea how to say this to you," she said, pushing her hair back in agitation. She wrung her hands and paced before the fire, one side of her blazing hot while the other was chilled to the bone.

"Whatever it is, Cianne, you can tell me," he said in a gentle voice.

Swallowing hard, she forced the words out. "You were right about your father. He didn't—"

"Cianne," he said, holding up a hand. His face was smooth, but his features seemed to ripple, like the deceptively placid surface of the seas before a storm. "In my grief I said terrible things, things that weren't true. Things I regret saying. I was out of my head, and I'm learning to come to terms with my loss."

His frank words surprised her, knocking her off course. "No, you weren't. Your father—"

"My father killed himself," he said, his tone so matter-of-fact that Cianne froze, staring at him, her mouth hanging open.

"He killed himself," Lach repeated, his voice softening. "I have to accept that. I have to move on."

"He didn't, though," she said, desperate for him to believe her. "Your mother, my father, the Elders, they staged his death to look like a suicide, but it wasn't. They killed him. They did it because they—"

"Who's been filling your head with such outlandish stories?" he asked, his brow furrowing, face darkening. "Why would you ever believe something so insane?"

"Because it's true," she said, her hands balling into fists in anger and frustration. "Your father didn't kill himself, he was murdered. By my father. And your mother. By the Elders. I heard them talking about it, Lach. All because he found out—"

"Stop right there. Just stop," he said, his voice cold.

"I'm sorry, Lach. I know this isn't easy to hear, but you have to believe me. I would never lie to you about this. You have to know that."

"I know what the truth is."

Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him. Calm, he was far too calm. The ripple was still there, but she could see he was determined to control it, determined to maintain his unruffled appearance.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Shaking his head, he let loose a long-suffering sigh. "I know how much you want to believe your version of the story, how you long to cast House Staerleigh as the villain. You've always questioned the House, have always had trouble accepting your place within it. I was sympathetic to you, I truly was. I thought if I could only help you, I could make you see the role you had to play. I could make you understand that your loyalty and devotion would pay off in the end.

"But that was weakness on my part. You've always been my weakness, you know that? Sweet, lovely, wonderful Cianne. How I adored you. When we were children, you were like the sun to me. I couldn't live without your light. As we got older, as you grew up, as I started to experience this strange sensation of yearning, I realized you had pulled me in so deep I had no hope of ever getting out again.