Mark of Betrayal (81 page)

“
How do you know all that?” I sat beside him, sinking into the mattress.

“
I’ve been doing some reading.”

“
Is there a book about all this?”

“
There are some. But this was in a maid’s diary—at Elysium.”

“
Can you get it for me—when you go there?”

“
Of course. I already planned to bring you all the books, anyway. I just need to take a car with me next time so I can collect all the stuff from my old room, too.”

I looked down at the apple, polishing it with my fingertip; it was small, for an apple—only the size of a plum. “Why is it so tiny?”

“
It was winter. Apples don't grow in the winter.” He took it and studied it. “Legend has it that her father went down to the orchard to scream at the gods, and when he looked up at the oak tree, this was sitting on the branch his daughter had fallen from.”

I smiled. “You’re having me on. That’s a lie.”

He shook his head, closing my fingers around the apple. “This is just what I read. Wanna know something else?”

“
Okay.”

“
After Eve died, Lilith had the orchard torn down—forbid apples to be grown here or eaten here for the rest of eternity. But Christian, believing this apple to be a gift from the gods, couldn’t bear to tear that oak tree down. It now marks the centre of what once was the orchard.”

I looked up at him, my eyes becoming wide. “The field?”

He nodded, smiling.

“
Wow. How come you never told me any of this?”

He shrugged. “We haven’t had a lot of time for small talk, Ara. And I only read this one a few weeks ago. I might even be wrong about whose room this was.”

“
Will you tell me more stories?” I said, using the bedpost to stand myself up as David wandered across the room again, touching everything.

“
Of course.” He stopped by the armchair and picked up the book, his lips turning down with thought.

“
What were they reading?”

“
No title.” He held the cover up.

“
Can I have the book?” I asked. “Like, can I keep it?”

He placed it in my hand. “It belongs to you, I guess—all this stuff does.”

“
No.” I placed the apple and the book on the dresser next to a small wooden jewellery box. “It belongs to Evangeline.”

“
I'm sure she won't care. She's dead.”

“
Even still. It doesn't seem right.” I opened the jewellery box and smiled when I saw the collection of trinkets Eve saved; there was a lock of golden hair, tied with a pink ribbon, which might have been hers—beside that was an oval pendant on a long silver chain and a small bracelet with a flat name plaque. I picked it up and traced the letters, reading them aloud.

“
What did you just say?” David appeared beside me.

“
Morgana.” I held the bracelet up.

He took it and studied it carefully. “I thought she was just a myth.”

“
Who?”

“
Morgana.”

“
Who was she?”

“
No one knows. I’ve read parchments that mentioned a lost child, and found only one that named her, but never any proof that she existed.”

“
Maybe she died as a child, too.”

He shook his head and placed the bracelet against my arm. “Not if this was hers. It would fit a girl who was grown—beyond childhood.”

I looked back at the wooden box. “I wonder what it’s doing in here then.”

“
I don't know.” He picked up the little box, placed the bracelet in it and closed the lid, looking at the base, the sides and the top.

“
What are you doing?”

“
Ah!” he said, spotting something in the mess of fake jewels and other ornaments. He picked up a small crank handle, pressed it into the side of the box, then wound it around and set the box down again, taking a step back. “Open it.”

Frowning, I slowly lifted the lid, and music chimed through the air; a sad, haunting song. But I knew the tune somehow.

As it played, I circled around slowly, hugging myself, taking in the room; purples and blues must have been her favourite colours, and I imagined, from the stars on the roof and the ones I now noticed painted all over the walls, fading with age, that she must have loved the night sky, too. Maybe she was a dreamer, like me; maybe she believed wishes would come true. But she never lived to find out.

The song ended, making the room seem like a very lonely place.

“
How many daughters did Lilith have?” I asked.

“
I'm not sure. I believe there were three—maybe four with Morgana.”

“
Do you think this room has been boarded up since fourteen hundred?” I asked. “Like, did the other children ever live in here?”

David's eyes stayed on me, where they’d clearly been the whole time. “I don't know. Why?”

“
There’s a rocking horse.” I nodded at it. “They weren’t even invented until, well, I can't remember when, but it wasn’t until around the eighteenth century, was it?”

He walked over and pushed the ear of the horse, making it rock. “That’s what people say. But I heard my uncle speak of them—talked of seeing one when he was child. And that was as early as the thirteen hundreds.”

“
Really?”

“
Yes.”

“
So, I guess that doesn't give us any clues about how long this room has been like this, does it?”

“
No. Unfortunately.” He smiled at the horse then, focusing, a world of thoughts going on behind that secret grin.

“
What are you thinking?”

“
It would be nice,” he said, keeping his eyes on the horse.

“
What would?”

“
To have a child of our own.”

I wandered over and stood beside him. “One day.”

“
I don't know, Ara. I…now that I can be here with you, I guess…things are changing.”

“
What are you saying?”

“
I've been thinking.”

“
Mm, you shouldn’t do that. Thinking is bad for your health,” I said as he slid his arms along my sides, holding me close.

“
No, it’s bad for
your
health, mon amour.
I'm
fine,” he joked. “But, I was kinda thinking it might be nice—to maybe at least start
trying
for a baby again.”

I frowned at him for a second, about to ask who he was and what he’d done with my David, but Arthur’s words filtered through me, making me grin, though I kind of wanted to slap him as well; he had to have a baby with me to get the dagger. “And you think I'm suddenly ready for a baby now?”

“
Yeah.” He turned away quickly and picked up a doll off the shelf. “I think you’d make a great mother, Ara. I mean—” He smiled, stroking the doll’s hair. “I think we can do this. You always loved Harry, and you have a heart full of empathy and compassion. That's all it really takes to begin with. The rest we can learn as we go along—” He shrugged and placed the doll down. “Or read books.”

“
I don't know. I'm still not so sure.”

“
Of course you’re not.” He came up and placed his hands on my waist again. “I made you think I had no faith in you, but I do. And I want this—I want to be a family with you.”

Only so you can leave me as a single mother in order to keep me safe for eternity.
“That’s quite a switch from ‘I'm only nineteen’.”

“
A lot has changed since then.” He delicately took my hand.

“
Okay. Fine,” I said, merely because it served my own purpose. “We’ll start trying again.”

“
Great.” He leaned in and kissed my cheek, his dimple showing as he stood back, even in the darkness of this room trapped in the past. “I know we can do this.”

“
That’s if I
can
fall pregnant, David. I can't even calculate ovulation because I haven’t had a period since I first arrived at the manor.”

“
And you took the pregnancy test?”

I nodded. “It’s in my drawer, if you wanna see it.”

He hugged me to him, breathing his concern into the crown of my head. “I hope completing the transformation hasn't made you infertile, like other vampires.”

“
Don't say that—that would be very bad.”

“
I'm sure we’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of my head.

* * *

Everyone clapped as the saltshaker came to rest by a wine glass. I looked to the end of the table, and even David, who I half expected to groan at his brother’s display, was cheering and smiling—happy. I gave a little wave, to which he returned a bow, in a very kingly manner.

“
Show us another,” Margret said, clapping.

Jason looked at his uncle bashfully and took up a spoon. Arthur didn't seem too impressed at this show of power, and I think Jase…Jas
on
knew that. He focused on the spoon, holding it in front of his nose, and slowly lowered his hand, leaving the spoon in the air, floating.

I joined in the applause this time, too impressed to play the humble queen, but when David stopped smiling suddenly to glare at me, I lowered my hands into my lap, my eyes following, and sat quietly while our people talked animatedly about Jason’s next cool trick.

“
Oh, you are a very talented young man,” Margret said.

“
Yes, he is,” David said. “Perhaps my bother’s new role should be Court Jester.”

Everyone laughed. Jason followed with something witty and clever that only amplified that laughter, but I actually didn't even hear it. My mouth felt dry and my dinner was stuck against a huge lump in my throat. And it wasn't because David scolded me for joining in—it was something else. I wasn’t sure why, but it just felt like something was missing—like I’d forgotten something really important, and wherever it was, it made my heart ache.

David's eyes narrowed as he looked past the long line of vampires and saw my obvious sadness. I offered a weak smile and looked back at my lap again. I could feel Jason and Arthur’s eyes on me, too, but I knew if I looked up, Jason's face would be saying “What’s wrong?” and I would think in my mind “Something’s missing.”

What a stupid way to feel.
Something’s missing
. What could be missing? I had everything. My David was sitting at the head of the table, finally, and tonight, we’d go to bed and I’d fall asleep in his arms, and tomorrow, he’d be king. What more could I possibly want?

I looked up at Jason then, and sure enough, it was there; the concern, the obvious worry in his eyes. I could almost read his mind, see him jumping to his feet to hold me in his arms, but it was David who appeared beside me. “My queen. Care for a walk?”

“
Of course, my king,” I said timidly and took his hand. His touch felt cool and familiar, but strangely, not as familiar as it should have been for all the years we’d been in love.

We walked to the garden, and as the loud chatters of our people became distant murmurs, he stopped, turning me in his arms, looking right into my eyes, the moonlight above making his face white, like the dead. “I'm sorry, Ara.”

“
Why?”

“
I was a jerk today, and…I hurt your feelings. I know that.” He gently squeezed the tops of my arms. “I'm just afraid of losing you, I…you’re the one thing in my life that I've never had control over—”

“
But—”

“
No,” he said, with wide eyes, tightening his fingers on my arms. “I don't
want
control, Ara. I don't want to control
or
own you. I love you. But I just don't know how to keep you—how to make sure I never lose you.”

I slowly lifted my hand up between us and pointed to my wedding ring. “That’s what this means. It means I love you no matter what. It means I will be with you through hell and fire, and it means I will keep my promise to be with you, even when I don't want to keep that promise anymore.”

He nodded once, smiling at my ring. “It’s nice to hear
you
say that.”

I held my hand to my chest. “Well, I say it because I mean it, okay.”

He nodded again, sliding his hands down my arms to take my hands. “Can you forgive me?”

“
For what?”

“
For…for treating you that way. I don't want to be that kind of husband—or that kind of man.” He closed his eyes, biting his teeth together. “I promised you I’d changed since we met, and what you saw today was me breaking that promise. I understand you, Ara—I understand that your flirtatious nature is a part of you, and might always be, but I just want to make sure I’ll be the only one you’ll ever love.”

I stepped into him a little more. “Even if death comes for us, you will always be my one true love. Nothing will ever be strong enough to break us apart, David. We’ve been through those fires of hell.” I pointed off to nowhere. “And we always come back. We always will.”

He took my hand delicately and kissed my ring. “I hope so.”

The grand piano my husband learned to play on was old—ancient being a better word. It sat on detailed, heavy-set legs, shining gloriously in a deep mahogany colour, the words Chickering, Boston, in curly letters below the music stand.