Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth - Chapter 23 - Escape
Title: Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth
Pairing: Darken/Kahlan with past references to Darken/Cara and Richard/Kahlan
Length: 3900~
Rating: T
Spoilers: Set in the "Reckoning" AU with facts learned in "Eternity".
Warning: Possible triggers for disturbing thoughts
Escape
“Mistress! Has anyone harmed you?”
The man who used to be Jonathon Egremont rushed to Rachel’s side as she stumbled out into the hallway. “I can’t bear to see you cry,” he groaned, taking her in his arms.
She encompassed his entire world.
Jonathon’s loyalty to his king, his duty, his honor, his betrothed, his family, all of his ambitions and hopes were nothing compared to this wondrous creature. Those belonged to a different life.
A life that was no longer important.
A life he could barely remember.
Gazing at the man she could have loved, Rachel was consumed by pity, guilt - and disgust - for both of them.
Dashing the tears from her eyes, she regained her composure. “I’m fine, Captain.” She managed a wan smile. “There’s nothing more you can do. Everybody has already paid too high a price.”
“You most of all,” Rachel added sadly.
Jonathon, like Margaret, had never sought to use her for his own purposes. He had been her friend, a bastion of affection and strength. In return, she had deprived him of his free will.
There was nothing she could do now to undo the damage she had wrought. Confession was for life.
“Please take me to my rooms, Captain,” she instructed, gently taking his arm. Together they strode past the guards who had challenged her earlier, and weaved through the gaggle of courtiers and servants scurrying about the palace.
At their approach, the young officer guarding Rachel’s apartments clasped his fist to his chest in salute. He blinked in surprise when told he was dismissed. “But Captain, just a few minutes ago you ordered me to remain here,” he stammered.
“Never mind what I said earlier!” Egremont snapped, “I’ll take over the rest of your watch.” Once they were alone, Jonathon turned back to her, eyes shining with devotion.
“What is your command, Mistress?”
“Stay by the door, Captain. I want to be left alone. Don’t let anyone pass. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“What if Lord Rahl wishes to see you? What if Mags comes back? Am I to forbid them entry?” Egremont queried.
Rachel’s heart sank at his unthinking willingness to defy his king at the whim of a seventeen-year old girl. “I’ll be leaving before my father returns, and Mags should be gone for at least another hour.”
“Leaving? Where are we going, Mistress?”
“We’ll talk about it soon,” she assured him. “I’ll only be a little while.”
Upon entering her chambers, Rachel knees gave out from under her. Collapsing onto the sofa, she broke into gasping sobs, holding her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound.
What was she going to do?
She and Jonathon were enmeshed in a trap of her own making.
+++++
The bay stallion fought against the bit as Darken pulled back on the reins, allowing the others a chance to catch up. Although the legates from Rothenburg and Tamarang had been his guests for several days, up until this morning he had managed to avoid their company apart from the obligatory formalities. But the exhilaration of the hunt more than compensated for the tediousness of their company.
Darken had little skill with a bow, but was an excellent horseman and craved the thrill of pursuit, the challenge of cornering his prey. After that, the kill held little interest.
It had been a successful day - ten stags slain, including a rare twenty point buck that had charged them when flushed into the open. Mistress Theta, with lethal accuracy, had taken the white stag down with two arrows. Darken admired the animal’s bravery when surrounded, but the magnificent creature had never stood a chance against his Mord’Sith.
Theta’s blood was up and Darken knew from experience that he could look forward to a memorable night.
His blood raced with anticipation.
But his bones ached with exhaustion.
The years were starting to take their toll. Once he would have returned from a hunting expedition more invigorated than before he set out. Darken hated to admit how much he longed for a steaming bath and the luxury of lying down in a warm bed - alone.
At least he was not the only one ready to return to the comforts of the palace. The ambassadors could barely move. The horses were lathered and the hounds panted with exertion, tongues lolling out of their mouths.
Gesturing at his men-at-arms and his Mord-Sith - Theta, Alix and the newest one, from last night, he couldn’t remember her name - Darken signaled that it was time to gather up their weapons and their trophies and start back.
Theta swung herself into the saddle, pouting in disappointment. “My Lord, the forest here is teeming with deer, there’s so much more to -
“Are you questioning my orders, Mistress Theta?” Darken asked, hoping the menace in his tone concealed the weariness.
“No, my Lord, “ she replied coolly. “If I had realized how tired you were I would have suggested we turn back several hours ago.” Theta regarded him with feigned concern.
Darken bristled at the insult.
“Go to the rear and help your sisters with trussing the game. I’m sure your assistance would be appreciated,” he snapped, knowing the very opposite was true.
Trying to hide her annoyance at being assigned the demeaning task, the Mord’Sith glanced over at the other two women. “They’ve already finished,” she said. “Surely my skills can be put to better use protecting you, my Lord.”
“Was your duty to protect me ever in doubt, Theta? Don’t presume to instruct me on how best to use your particular…skills.” There could be no mistaking the threat in his voice now.
How dare she question his authority, even implicitly?
Why was she always so lacking in subtlety or perception?
Why was she so - empty?
Why couldn’t she be the woman he really wanted?
The woman he had lost.
It was not only intelligence, bravery and ruthlessness that had gained Cara a place at Darken’s side. She had possessed the ability to discern his frame of mind at a glance, often deflecting his anger with a wry observation that would lighten his mood without questioning his supremacy. In return, Darken had come to learn that Cara never challenged him without good reason, and that when she did so, it was wise to heed her words.
He had never found a woman who was her equal. He never would.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Darken decided that the discussion with Theta was not worth pursuing.
Perhaps another sign of advancing age.
He forced a tight smile and permitted Theta to resume her place.
It was hardly her fault that she was only a shadow of the fire and beauty he had once possessed.
They rode on in silence, the soft snuffling of the horses and creaking of leather harness blending with rustling leaves and birdsong. The sun was starting to sink below the treetops.
The hunters had ranged farther than Darken had intended, and it would be at least another hour before they arrived home. He began to feel a vague sense of unease. If their mounts hadn’t have been so winded, he would have insisted on a faster pace.
During the day, Darken had pushed the events of the previous evening to the back of his mind. But as they drew nearer to the palace, their implications could no longer be avoided - the conversation with Egremont, the hope that Darken could finally give Rachel what she desired crushed almost as soon as it had arisen, the cowardice that had kept him from approaching her afterward.
Rachel had been frantic with worry and distress over the past week. She had repeatedly begged an audience with him. Yet Darken had ridden off this morning leaving her alone to brood. He could at least have assured her of his change of heart before he left.
Darken’s earlier unease had blossomed into a cold heavy pressure against his ribs.
It was a feeling only his daughter could inspire in him, from the moment when he had first denied her some childish wish of little importance to him, but meaning the world to her.
Guilt had been an emotion alien to Darken before Rachel’s birth. Even the flashes of remorse that occasionally stabbed him over the murder of his son hadn’t begun to surface until he had experienced the daily realities of fatherhood. Until then, the boy had been an abstraction to him.
Darken hated it - this leaden weight. Yet it was part and parcel of what he had always wanted so desperately.
For so many years love had been an unknown territory. His mother might have loved him in the distant past, he couldn’t remember. He had certainly never received it from anyone else, nor had he ever felt it. He had once thought that the possibility of love might exist with Kahlan, but that hope had been short -lived.
Then Rachel had been born and everything had changed. As it became apparent that the tangled longing Darken had for Kahlan would always be spurned, his every tender, possessive impulse centered on his child, and she had loved him in return.
But it had been so much simpler when she was a little girl. Then her demands were few and easily satisfied, and his were only that she be happy with what he could provide.
What terrified Darken now was his ignorance of how to navigate the emotional maze in which he and Rachel found themselves. He determined that he would see her tonight and try to repair the rift he had caused in their relationship.
Perhaps he had sheltered her too much by depriving her of the chance to use her abilities to their capacity. Forcing her to perform the one act she most detested without encouraging her to develop her other skills had been a mistake.
There was no reason, at the age of seventeen, that Rachel could not be given more responsibility. She needed to learn more than what to do when Richard arrived. It was important that Darken start showing her the intricacies of governing. Marriage, while necessary, could be put off for a time.
Rachel could perhaps even be given a seat on his council, and she certainly could begin to help him in mediating disputes between his contentious nobles. Her ancestors had been the arbiters of justice in the Midlands. Surely Kahlan had taught her those skills.
Darken’s mood lifted as he pondered everything he planned to say to Rachel that evening. He was so absorbed in his plans that it was several minutes before Mistress Theta’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“My Lord, “ she ventured, more subdued than usual, “there is a matter of great importance I need to discuss with you after our return. I ask leave to meet with you in private.”
Annoyed at the interruption, he replied, “I’m very tired, Theta. After I’ve had a chance to bathe, I intend to sup with my daughter tonight. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
His answer didn’t please her. In fact, Darken could see that underneath her Mord’Sith mask of stoicism, Theta was alarmed.
How interesting. What possible difference could one day make? If the matter was that important Theta could have told him last night, or earlier in the day. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been alone with him recently.
“My Lord, I’m afraid this can’t wait until tomorrow. It must be brought to your attention as soon as possible.”
“Then tell me now,” he said wearily. “Nobody is listening.”
Theta looked down for a moment as if weighing her options, then edged her horse nearer. Gazing up at him with the hint of a smile, she had just opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by Mistress Alix, who looked distracted, worried and disgusted all at once.
“My Lord, Ambassador Pullo has fallen off his horse. It appears he may have broken his leg,” she groused, rolling her eyes. Off and on during the day, most of them had seen the legate swigging from a flask he kept hidden in his jacket.
“Then tether his mount to the back of the wagon, and put him in with the other dead weight,” Darken barked. “If he’s that drunk, he won’t know the difference. I don’t want to waste more time. Theta - go to the rear and help the others”
Alix nodded before riding back to take care of the matter. By then, many of the rest of the group, tired and irritated at being delayed, had gathered closely around them.
Darken observed Theta’s irritated frown with some amusement before he urged his steed on, leaving her behind to deal with the problem.
He just wanted to get home.
++++
Rachel didn’t know how long she sat staring at nothing, but at some point she became aware of the sharp angle of the afternoon sunlight piercing through her sitting room.
She had made her decision and was strangely relieved, eerily calm.
Her father would be home soon, and then he would know everything. She must act quickly.
Rachel walked over to her writing desk. Taking a sheet of parchment out of the drawer, she picked up a quill and began to write.
Father -
Jonathon’s not to blame for anything. He tried to stop me, he told me that I had to talk to you first, but I gave him no choice. Please don’t take out your anger on him because he’s loyal and brave and will be himself again. You will need him to help you.
Don’t blame Mags. She was gone all day and didn’t know anything.
Don’t blame Mother or Alice. They didn’t want me there.
Everything was my fault.
Everything.
I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.
I know I’ve been a disappointment to you.
I hope Theta’s son will make you happier that I could.
Please don’t hate me.
Your daughter - Rachel
After folding the note carefully and scribbling her father’s name on the outside, Rachel reached into the desk and lifted her grandmother’s wooden jewelry chest onto her lap. Tracing the intricate designs pensively with her fingers for a moment, Rachel wondered what the unknown woman’s life had been like. She noted with sorrow that she was leaving her father just as his mother had left him.
Deliberately she reached back and unclasped the chain with her grandmother’s pendant from around her neck. Holding the warm stone in her hand, she placed the note inside the box, then laid the pendant on top of the parchment.
It was time.
Rachel - you have to tell him.
No matter what happens, Richard is still coming.
The dream.
Your father has to know about the dream.
Only you can tell him the right thing to do.
What he has to do.
It was Dream-Rachel.
Speaking in a voice softer than a whisper, yet powerful, strong, sure, she called to her weaker self.
How can I tell him what I don’t even know myself?
You do know.
I’ll help you.
Listen to me.
Rachel hastily pulled out another sheet of parchment, writing at the top of the page - About Richard.
Then, listening to her inner voice, she began to write.
++++
I’m ready now, Captain,” Rachel said, opening the door to the hallway. She had thrown a heavy riding cloak over her dress, and was holding her grandmother’s chest, wrapped in a shawl, protectively against her chest.
“I’m riding out to the woods,” she directed in a firm voice. “Please help me to my horse and make sure nobody follows me after I leave.”
Jonathon was torn between obedience and love for her. The second made him concerned. “It’s not safe, the hunters are still abroad, and it will be dark soon.”
As he finished speaking, the clatter of hooves sounded from the stable yard. Rachel’s father had returned.
Rachel pulled Egremont into the room and over to the window with her, careful to keep out of sight of anyone who might be looking up from below. The blood was pounding in her ears.
She watched as her father swung himself down from his stallion. He looked tired, but relaxed and happy.
The only women in the party, Mistress Theta, Mistress Alix, and another, younger Mord’Sith were already seeing to the horses while keeping a careful eye on their master.
As her father tossed the reins of his steed to Mistress Alix, Rachel watched as he turned to Theta, tracing the back of his hand lightly down the side of her face. The blonde returned his smile. A silent understanding seemed to pass between them.
Something else flashed in Theta’s eyes.
Triumph.
Knowledge.
And fear - she’s afraid, Rachel.
Listen to me!
Her inner voice spoke again, trying to reach her. But Rachel didn’t want to listen.
Her father was happy about his new child. Theta had told her so.
She lied! Dream - Rachel insisted.
His son.
She doesn’t know that. It could be a girl.
Theta carries your own brother or sister - how can you leave?
A hard knot of pain tightened in Rachel’s throat.
It didn’t matter.
This was no longer her home.
She had no home.
The other men in her father’s party laughed and joked with each other as they turned their mounts over to the grooms. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, everybody had gone inside. Her father, his Mord’Sith and the hunters to the palace; the grooms taking the horses to the stables.
Rachel must leave now or it would be too late. Her father would learn about what she had done. He would learn that Jonathon had helped her and why.
It was just a question of how much time she had before he found out.
Her father would never forgive her for this double betrayal. He would probably kill Jonathon for helping her and hate Rachel for forcing his hand.
Stay and face your father.
Explain the truth to him yourself.
Father was going to have a son.
Finally, someone strong who could rule after him.
He needs you Rachel.
No, he doesn’t.
Her inner voice fell silent.
The ground that had been shifting under Rachel’s feet over the last six months was now starting to disappear. Soon there would be nothing left to stand on.
She had to get away.
But there was no way to get to her horse without being seen.
Turning away from the glass, she glanced over at the man beside her.
“Help me.” she no longer knew if it was a demand or a plea, but to him it would make no difference. “You have to help me get away from here. Just for a little while. I need some time to think.”
Without a word, Jonathon took her hand and led her to a back staircase leading into the servant’s kitchen. Without hesitation she followed him across the room as he walked right into the back of the huge open hearth. The solid stone gave way as he pushed against it, and swung open into a narrow dark tunnel.
Egremont explained quietly, “This passage was built centuries ago. It leads into the stables.” He smiled at her serenely, his eyes worshipful. “We’ll wait here for a time, and then it will be safe for us to get to our horses. Everything is going to be fine. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Rachel had no intention of taking him with her, but it was pointless to discuss that now. She settled down on the filthy floor to wait. An eternity seemed to go by in silence. Lost in her own thoughts, Rachel had almost forgotten her friend until he took her arm again.
“It’s time now. They’re gone. The grooms will be at their food and we can get away without anyone noticing.”
When they emerged into the stables a few minutes later they were greeted by the smell of hay and manure, and the soft sounds of the horses mouthing their oats. Setting her precious burden on the floor, Rache ran over to Shadow with a sob of relief, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I’ll get the horses ready.” Egremont began to gather up the equipment.
Pulling herself away from her horse, Rachel spoke firmly, “Captain, I’m sorry, but you can’t go with me. I have to go on alone.”
He stared at her without comprehension, “Mistress, it’s too late in the afternoon. Have you ever been out to the Doilgheas Wood alone, even during the day? You need my protection.”
“I know what I’m doing, Captain. Please, just get help me get Shadow ready,” Rachel spoke briskly.
Jonathan’s distress was palpable. “Mistress, you said you needed time to think. You are coming back, aren’t you? It’s madness to think about doing anything else.” He hesitated, as if uncertain whether to say more. “Your father won’t stay angry with you for long. He loves you.”
She refused to meet the man’s eyes, her restless fingers brushing wisps of hay out of Shadow’s mane, “Yes, of course, I’m coming back. I know what I’m doing.”
What was there to come back for?
Father would never forgive her. Mother - as far as her mother was concerned, Rachel had never been born.
Rachel finished tightening the girth of the saddle. Jonathan watched silently as she tugged at her cloak, looking at her with such tenderness that it was all she could do to keep herself from throwing her arms around him.
Instead, she picked up the chest from the floor and walked over to the young man. Her eyes burning into his, she placed it in his hands.
“Listen to me, Jonathon. Tomorrow morning I want you to give this to my father. You will hate me by then, but do it anyway. Father will be furious, but you have to make him read the letters that are inside the chest. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, looking distraught. “Mistress, how could you think I would ever hate you?”
“Jonathon, you’re confessed now. In a few hours you’ll feel differently. But promise me this - swear to me on you oath as an officer of D”Hara - that as long as you live, you will serve my father loyally. I can’t explain everything, but he’s going to need your help. Tell him that I told you that he will need your help.”
“I understand, Mistress,” Jonathan said, his forehead creased with worry, not for himself, but for her.
“Good,” Rachel said softly, and kissed him on the cheek. “I did you a great wrong, Jonathon. Please try to forgive me.”
Shaking away any further hesitation, Rachel pulled herself up into the saddle, arranging the cloak around her slight form. As she readied to leave, Rachel gazed down at the man who could very well die because of her. “Go back to your quarters. My father will not expect me for dinner.”
Recalling the look that had passed between her father and Mistress Theta, she added, “I’m sure he will be occupied most of the night.”
Without another word, Rachel urged Shadow into a trot as she rode toward the distant woods, her figure shimmering through the lengthening shadows cast by the afternoon sun. She had never before ventured more than a few hundred yards from the palace without the company of either her father or an armed escort.
No one would expect her to do so now.
She was such a docile, obedient, fearful girl.
You’re a fool, Rachel, and a coward.
Even now, her inner voice fought to be heard, but Rachel had stopped listening.
A/N - Doilgheas is Scottish-Gaelic word for grief, sorrow, affliction
Pairing: Darken/Kahlan with past references to Darken/Cara and Richard/Kahlan
Length: 3900~
Rating: T
Spoilers: Set in the "Reckoning" AU with facts learned in "Eternity".
Warning: Possible triggers for disturbing thoughts
Escape
“Mistress! Has anyone harmed you?”
The man who used to be Jonathon Egremont rushed to Rachel’s side as she stumbled out into the hallway. “I can’t bear to see you cry,” he groaned, taking her in his arms.
She encompassed his entire world.
Jonathon’s loyalty to his king, his duty, his honor, his betrothed, his family, all of his ambitions and hopes were nothing compared to this wondrous creature. Those belonged to a different life.
A life that was no longer important.
A life he could barely remember.
Gazing at the man she could have loved, Rachel was consumed by pity, guilt - and disgust - for both of them.
Dashing the tears from her eyes, she regained her composure. “I’m fine, Captain.” She managed a wan smile. “There’s nothing more you can do. Everybody has already paid too high a price.”
“You most of all,” Rachel added sadly.
Jonathon, like Margaret, had never sought to use her for his own purposes. He had been her friend, a bastion of affection and strength. In return, she had deprived him of his free will.
There was nothing she could do now to undo the damage she had wrought. Confession was for life.
“Please take me to my rooms, Captain,” she instructed, gently taking his arm. Together they strode past the guards who had challenged her earlier, and weaved through the gaggle of courtiers and servants scurrying about the palace.
At their approach, the young officer guarding Rachel’s apartments clasped his fist to his chest in salute. He blinked in surprise when told he was dismissed. “But Captain, just a few minutes ago you ordered me to remain here,” he stammered.
“Never mind what I said earlier!” Egremont snapped, “I’ll take over the rest of your watch.” Once they were alone, Jonathon turned back to her, eyes shining with devotion.
“What is your command, Mistress?”
“Stay by the door, Captain. I want to be left alone. Don’t let anyone pass. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“What if Lord Rahl wishes to see you? What if Mags comes back? Am I to forbid them entry?” Egremont queried.
Rachel’s heart sank at his unthinking willingness to defy his king at the whim of a seventeen-year old girl. “I’ll be leaving before my father returns, and Mags should be gone for at least another hour.”
“Leaving? Where are we going, Mistress?”
“We’ll talk about it soon,” she assured him. “I’ll only be a little while.”
Upon entering her chambers, Rachel knees gave out from under her. Collapsing onto the sofa, she broke into gasping sobs, holding her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound.
What was she going to do?
She and Jonathon were enmeshed in a trap of her own making.
+++++
The bay stallion fought against the bit as Darken pulled back on the reins, allowing the others a chance to catch up. Although the legates from Rothenburg and Tamarang had been his guests for several days, up until this morning he had managed to avoid their company apart from the obligatory formalities. But the exhilaration of the hunt more than compensated for the tediousness of their company.
Darken had little skill with a bow, but was an excellent horseman and craved the thrill of pursuit, the challenge of cornering his prey. After that, the kill held little interest.
It had been a successful day - ten stags slain, including a rare twenty point buck that had charged them when flushed into the open. Mistress Theta, with lethal accuracy, had taken the white stag down with two arrows. Darken admired the animal’s bravery when surrounded, but the magnificent creature had never stood a chance against his Mord’Sith.
Theta’s blood was up and Darken knew from experience that he could look forward to a memorable night.
His blood raced with anticipation.
But his bones ached with exhaustion.
The years were starting to take their toll. Once he would have returned from a hunting expedition more invigorated than before he set out. Darken hated to admit how much he longed for a steaming bath and the luxury of lying down in a warm bed - alone.
At least he was not the only one ready to return to the comforts of the palace. The ambassadors could barely move. The horses were lathered and the hounds panted with exertion, tongues lolling out of their mouths.
Gesturing at his men-at-arms and his Mord-Sith - Theta, Alix and the newest one, from last night, he couldn’t remember her name - Darken signaled that it was time to gather up their weapons and their trophies and start back.
Theta swung herself into the saddle, pouting in disappointment. “My Lord, the forest here is teeming with deer, there’s so much more to -
“Are you questioning my orders, Mistress Theta?” Darken asked, hoping the menace in his tone concealed the weariness.
“No, my Lord, “ she replied coolly. “If I had realized how tired you were I would have suggested we turn back several hours ago.” Theta regarded him with feigned concern.
Darken bristled at the insult.
“Go to the rear and help your sisters with trussing the game. I’m sure your assistance would be appreciated,” he snapped, knowing the very opposite was true.
Trying to hide her annoyance at being assigned the demeaning task, the Mord’Sith glanced over at the other two women. “They’ve already finished,” she said. “Surely my skills can be put to better use protecting you, my Lord.”
“Was your duty to protect me ever in doubt, Theta? Don’t presume to instruct me on how best to use your particular…skills.” There could be no mistaking the threat in his voice now.
How dare she question his authority, even implicitly?
Why was she always so lacking in subtlety or perception?
Why was she so - empty?
Why couldn’t she be the woman he really wanted?
The woman he had lost.
It was not only intelligence, bravery and ruthlessness that had gained Cara a place at Darken’s side. She had possessed the ability to discern his frame of mind at a glance, often deflecting his anger with a wry observation that would lighten his mood without questioning his supremacy. In return, Darken had come to learn that Cara never challenged him without good reason, and that when she did so, it was wise to heed her words.
He had never found a woman who was her equal. He never would.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Darken decided that the discussion with Theta was not worth pursuing.
Perhaps another sign of advancing age.
He forced a tight smile and permitted Theta to resume her place.
It was hardly her fault that she was only a shadow of the fire and beauty he had once possessed.
They rode on in silence, the soft snuffling of the horses and creaking of leather harness blending with rustling leaves and birdsong. The sun was starting to sink below the treetops.
The hunters had ranged farther than Darken had intended, and it would be at least another hour before they arrived home. He began to feel a vague sense of unease. If their mounts hadn’t have been so winded, he would have insisted on a faster pace.
During the day, Darken had pushed the events of the previous evening to the back of his mind. But as they drew nearer to the palace, their implications could no longer be avoided - the conversation with Egremont, the hope that Darken could finally give Rachel what she desired crushed almost as soon as it had arisen, the cowardice that had kept him from approaching her afterward.
Rachel had been frantic with worry and distress over the past week. She had repeatedly begged an audience with him. Yet Darken had ridden off this morning leaving her alone to brood. He could at least have assured her of his change of heart before he left.
Darken’s earlier unease had blossomed into a cold heavy pressure against his ribs.
It was a feeling only his daughter could inspire in him, from the moment when he had first denied her some childish wish of little importance to him, but meaning the world to her.
Guilt had been an emotion alien to Darken before Rachel’s birth. Even the flashes of remorse that occasionally stabbed him over the murder of his son hadn’t begun to surface until he had experienced the daily realities of fatherhood. Until then, the boy had been an abstraction to him.
Darken hated it - this leaden weight. Yet it was part and parcel of what he had always wanted so desperately.
For so many years love had been an unknown territory. His mother might have loved him in the distant past, he couldn’t remember. He had certainly never received it from anyone else, nor had he ever felt it. He had once thought that the possibility of love might exist with Kahlan, but that hope had been short -lived.
Then Rachel had been born and everything had changed. As it became apparent that the tangled longing Darken had for Kahlan would always be spurned, his every tender, possessive impulse centered on his child, and she had loved him in return.
But it had been so much simpler when she was a little girl. Then her demands were few and easily satisfied, and his were only that she be happy with what he could provide.
What terrified Darken now was his ignorance of how to navigate the emotional maze in which he and Rachel found themselves. He determined that he would see her tonight and try to repair the rift he had caused in their relationship.
Perhaps he had sheltered her too much by depriving her of the chance to use her abilities to their capacity. Forcing her to perform the one act she most detested without encouraging her to develop her other skills had been a mistake.
There was no reason, at the age of seventeen, that Rachel could not be given more responsibility. She needed to learn more than what to do when Richard arrived. It was important that Darken start showing her the intricacies of governing. Marriage, while necessary, could be put off for a time.
Rachel could perhaps even be given a seat on his council, and she certainly could begin to help him in mediating disputes between his contentious nobles. Her ancestors had been the arbiters of justice in the Midlands. Surely Kahlan had taught her those skills.
Darken’s mood lifted as he pondered everything he planned to say to Rachel that evening. He was so absorbed in his plans that it was several minutes before Mistress Theta’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“My Lord, “ she ventured, more subdued than usual, “there is a matter of great importance I need to discuss with you after our return. I ask leave to meet with you in private.”
Annoyed at the interruption, he replied, “I’m very tired, Theta. After I’ve had a chance to bathe, I intend to sup with my daughter tonight. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
His answer didn’t please her. In fact, Darken could see that underneath her Mord’Sith mask of stoicism, Theta was alarmed.
How interesting. What possible difference could one day make? If the matter was that important Theta could have told him last night, or earlier in the day. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been alone with him recently.
“My Lord, I’m afraid this can’t wait until tomorrow. It must be brought to your attention as soon as possible.”
“Then tell me now,” he said wearily. “Nobody is listening.”
Theta looked down for a moment as if weighing her options, then edged her horse nearer. Gazing up at him with the hint of a smile, she had just opened her mouth to speak when they were interrupted by Mistress Alix, who looked distracted, worried and disgusted all at once.
“My Lord, Ambassador Pullo has fallen off his horse. It appears he may have broken his leg,” she groused, rolling her eyes. Off and on during the day, most of them had seen the legate swigging from a flask he kept hidden in his jacket.
“Then tether his mount to the back of the wagon, and put him in with the other dead weight,” Darken barked. “If he’s that drunk, he won’t know the difference. I don’t want to waste more time. Theta - go to the rear and help the others”
Alix nodded before riding back to take care of the matter. By then, many of the rest of the group, tired and irritated at being delayed, had gathered closely around them.
Darken observed Theta’s irritated frown with some amusement before he urged his steed on, leaving her behind to deal with the problem.
He just wanted to get home.
++++
Rachel didn’t know how long she sat staring at nothing, but at some point she became aware of the sharp angle of the afternoon sunlight piercing through her sitting room.
She had made her decision and was strangely relieved, eerily calm.
Her father would be home soon, and then he would know everything. She must act quickly.
Rachel walked over to her writing desk. Taking a sheet of parchment out of the drawer, she picked up a quill and began to write.
Father -
Jonathon’s not to blame for anything. He tried to stop me, he told me that I had to talk to you first, but I gave him no choice. Please don’t take out your anger on him because he’s loyal and brave and will be himself again. You will need him to help you.
Don’t blame Mags. She was gone all day and didn’t know anything.
Don’t blame Mother or Alice. They didn’t want me there.
Everything was my fault.
Everything.
I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger.
I know I’ve been a disappointment to you.
I hope Theta’s son will make you happier that I could.
Please don’t hate me.
Your daughter - Rachel
After folding the note carefully and scribbling her father’s name on the outside, Rachel reached into the desk and lifted her grandmother’s wooden jewelry chest onto her lap. Tracing the intricate designs pensively with her fingers for a moment, Rachel wondered what the unknown woman’s life had been like. She noted with sorrow that she was leaving her father just as his mother had left him.
Deliberately she reached back and unclasped the chain with her grandmother’s pendant from around her neck. Holding the warm stone in her hand, she placed the note inside the box, then laid the pendant on top of the parchment.
It was time.
Rachel - you have to tell him.
No matter what happens, Richard is still coming.
The dream.
Your father has to know about the dream.
Only you can tell him the right thing to do.
What he has to do.
It was Dream-Rachel.
Speaking in a voice softer than a whisper, yet powerful, strong, sure, she called to her weaker self.
How can I tell him what I don’t even know myself?
You do know.
I’ll help you.
Listen to me.
Rachel hastily pulled out another sheet of parchment, writing at the top of the page - About Richard.
Then, listening to her inner voice, she began to write.
++++
I’m ready now, Captain,” Rachel said, opening the door to the hallway. She had thrown a heavy riding cloak over her dress, and was holding her grandmother’s chest, wrapped in a shawl, protectively against her chest.
“I’m riding out to the woods,” she directed in a firm voice. “Please help me to my horse and make sure nobody follows me after I leave.”
Jonathon was torn between obedience and love for her. The second made him concerned. “It’s not safe, the hunters are still abroad, and it will be dark soon.”
As he finished speaking, the clatter of hooves sounded from the stable yard. Rachel’s father had returned.
Rachel pulled Egremont into the room and over to the window with her, careful to keep out of sight of anyone who might be looking up from below. The blood was pounding in her ears.
She watched as her father swung himself down from his stallion. He looked tired, but relaxed and happy.
The only women in the party, Mistress Theta, Mistress Alix, and another, younger Mord’Sith were already seeing to the horses while keeping a careful eye on their master.
As her father tossed the reins of his steed to Mistress Alix, Rachel watched as he turned to Theta, tracing the back of his hand lightly down the side of her face. The blonde returned his smile. A silent understanding seemed to pass between them.
Something else flashed in Theta’s eyes.
Triumph.
Knowledge.
And fear - she’s afraid, Rachel.
Listen to me!
Her inner voice spoke again, trying to reach her. But Rachel didn’t want to listen.
Her father was happy about his new child. Theta had told her so.
She lied! Dream - Rachel insisted.
His son.
She doesn’t know that. It could be a girl.
Theta carries your own brother or sister - how can you leave?
A hard knot of pain tightened in Rachel’s throat.
It didn’t matter.
This was no longer her home.
She had no home.
The other men in her father’s party laughed and joked with each other as they turned their mounts over to the grooms. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, everybody had gone inside. Her father, his Mord’Sith and the hunters to the palace; the grooms taking the horses to the stables.
Rachel must leave now or it would be too late. Her father would learn about what she had done. He would learn that Jonathon had helped her and why.
It was just a question of how much time she had before he found out.
Her father would never forgive her for this double betrayal. He would probably kill Jonathon for helping her and hate Rachel for forcing his hand.
Stay and face your father.
Explain the truth to him yourself.
Father was going to have a son.
Finally, someone strong who could rule after him.
He needs you Rachel.
No, he doesn’t.
Her inner voice fell silent.
The ground that had been shifting under Rachel’s feet over the last six months was now starting to disappear. Soon there would be nothing left to stand on.
She had to get away.
But there was no way to get to her horse without being seen.
Turning away from the glass, she glanced over at the man beside her.
“Help me.” she no longer knew if it was a demand or a plea, but to him it would make no difference. “You have to help me get away from here. Just for a little while. I need some time to think.”
Without a word, Jonathon took her hand and led her to a back staircase leading into the servant’s kitchen. Without hesitation she followed him across the room as he walked right into the back of the huge open hearth. The solid stone gave way as he pushed against it, and swung open into a narrow dark tunnel.
Egremont explained quietly, “This passage was built centuries ago. It leads into the stables.” He smiled at her serenely, his eyes worshipful. “We’ll wait here for a time, and then it will be safe for us to get to our horses. Everything is going to be fine. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Rachel had no intention of taking him with her, but it was pointless to discuss that now. She settled down on the filthy floor to wait. An eternity seemed to go by in silence. Lost in her own thoughts, Rachel had almost forgotten her friend until he took her arm again.
“It’s time now. They’re gone. The grooms will be at their food and we can get away without anyone noticing.”
When they emerged into the stables a few minutes later they were greeted by the smell of hay and manure, and the soft sounds of the horses mouthing their oats. Setting her precious burden on the floor, Rache ran over to Shadow with a sob of relief, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I’ll get the horses ready.” Egremont began to gather up the equipment.
Pulling herself away from her horse, Rachel spoke firmly, “Captain, I’m sorry, but you can’t go with me. I have to go on alone.”
He stared at her without comprehension, “Mistress, it’s too late in the afternoon. Have you ever been out to the Doilgheas Wood alone, even during the day? You need my protection.”
“I know what I’m doing, Captain. Please, just get help me get Shadow ready,” Rachel spoke briskly.
Jonathan’s distress was palpable. “Mistress, you said you needed time to think. You are coming back, aren’t you? It’s madness to think about doing anything else.” He hesitated, as if uncertain whether to say more. “Your father won’t stay angry with you for long. He loves you.”
She refused to meet the man’s eyes, her restless fingers brushing wisps of hay out of Shadow’s mane, “Yes, of course, I’m coming back. I know what I’m doing.”
What was there to come back for?
Father would never forgive her. Mother - as far as her mother was concerned, Rachel had never been born.
Rachel finished tightening the girth of the saddle. Jonathan watched silently as she tugged at her cloak, looking at her with such tenderness that it was all she could do to keep herself from throwing her arms around him.
Instead, she picked up the chest from the floor and walked over to the young man. Her eyes burning into his, she placed it in his hands.
“Listen to me, Jonathon. Tomorrow morning I want you to give this to my father. You will hate me by then, but do it anyway. Father will be furious, but you have to make him read the letters that are inside the chest. Do you understand me?”
He nodded, looking distraught. “Mistress, how could you think I would ever hate you?”
“Jonathon, you’re confessed now. In a few hours you’ll feel differently. But promise me this - swear to me on you oath as an officer of D”Hara - that as long as you live, you will serve my father loyally. I can’t explain everything, but he’s going to need your help. Tell him that I told you that he will need your help.”
“I understand, Mistress,” Jonathan said, his forehead creased with worry, not for himself, but for her.
“Good,” Rachel said softly, and kissed him on the cheek. “I did you a great wrong, Jonathon. Please try to forgive me.”
Shaking away any further hesitation, Rachel pulled herself up into the saddle, arranging the cloak around her slight form. As she readied to leave, Rachel gazed down at the man who could very well die because of her. “Go back to your quarters. My father will not expect me for dinner.”
Recalling the look that had passed between her father and Mistress Theta, she added, “I’m sure he will be occupied most of the night.”
Without another word, Rachel urged Shadow into a trot as she rode toward the distant woods, her figure shimmering through the lengthening shadows cast by the afternoon sun. She had never before ventured more than a few hundred yards from the palace without the company of either her father or an armed escort.
No one would expect her to do so now.
She was such a docile, obedient, fearful girl.
You’re a fool, Rachel, and a coward.
Even now, her inner voice fought to be heard, but Rachel had stopped listening.
A/N - Doilgheas is Scottish-Gaelic word for grief, sorrow, affliction