“We buried her in the woods beneath her favorite willow, and marked her grave with a simple stone.”
Arianna held tight to Braith’s hands, she sought to soothe him by stroking her thumbs slowly over his hands. He was sorry that Melinda had suffered through such a loss; sorry she’d had to witness it. He hated the fact that his mother had been killed in such a way, that she had known only terror at the end. But there was something that Melinda said that had ensnared his attention.
“You didn’t come back to the palace until you were in your twenties.”
Melinda frowned at him. “I know.”
“Then you weren’t a young teen when she died.”
“I was fourteen when she was killed Braith.”
A strange tension was growing inside of him. He had never asked Melinda her story, had never thought much about it. Their mother, a woman he had barely seen in the eight hundred years before her death, hadn’t meant much to him. But, she had still been his mother, and Melinda was still his sister. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now.
“Where were you all those years Melinda?” he grated out. Arianna shifted nervously, she sensed his rising anger, his escalating tension and ire.
Melinda swallowed nervously, Ashby’s hand tightened on hers as he patted it reassuringly. “It’s ok Melinda, tell him.”
“Tell me what?” When she continued to stay silent, he rose slowly to his feet. “Tell me what?” he hissed.
“Braith, give her time,” Arianna urged.
“Were you with the rebels? Did they capture you after you buried her?” he demanded.
“The rebels?” Melinda inquired her confusion evident.
“The rebels that killed her,” he snarled impatiently.
Melinda bit on her lip, Arianna rose slowly to her feet beside him. He could hear the fierce beat of her heart; she was already looking at him in wide eyed, knowing horror. Her hand began to tremble within his. “I never said that she was killed by rebels Braith,” Melinda whispered.
Something stirred at the far edges of his mind; something dark and sinister began to make its way through him. Braith straightened his shoulders, taking strength in Arianna’s presence at his side. “Then who?” he demanded.
Melinda’s lip was trembling; Ashby had risen to his feet. Ashby stepped forward, placing his body in front of Melinda’s, but Braith had no intention of going after his sister. It was the last thing in the world that he was going to do. “They were father’s men Braith. It was father’s guards that came into that house. It was father that had her killed. I didn’t return to the palace until I was accidentally discovered ten years later. I never wanted to return, I hated the man, and I was certain he would kill me too.”
Braith was frozen, he couldn’t move through the shock that gripped him. “Where were you all that time?” Arianna asked softly.
“Hiding with our servants. It was dumb luck that I was caught, that I was forced back to that hellhole. They had presumed me dead, though the guards had been honest with father and told them that they had not seen me. They assumed that I had either died before the raid, or that I had been somewhere else and died later; they felt it unlikely that I was able to survive, and stay hidden, on my own. I was in a village that had been deemed a possible traitorous threat when it was raided, my servants, my family was killed. If Jericho hadn’t been with them I probably would have been killed also, but even after all our years apart, he recognized me.”
“Blood knows blood,” Braith said softly. Arianna shuddered.
“He’s the reason I’m still alive.”
“Does he know what happened to our mother?”
Melinda swallowed heavily, Ashby was becoming edgier. “I hid it from him at first, but when he wanted to bring me back to the palace I refused to go. I was afraid of father, of what he would do to me. I became hysterical when he insisted that I was to return, when he tried to force me back I spilled the story in my panic. I told him why I could not return. He is the only other one that knows.
“He told me to tell father that I had seen nothing the day our mother was killed; that the servants had taken me out shopping that day, and only found mother’s body that night. I was to tell them that I hadn’t returned to the palace because I was uncertain of how to get there, and fearful of wandering too far from the only home I’d ever known. He told me to keep quiet no matter what, but that he had to take me back. The other guards had seen me; there was no way that he could let me go without looking suspicious. Father would continue to hunt me until I was uncovered again, and he would probably kill me when he did find me. But if I went back on my own I would be able to keep my knowledge of events quiet. No matter how angry and resentful I was I had no choice but to return. All I could do was hope to escape one day.”
“Jack knew about this,” Braith grated. “The whole time.”
“Jack?” Ashby asked in surprise.
“Jericho,” Arianna answered when Braith remained silent. He was furious. Furious that his father had done this, furious that his siblings had kept him in the dark for so long, furious that he had stood by his father’s side, and been a pawn in all of their lies and treacheries for so long. He understood their reasons why they hadn’t told him, but he wanted to throttle them all for their duplicity. It would not continue any longer. He may not be his father’s heir anymore, but he was still a prince, he was still the next in line. He would rule. He would set right all of the wrongs that he had so blindly followed. “When Jericho came to live with us in the forest, he changed his name to Jack. It’s what we know him as.”
“It’s who he is,” Braith grated. Arianna glanced up at him in surprise, her eyes wide, her mouth parted slightly. Her hands were firm in his grasp, warm, and oh so very fragile. “It’s who he’s been since he encountered Melinda. It was only six years ago that he was able to break free and officially become Jack, officially allow that other side of him to come out. He left that palace with no intention of ever coming back again.”
The betrayal was knifing, and far deeper than he had ever expected it to be. When Jack had taken Arianna, Braith had known that Jack had changed, that he was not the brother he had known, but Jack had not been that brother for far longer than Braith had ever suspected. Arianna leaned against him; she released his hand to wrap her arm around his waist, holding him closer to her. Her forehead rested against his chest, he could feel her aching hurt and knew that it was for him. He wanted to be resentful of her sympathy, but he couldn’t be, not when she was so wonderfully good at easing his hurt.