Bethany Duncan and Vincent Winterhall
Bethany closed the book after replacing her quill in the inkwell. She let her hand
rest on top of it for a moment, blocking the decorative knot. Finally she
pushed back her chair and stood.
She could hardly believe, after a year, she had returned to the castle of her birth. To the now undeniable news of her father's death. So much had happened in that time. It made the castle seem smaller to her somehow, sad somehow. She kept expecting to turn a corner and see him there, to go down a set of stairs only to have him waiting for her at the bottom.
It wasn't to be, though. She'd been all around the castle since she'd left the main hall, having the need to reacquaint herself with the place.
She had been staring at the door while lost in her thoughts, now she looked back at the book. Her eyes wandered from there up to the window; it was late. She should go and retire. Instead she turned back to the door and this time opened it, heading out into the hall.
Only a few torches were lit. That was usual for it being so late at night. Few people were about, which was also usual for the time, though it made her slightly uncomfortable. She had never done well being alone; not since the night before the battles. She continued downstairs, finally arriving at the castle's chapel.
She paused, staring at the doors. Somehow, it didn't feel right for her to enter there. She'd done many things over the year, and even before, which had made her feel unclean.
Reaching out, she put her hand on the door. Even that felt wrong, and she let it drop again. Well, it was all she deserved, she supposed. She was about to turn away when the doors themselves opened. She stared at them for a long moment, unable to understand what was happening.
They must have been ajar slightly. My touch opened them. She looked into the opening. She could smell the candles burning; could see their light. She took a deep breath, then stepped inside. She was almost amazed that the ground of the holy place didn't heave up to throw her out.
Stepping forward two paces, she then paused to remove her sword. One did not wear weapons into the church. She set it beside the door, then turned to continue on. There was no one there; not even the priests were present at the moment. She stopped halfway down the aisle, then crossed herself. It still felt wrong, even though it shouldn't. She still felt uncomfortable.
I shouldn't have come here, she thought, even as she continued on toward the altar. She lit one of the candles, then knelt down on one knee. She wanted to pray but nothing would come, so she just knelt there for a moment. It was the least she owed her father.
She stayed there for a long moment, her mind blank. Finally she sighed, crossed herself again, and stood up. It was hopeless. However she must have been concentrating more than she had thought, because she hadn't heard anyone else come in. But when she turned around, someone was there. She jumped slightly, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I disturbed you," she told him.
He didn't say anything. She didn't recognize him, thought he was one of the priests. Something about his silence discomfited her; she felt she had to explain. "I was just trying to pray." She said, looking over her shoulder at the alter. "I didn't mean to get in the way."
Again, he didn't say anything. She bit her bottom lip, looking away. She kept her eyes away from him for a long time, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. She had a flashback to one of the few times she'd been reprimanded by her father; the near shame was the same. When she finally got up enough bravery to look back, he was gone.
She frowned, looking around the chapel. "Where'd he go," she wondered aloud. Nothing answered her but the faint echo of her own voice. Swallowing, she moved back up the aisle, picking up speed but unable to make herself actually run in church, no matter how frightened. She picked up her sword as she went by, and the next moment she was out into the halls again.
She was unnerved, to say the least. Was God trying to tell her something? Trying to tell her that she didn't belong in the church?
Bethany knew her sins were unforgivable, but for the first time in her life she felt as if God had actually put His back to her. Tears started down her face and she stopped running, falling down to her knees as she covered her face. She didn't hear anyone else in the hall, and wouldn't have if someone hadn't come up and put an arm around her shoulders.
She stiffened, but didn't even look to see who it was. Her shame at being discovered in such a state only compounded things, and she cried harder.
"Shh..." Arhyn's voice soothed her, the arms around her tightening. She fought to get her sobs under control. It seemed she fought harder at that than she ever did in battle, but she finally managed it.
"I'm sorry," She said at last. "I must look a hideous sight."
"Pish. I've seen you look worse." The older woman hugged her. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She was about to decline. The last thing she wanted was to speak of this, but she found herself answering anyway. "I can't pray any more." She said. "I tried and I can't find the words. I think God has abandoned me."
Arhyn stood, helping Bethany stand as well. "Let's go to your room. I don't think you want to talk about this in the hallway."
She let herself be lead, taking the time to get the tears under better control. By the time they got to her room they had stopped, only the redness in her eyes showing she'd cried at all.
"Do you want me to call up some tea," the sorceress asked. "Or something else?" She was obviously trying to set the girl at ease.
Bethany shook her head, smiling weakly. "No, thank you Arhyn. I don't need anything."
"In that case, why don't you tell me why you think God's abandoned you?"
Bethany sat down, then shook her head. "I've always felt like I could turn to Him, no matter what I had done. I've never had any difficulty praying...but now, I just keep coming up empty."
The older woman nodded, sitting down as well. "Bethany, you've been through a very hard time in your life. And I'm sure that the things that happened just seem completely awful. But God loves you, no matter what you've done. Maybe all you need is confession. How long has it been?"
"Since before the battle." She said. "I don't think it's just the need for confession. I may have gone down to the church just now for that very reason; I'm not entirely sure why I did. There was a man...I didn't hear him come or go, but he was there for a short time."
Arhyn reached out, taking the young woman's hand. "Bethany...I know you. And I know that you are one of the kindest people I know. God would never forsake you."
"You would call me kind even if you were to come upon me torturing a dog, or kicking a child." Bethany retorted. "If God has not forsaken me, then why can I not pray? Who was this man that looked at me as if I were filth?"
The older woman sighed, rolling her eyes. "You may be reading things into it," she said. "Perhaps you have to come to terms with yourself as you are now before you can ask God to."
Bethany shook her head, looking away toward the window. After a moment she spoke again. "I did what you asked. I wrote down what happened. Everything."
Arhyn didn't make any moves toward the book. She only watched Bethany. "That's good." She paused for a moment. "It is good to see you again, my dear."
Bethany looked back at her. "It's good to see you too, Arhyn." She replied, squeezing the hand in hers. Arhyn leaned forward, kissing Bethany's cheek.
"Get some rest. You've had a very busy day."
"I will. I'll see you in the morning, Arhyn. I want you at court."
"Of course," the woman replied, smiling. Then she left.
Bethany sat in the chair for a few minutes longer, before she rose and changed. She slipped into bed and lay back, staring at the ceiling high above her for a long while before sleep finally caught up with her.
She didn't know, but someone else was having just as hard a time sleeping as she was. Down the hall, Vincent Winterhall was staring at his own ceiling.
How many nights over the last year had he spent just like this, staring at the ceiling, unable to rest? How many times had he finally closed his eyes only to have nightmares about Bethany's death? He was afraid. He was scared that he would sleep and find that this evening had been false. That, somehow, this had all been a dream. It could be. He'd had many such dreams in the last year, as well as the nightmares.
Still, he'd been pinching himself several times since she'd appeared in the middle of a group of travelling players. He hadn't woken up yet.
He pinched himself again, just to make sure, and was rewarded with nothing but the instant and diminishing pain. Still, he couldn't quite make himself sleep. If this wasn't a dream, if he did wake in the morning to find Bethany there, he wasn't sure what he would do.
He didn't know what she had been through since the battle. He knew that she had been injured and raped; the seargent that had told them the tale of her death had said as much. But beyond that, he hadn't a clue. What he found himself most afraid of, though, was that she might not want him anymore. It wouldn't have been unusual, especially with the few things that he knew she'd been through. But he also knew that, if it made her uncomfortable, he wouldn't stay around.
He didn't know what he'd do without her, however. Her not wanting him was one thing; imagining himself without her was another. He would go home, he supposed. His father could always use the help against the Goskans that were now more a nuisance than a threat.
He shook his head, turning over and punching his pillow. It wouldn't do any good to worry about this right now. Still, he couldn't fall asleep. He continued to try, however, until only a few hours before dawn. He finally gave it up, rose, and dressed.
"It wouldn't exactly be the first time," he told himself, running a hand through his hair, then rubbing his eyes.
He employed himself with busywork for a while; polishing his boots, checking the edges on his sword and his dagger. These done he headed downstairs, finding miscellaneous small things to do or help with, until the sun had come up and the castle was truly beginning to stir. He found himself crossing his fingers, watching the main stairs of the castle. If it hadn't been a dream, that was where Bethany would be coming.
Sarissa came down first; she was always the first up. After a while Loretta came down with baby John and his nurse. She gave Vincent a grin and a wave.
He smiled to them as well, waving. His eyes slid back to the stairs immediately, though. July was next, and for a moment in the shadows at the top of the stairs she looked like Bethany. Then, at last, she came down. She was looking at the stairs as she went, her auburn hair half-fallen into her face.
He drew in a deep breath, tears threatening in his eyes. He wasn't afraid to cry, especially not about something like this. He walked forward to meet her at the bottom of the stairs.
She didn't see him until she had only five stairs left. She finally looked up, caught his eyes, and stopped. For a moment they just stood there, then she smiled. "Good morning, Vincent."
He smiled back, knowing that he looked very relieved. "Good morning, Bethany." Lord, did that feel good to say again.
She took the last few stairs. "You're up very early," She said. "I wasn't expecting to see you until breakfast at least."
"Actually, I didn't sleep well last night," he admitted. "And staring at the ceiling wasn't very interesting."
Her eyebrows knit and concern moved into her gray eyes. "You didn't? Are you all right?"
He reached over and touched her hand. "I'm fine," he told her. "I..." He shook his head. "I was just afraid of this being a dream."
She smiled. "I can understand that." She said softly, then, "We'd better be getting to breakfast; I have to have time to change before court." She wrinkled her nose.
Vincent chuckled a bit. "It won't be as bad as all that," he told her.
"I'm not worried about court." She said. "It's those cursed dresses."
He nodded. "Maybe, now that you're queen, you can do something about that, hmm?" He put out his arm. "May I escourt Your Majesty to breakfast?"
"Why, thank you." She laughed, then took his arm.
He could tell there was more than formal court on her mind. She wasn't as at ease as he as he always remembered her. Still, she had spoken to him. She had joked with him, and she hadn't hesitated in taking his arm. All were good signs.
He patted her hand. "I'm so glad that it wasn't a dream," he said after a moment..
He had to release her upon entering the Royal dining room, as she was immediately swamped by Loretta, July, Sarissa, and little John. Arhyn and Lion were already there, and the former went to rescue the queen from her enthusiastic siblings. Bethany grinned, though, hugging each of the siblings in turn. "It's good to see you too," she said.
"All right, all right, she's not going anywhere." Arhyn smiled. "Go find your seats."
Vincent decided to make his own little joke about the whole thing. "I seem to have a bit of a problem," he said. "I'm not sure where to sit." He grinned sheepishly.
Arhyn blinked, as if she hadn't thought of that, but Bethany took it in stride. "My father made you king, and king you remain." She said. "You sit at the head."
He shook his head. "Oh no. You're the queen," he noted. "That's your place to sit."
"My mother was the queen as well." She retorted. "And she sat over on the king's left. So I sit on the king's left."
"But the difference is..."
"Do as she asks," Arhyn chuckled. "You should know better, Vincent. It is impossible to win a fight with Bethany."
Bethany grinned at him, then moved to the seat her mother used to occupy. A moment later Vincent sat down at the head, still looking uncomfortable.
There was a difference. A fairly major one. Her mother and father had been married, for one. For another, her father had also been the heir of his father.
As breakfast was being served Bethany looked over at Arhyn. "That seargent that brought you my cloak...Seargent Patrick, I believe his name is. Do you remember him?"
Arhyn nodded. "Of course I remember him," she said. "He's still in the castle's service."
"Would you make sure he's at court this morning?" Bethany asked. "I want to speak with him."
Arhyn nodded. "Certainly." Lion, as usual, was not saying much.
Halfway through the meal, Jiji appeared out of nowhere, climbing up the table leg and making a beeline for the bowl of fruit. "I was wondering where you'd got to." Bethany told him. "You remember your manners, young man."
Her younger siblings were enamored of the white monkey. Vincent could only laugh at his love trying to keep a handle on Jiji. Finally she picked him up, looking sternly into his brown eyes. "Don't make me have to ground you." He looked at her, then removed the grape he'd just tucked into his mouth, holding it out to her. Loretta laughed so hard she nearly fell off of her chair. Bethany rolled her eyes and put the monkey down. "No, thanks. You can keep it."
He tucked it back into his mouth, went off across the table and started stealing off of Loretta's plate, who was still laughing. Bethany shook her head, then stood and excused herself. "I'm going to go get dressed. I'll see you all at court."
Vincent watched her, then nodded. "All right," he said, taking her hand and kissing it.
He couldn't be sure, but he thought she pulled away a little quickly. Still, she smiled before heading out of the dining room
Stop worrying about it, he thought, bowing his head. But God, PLEASE let her be all right. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her again.
Bethany got to her rooms to find the handmaidens waiting for her. She shooed them out; she didn't need any help getting dressed, and certainly didn't need fussed over like a child. Finally ridding herself of them she changed into a blue gown, having only minor difficulties with the buttons, then settled down to work on her hair.
She didn't want to worry everyone. But, she still felt like a fraud. Like she was doing things that she really shouldn't be. She was no queen. She had never wanted to be a queen. She would be perfectly happy never wearing another dress or sitting in on another court. She brushed her hair one way, growled, then brushed it the other. Despite what everyone insisted and despite her efforts, she still looked only plain at best.
She stared at the mirror. "What is it that Vincent sees in me," she wondered, shaking her head. She sat back, genuinely trying to understand. She knew what she saw in him. He was kind and thoughtful, infinitely considerate and completely unaware of how charming he could be. But what he saw in her remained a mystery; one the girl in the glass refused to answer.
Part of her wanted to stop thinking about it. Wasn't it enough that he did see something in that plain-looking woman in the glass?
The other part couldn't leave it alone, and couldn't understand it no matter what she tried. Finally she stood up, to finish preparing before Arhyn and Lion came up to fetch her.
She wasn't sure when the coronation was going to be held. She knew that she had to be crowned at some point, and that scared her. Mainly because it meant having to go back into the chapel at the very least. She remembered the man in the church from the night before, and shivered. Arhyn knocked and she sighed in relief for the distraction. "Come in."
The woman entered, smiling at Bethany. "I know you hate the dress, but it's necessary for now."
"That is the only reason it's on me, and not being sent off to the incinerators." She replied. "Tell me I don't look too hideous, at least?"
"You've never looked hideous," Arhyn noted. "Now stop that."
She looked back at the mirror. "Well, she's telling me different." She said. "Still, I suppose there's only so much can be done."
Arhyn sighed. "I know pride is a sin, but sometimes I think you take humility to the extremes."
"I'm not being humble, I'm being honest." Bethany said. "We could argue about this all day. Come on, let's go down."
The older woman nodded, opening the door. "Yes, let's."
The others were waiting in the anteroom when she arrived, save July and Vincent. Loretta still had Jiji with her, and reluctantly handed him over to a guard when Arhyn said having him in court would be inappropriate.
Bethany rolled her eyes. "Like he'd care." She smiled at the monkey, reaching over to scratch his head, then took a deep breath. "I'm not ready for this."
"You are more ready than you know." Arhyn insisted. "You'll do just fine."
"You keep saying that," the new queen said, wringing her hands. "I wonder if you have any idea what you're talking about."
Arhyn just smiled knowingly as July came in, Vincent on her heels. She looked a bit nervous herself; as the next youngest of Gareth's children July was the current heir, and would have to sit in the heir's throne.
Bethany took a couple of deep breaths. This wasn't impossible. She could do this.
"You'll do just fine." She heard Vincent say as he put his hand on her shoulder. She nodded, took another deep breath, then led the way into court. It was obvious that, by the reception, rumors of her return hadn't quite gotten around to everyone. Still, there were only one or two gasps of surprise. Most of the nobility had been there the night before.
She ignored them, going to the queen's throne. She could almost feel Vincent tense behind her; he had expected her to take her father's throne, not her mother's. She almost smiled at that, but kept her face schooled. She didn't deserve her father's throne, she knew that.
They sat and after a pause Vincent called the court to order, asking for any new business. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room before someone stepped forward with a property dispute.
Court progressed as it had a million times before, as smoothly as it ever had under her father's rule. There were very few problems to solve, and so within an hour of sitting down Bethany was able to get to the points she'd been thinking about ever since catching sight of Senoth again. "Is Seargent Isaac Patrick here?"
One of the guards at the back seperated himself from the others and came forward, kneeling a few feet away from the dias. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"Stand, please." She said. "You are the man who fought with me in the battle, who came with me to the king's castle in Fatrie, correct?"
He nodded, standing at the same time. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'm sorry I was unable to stop what happened."
She shook her head. "There is no recrimination for that; you couldn't have done anything." She said.
"Then," he said, looking up, "why do you wish to speak to me?"
"Without your help, I never could have done what I set out to do, and there is a chance Senoth could have lost the war." She smiled. "I think that deserves a promotion at the very least."
He stared at her, then began shaking his head. "Surely there are others who deserve that promotion more than I do, my queen," he stammered.
"But not many who would do what you have done for me." She said.
"I'm not certain what you mean."
"You didn't leave me when I told you what I had planned for the king of Fatrie. You knew it was likely a suicide mission and yet you came anyway. You were determined to protect me from the Harmoness, even though we were both outnumbered."
He nodded, bowing his head. She could tell from the look on his face that he still had nightmares about that day.
"That is why you deserve a promotion, and a commendation." She said. "In fact, I'm bestowing upon you the title of Lord Marshall of Senoth."
His eyes, somehow, got wider than before. He started to stutter something about how he didn't deserve such an honor, but she would hear nothing about it.
"As the Lord Marshall you will be granted lands just outside of town." She said, holding up her hand to silence him. "You will act as liason with any foreign ambassadors and you will be in charge of those men charged with keeping the safety of the Royal family."
His shoulders slumped, and he knew he was defeated. When he looked up, though, there was a certain amount of happiness there. "Of course, Your Majesty. I will do the job to the best of my abilities."
"I'm sure that you will be a shining example to all of Senoth." She smiled. "And as your first duty you are to travel to the kingdom of Harmoness and withdraw the treaty."
Vincent turned to her, his jaw dropping. "Bethany," he said softly, "are you certain of this course of action?"
She looked over at him, face set. "I am completely certain." She replied. "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wasn't."
There were more than a few murmurs going around the court, so that only the newly-appointed Lord Marshall seemed to be quiet. Of all the people there, he could understand why she would want him to go there. "I'll make the arrangements at once," he replied.
She nodded deeply at him. "Thank you, my Lord Marshall. I will leave the details to you. If there is no other business, court will be dismissed."
Vincent followed her out, taking her arm once they were out of the main hall. "Bethany," he said. "I think need to talk about something."
She looked at him, then nodded guardedly. "All right. Let's go to my father's study."
They went into the study. Vincent hadn't been in there for quite some time, and was amazed at how clean it was. Apprently the housekeeping staff hadn't ignored it. "Bethany..." He paused, then punged on, "You're the one who should be on your father's throne, not me."
"It is the king's throne, and you are the king." She stated.
"No, I'm more a regent," he replied. "One that isn't needed, now that the true queen has returned to sit on the throne. Your father only wanted me to be king until one of his children could take the throne."
She folded her arms. "I didn't realize it was bothering you so much."
"Bethany..." He walked over, brushing his hand over her shoulder. "What is wrong?"
"I never wanted to be the queen, Vincent. I never wanted it and I never asked for it. You are a good king; why should I stand in the way of that?"
"That's not the problem," he said, reaching up to bring her eyes to his. "There's something more to it."
"You don't know what I've done." She said softly. "You don't know what I've seen this year. Things...things are different."
He took her hand, pulling her over to a chair. "Do you love me?"
"Of course I love you, Vincent." She said. "That was one of the things that got me through, thinking about you."
He sat, holding her hand tighter. "Then tell me. Tell me what you went through, so that I can understand it."
She looked away from him, her jaw tightening. "I don't know."
"Bethany, please." He reached out, turning her face to his again. "I love you as well, and I wish to know what it is that keeps you from enjoying life again."
"It's too long a story." She stalled.
He shook his head. "We have the time."
She finally looked back at him, tears in her eyes. "Do you really want to hear this?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," he smiled, using her own words against her.
So she told him, and it was easier than she'd thought it would be. Apparently writing about it had helped. She told him everything, from being taken prisoner by the Harmoness to being captured by Dugan, to being trained by dragons. She even told him about Lauden kissing her.
Through it all, he listened carefully. During the times when the story was hardest to tell, he held her hand tightly, as though wishing his own strength into her.
"And since coming home I...I don't know." She said. "I just feel like I'm empty. Like God has turned away from me."
"Shh..." He reached out, caressing her cheek. "Never. God would never turn from you, Bethany. He may be troubled, but it could be that you are more troubled by the things that happened than He."
"I just don't know what to do." She said. "I always had my father to turn to, and now he's gone. Then I had God to turn to but I can't pray anymore. I just don't know what to do."
Vincent took her hands, drawing them together. "Don't try so hard," he told her. "You don't have to look very far to find people to turn to. You have Arhyn. And Lion. And me."
"I know. I know I do...it's just..." She shook her head.
He moved over, holding her close to him. "Bethany, we all love you. And, I know it doesn't seem that way to you, but...I don't think you've done anything that God would turn from you for."
She hugged him, laying her head down on his shoulder. She fought the impulse to pull away, knowing he would never hurt her. "I hope you're right, Vincent."
He kissed her forehead. "I think what you're going to do is probably the bravest thing I've ever heard of, love."
"I don't feel brave." She said. "I feel scared to death."
"Nobody said that the brave couldn't be frightened," he told her.
She didn't say anything for a while, then sat back. "You will come tomorrow, won't you? To see Isaac off?"
"Only if you'll stop calling me 'His Majesty'," he replied with a smile. "That's a term for a king, which I am no longer."
She smiled, touched his cheek. "All right. I'll stop calling you His Majesty. For now, any way."
He blinked, feigning surprise. "Why, when else would you call me 'His Majesty'?"
"When you're the king again, of course." She grinned.
He liked the way this was playing out. At least she was smiling again. "Well, I can't see as how that would happen. I mean, my brother is in perfectly good health. The only other way would be..." He smiled secretly.
"Well, I'm not sure July is looking to get married." Bethany smiled right back. "But I'm sure, in a few years..."
He leaned forward, silencing her with a gentle kiss. He didn't stay that way long, since he wasn't sure how she would react. "I don't wish to marry your sister."
"You'll break her heart." Bethany warned. "But I think she'll get over it."
"I hope so," he replied. "Especially since it's you that I wish to marry."
She smiled again, then her look went from humor to serious. "Vincent...I do love you and I want to marry you. It may take me a while before I can really think about it. I have to deal with things first, but I will deal with them. Will you wait for me?"
He smiled, gently. "I waited a year, didn't I? What is another year or two with you alive compared to that single wishing nothing more than to be with you again?"
She looked at him gratefully, then hugged him again. "I love you."
His arms went around her, holding her loosely. "I love you as well."
"Why is it, do you think, that Bethany thinks God has abandoned her?" Lion asked Arhyn later that evening. They were headed through the north quarters of the castle, following little John and his nurse on the way to put the boy to bed.
The woman shook her head. "Apparently she feels she has done a great many things in her year abroad that have stained her soul."
"I find that hard to believe about her; it is not like her to do wicked things." He replied. "Have you read her story yet?"
She shook her head. "I've not had time, though I fully intend to."
He nodded, falling silent again. Then he reached out, taking her hand and stopping her as the nurse and child continued on. "Tell me, Arhyn...what would you do if you found out that she had done something that would cause God to forsake her?"
"That's preposterous," Arhyn replied, yet knew that was part of the reason why she hadn't read the book yet. She didn't want to know if it were true.
"Don't misunderstand me, I don't think that she did, either. But you have to admit, we are a little biased; we've both known her since she was born. And we don't know what she went through, what choices she was forced to make."
She nodded, taking a deep breath. "She's just...so willing to take the sins of others upon herself."
"She feels that she has to atone for every atrocity she sees." Lion agreed. "She feels that she bears responsibility for it because she couldn't stop it."
"Exactly. And though I find it one of her more endearing traits, it is one of her most annoying as well."
"It's possible that this reason she feels God has deserted her is because of something someone else did; something she saw and couldn't stop." Lion said. "However I think that the reason she wishes to break this treaty with Harmoness tomorrow also has something to do with it. I think you need to read her story before morning. I think that's the only way you'll be able to help her."
She nodded, taking a long moment to think on it. "I believe you are right," she agreed.
He touched her face, then nodded. "Go on. I'll make sure John gets put down."
She turned, heading toward Bethany's bedroom. She knew the girl wouldn't be up quite yet, so there was time enough to remove it.
The door wasn't locked, but that was no oddity; Bethany had never locked her door. The book was where she had left it, on her desk next to her quill and inkwell. Arhyn picked it up, feeling the familiar, slight magical vibration from it, then took it down to the library.
It was quiet in there, but also well lit. She opened it, flipping through the pages as quickly as she could, finding the place where she had finished her own story a year before.
It took longer than she had expected to read. And that Bethany had had a run in with Dugan shook her more than anything else. As she read it became clear that what Bethany so fervently denied was happening in her own story was just that; divine intervention. Not just when the Harmoness had tried to hang her, but also when she'd gone into the fire to save the boy's mother.
She shook her head. It didn't seem to her that Bethany had anything to be worried about.
Bethany smiled as she hugged Winter, stroking the horse's face. It was good to see her old friend again, to know she'd gotten back to the castle after Bethany's capture. Even with everything that had changed, she was happy to see that this was one thing that hadn't. And the horse well remembered her as well.
Winter pushed up against her shoulder and she smiled. "I'm glad to see you too." She said. "Look at you. You've been getting all fat in the stables." Actually the horse was in perfect shape, as good a shape as she'd ever been in. Apparently, Winter agreed and snuffled at her, pushing her again.
She laughed, then turned as a shadow fell over her. Patrick bowed. "Are you ready to leave, my Lord Marshall?" She asked.
He nodded, straightening. "Aye, my queen. All ready."
"Good." She stepped back from Winter's stall and turned to him. "You remember all that I told you to say?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." He said. "And if I may venture, this is a very wise and very foolish move for you to make."
"Perhaps more foolish than wisdom." She replied. They left the stables, the Lord Marshall leading his newly-tacked horse. Arhyn, Lion, and Vincent were all in the courtyard, waiting for them. Vincent she was expecting, the other two were a mild surprise.
"I wasn't expecting you to be here." She said to her mentor.
Arhyn smiled. "I thought maybe you would like a little more support in this endeavor."
"I'd be happy for any support offered." She watched as Patrick took the horn of his saddle, mounted. "I intend to make His Majesty, King Atrien, very angry with me."
"Not that he doesn't deserve it," Arhyn nodded.
"That is for God to judge." She replied.
"I know," Arhyn agreed. "However, we poor humans are allowed to be angered by what others of our kind do."
Bethany leaned up and offered her hand to Isaac, who squeezed it. "Good luck, Isaac. We'll be waiting your return word."
"I will go with all haste, Your Majesty." He said, and then released her hand. Turning his mount, he rode toward the castle gates.
"I read your story last night." Arhyn said, as they watched him go. Bethany nodded. "I thought you might have; I noticed it was gone when I retired."
Arhyn nodded as well. "I didn't realize exactly how harrowing your experience had been."
"You couldn't have." She said. "I am still amazed sometimes that I was able to get home."
"Indeed, I wonder how you did as well," the woman answered.
"Why, do you suppose, a dragon chose me to train?" She asked after a moment of silence, feeling Vincent's hand on her shoulder. "That's a question I've asked myself a thousand times since meeting Alun, and I can come up with no answer."
"Why ask what God wishes of us? You may as well ask the North Wind why it is always so cold."
"But do you think that God truly wished it?" She looked over at her mentor. "Alun said that dragons were evil; why would God wish me trained by something evil?"
Arhyn looked up, a solomn look in her eyes. "Perhaps to show you what true evil was," she said. "Or perhaps to show you that no one is completely evil. There were some small moments of kindness."
"Do you think Dugan is completely evil?" She asked. She was heading into tender territory, she knew, and knew she must tread carefully.
That made the woman pause for a long moment. Then, "That is only in God's sight to answer."
Bethany nodded, and offered her friend an understanding smile before turning her eyes momentarily back to the gates. She knew that Atrien would be upset, not only to learn she was alive but that she was dissolving the treaty. Of course, the treaty dissolution was his own fault; when he'd signed it with Vincent he'd looked over the standard, included clause that would claim the document invalid if it was found he'd taken prisoners during the war. It was to protect the treatment of POW's and to account for those missing in action that remained unfound. If it was later found that prisoners had been taken the treaty was null and void.
And of course prisoners had been taken. Well, one, at least. And she'd been sent to be hung three times before escaping. Doubtless Atrien had thought she'd died in the wilderness, and he was in for a shock when Isaac showed up.
The new Lord Marshall returned just before evening, none the worse for wear, and went to report to Bethany.
"He was indeed upset, my queen." He said. "When I spoke of his treaty violation he demanded to know what prisoner had been taken and what proof I had of it. You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had returned."
"And Queen Andrea? Was she there?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. And she looked nothing but pleased at my announcements. She does not hold her husband in high regard, I think."
"No, she does not. The message?"
"Delivered as well."
Bethany smiled. "You've done wonderfully, Isaac. I see my faith in you was not misplaced."
Later that evening, Bethany found herself at the doors to the castle church again. They were closed, as they had been before, and she just stood there for a long time, staring at them. She'd started to face down one demon. Now she had to decide if she could deal with this one.
She had to go in eventually. The coronation wouldn't be long held off and she had to be able to go into the church without difficulty then. Still she kept standing there, making no move to open the door.
This was ridiculous. She hadn't changed so much. Why was this suddenly so hard?
"This is stupid..." She whispered to herself. She was interrupted by the doors suddenly parting and creaking open. As with the night before, no one was there to have opened them. She stared at them, then shivered. There was no way they could have opened of their own volition. And yet, that seemed to be exactly what they had done.
It seemed God wanted her inside. Why he would she had no idea, but..."Thy will be done." She murmured, then passed into the church. Again she felt that feeling of wrongness, weighing her down. She shouldn't be here. She was violating a holy place with her sin.
She still didn't know what to do. It felt to her as though she should just turn around and walk out. Except that that couldn't be what God wanted. Why would He have all but told her to come in in the first place? She was so confused that tears started down her face, even as she removed her sword and set it aside, even as she crossed herself and knelt, trying to find that spark that would let her pray. She folded her hands and bowed her head. There had to be something.
God doesn't love you. The thought wormed its way into her head. He doesn't care about you. You've disgraced Him, allowing yourself to be violated. Do you think Vincent wants to wed an impure woman? You're no better than a common whore.
The tears started falling in ernest now, streaming down her cheeks. It was right. How could Vincent ever want to marry her, after what had happened?
He just doesn't have the heart to hurt your feelings, but he doesn't want you. What man wants to marry a woman who has been used? You're disgusting. How dare you even set foot in God's house? Your father would be ashamed.
She bit back a sob, unfolding her hands to cover her face. But even as the thoughts presented themselves, another part of her was fighting back. Vincent loves you! Look at how he reacted upon your return! He knew what had happened, even then.
He just doesn't want to hurt your feelings. The other spat. You should have done the world a favor and died with that poison. You should have let Meader kill you in the hall. You're a disgrace.
Don't listen to him, the rebel shot back. You know who to ask for help on this. You only need to say the words.
Pah, He won't help you. He has turned His back on you, remember? You are an abomination in His sight, He wishes nothing to do with you.
"Shut up," she said aloud, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. "Just...just shut up..."
You're wicked, Bethany. You're a sinner, the voice continued on and on. You're worthless, you're pathetic. God doesn't love you, He let you be violated. He let those creatures wither under Dugan's power. He let your father die. He cares nothing for you.
Your father and mother are together again, the second voice said gently. And you were given the power to help the others that Dugan held under his sway. You've been taught strength.
You've been taught sin! You allowed yourself to be trained by the wickedest of creatures. You use the dark powers they taught you to save your own, weasely hide.
She put her hands over her ears, then looked up at the altar in the church. "Please," she begged. "Help me. Which is the truth?"
Search in your heart. This one sounded like her own voice. You know what the truth is. "God, help me." She sobbed. White light seemed to explode over her eyes, and before it could fade she had fainted, crumpling silently to the aisle in front of the altar.
She didn't know how long she was like that, but when she awakened, she was in her own bed. A cool hand touched her cheek. "Bethany." Vincent's voice.
She opened her eyes, blinking the blur from them as she took in a careful breath. It sounded too much like a sob, and she tried harder on the next. It came out more controlled.
"Are you all right," he asked, laying his hand on her shoulder. "I found you laid out in the chapel. For a moment..." He paused, averting his eyes a bit.
She nodded. "I'm fine." She said weakly. "I'm just fine." She burst into tears.
He helped her sit up and put his arms around her. "What's wrong, Bethany?"
"Nothing." She said. "Nothing's wrong. Everything is right, Vincent. Everything is finally right."
He kissed her temple, letting her cry as long as she needed. It didn't matter. As long as she was there, he knew everything would be all right.
"I was wrong, Vincent," She said at last, sitting back and putting her hand on his cheek. "I'm so sorry. I was wrong to ever think you wouldn't want me because...of what happened. Can you ever forgive me?"
He looked at her, confused for a moment. Then he smiled softly at her. "You are forgiven," he replied, pulling her hand around to his lips and kissing it.
She hugged him again, relieved beyond words. God had forgiven her. He did love her. And Vincent had forgiven her as well. As long as I have them, there's nothing I can't face.
Vincent kissed her forehead. "You should get some sleep, Bethany."
She nodded, putting her head against his. "You too. Rest well. I'll see you at breakfast."
"Yes, you will," he smiled, bending to kiss her properly before he stood. "I'm glad you're better."
She watched him go, then lay down again. She wiped away a few latent tears, then smiled. Closing her eyes, listening to the silence in the room...she started to pray.
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Story by Becky Farris and Amanda Carlston (c) 2000