22. The Two Piles of Fruit

Chapter 22

The Two Piles of Fruit

M ariel had given up on tracking time about twenty days into her house arrest. One of the staff had told her yesterday it had been two months. She couldn’t imagine what Rylahn was waiting for. His indecision wasn’t a good look, for a leader who had the rare and precious opportunity to make an example of the biggest thorn in the side of the powerful.

She supposed he was embarrassed he’d let a criminal into his own house... let her marry his heir. Perhaps if he could uncover the names of the others, Mariel’s involvement might blend into the background and lessen the scandal. But the longer he held her, the more judgment would come down on him for his hesitation.

But something about her scared Rylahn. She’d yet to solve what it was. House arrest in his own keep, no public declaration of her capture, no singing his victory far and wide... Those were not the actions of a man who should be on top of the world, parading his prize in a triumph for all.

Even if he was cautious about how it would look for Mariel to be the face of it all, he could have made an example of Destin, but he hadn’t. Yet.

She’d been treated surprisingly well. Fed the same meals she would have eaten if she were free. Attendants were sent to assist her, and her clothing was taken to laundry. They’d even unbolted one of the windows, so she could enjoy fresh air. That had been a recent change, Hestia’s doing. Mariel hadn’t asked for it, but she was grateful to breathe in something other than the same air she’d been stuck with for weeks.

The apartment was on the topmost floor of the keep, isolated from the bustle she had been used to, in a quiet corner overlooking the sea. She spent many of her hours sitting upon the bench she’d pulled to the window, reliving the day Erran had leaped into the sea after her. The day everything had changed.

She hadn’t seen or heard from him since the evening she’d been locked away. Whether it was Rylahn’s doing or Erran’s, she couldn’t know. It hurt the same.

The door opened behind her. She didn’t bother looking. It was noontide, the hour of her first daily interrogation. That meant it was Rylahn, come to whittle her down. Hestia would be by just after supper for her own round, with her softer touch to balance the approach.

“Are you still treated well?” He always opened with the same question.

“Aye.” She always responded with the same answer.

“Do you need for anything?”

“Nay.”

“Very well.” His chair scraped the stones as he dragged it to the window.

“How is my brother?”

“Still on house arrest, like you. Never misses a meal.” His answer never changed, but that was why she asked every time, because as long as Destin was still in the keep, he was safe. She was still grateful every day that Rylahn had moved him from the jail, even if his reasons hadn’t been altruistic.

The subsequent silence was for the question she never asked—couldn’t ask. And Erran?

“Mariel.” Rylahn straddled his chair across from her. “Sixty-one days you’ve been in here.”

She nodded at the window. Sixty-one days then. “And sixty-one days you’ve asked me the same questions over and over, because that’s how men are taught interrogations work. You wear the person down with repetition until they give you what you’re after.”

“I have never interrogated you. I have been kinder than most of my peers would be.” He watched her. What did he see? A woman beaten? Hanging onto... what, she didn’t even know. Not her freedom, which would never be hers again. Not even Destin, whom she had no power to save. “But this has gone on long enough. This morning, right now, will be your final chance to give me the names of your cohorts. Just give me two. I know there were more, but I’ll settle for two.”

“And when I don’t?”

“I have another way of getting what I need. But the only thing that can help you and your brother is your cooperation right now. If I get what I need without having to resort to extraordinary measures, I’ll free you both.”

“And what happens to my friends?” Mariel asked in challenge. She needed to hear him say it.

“They will hang,” he responded calmly. “As they should. As you should. But I find myself unable to make the order against a woman my son, for reasons I will never comprehend, loved.”

Loved. Not loves. Mariel’s pulse raced from the sudden jolt of pain. “What does free us mean? Release us so some other man can claim the catch? Run from one prison into another?”

He chortled, passing a hand around the room. “A prison? Mariel, have you ever experienced prison? True prison? Your food would be moldy and rotten, if you were fed at all. You’d pray for the gallows, for at least you’d be free of the rats who don’t wait for you to die, only to sleep, before they feast upon you. And the cold... Have you ever been cold in the Southerlands? Ask a man in prison. He won’t even have an answer, for all it will bring back.”

“And that’s what awaits me, isn’t it? If you ‘let me go,’ as you say.” She wasn’t sure why she was antagonizing him, because she had no intention on day sixty-one of giving up the names he’d asked for since day one. Even if he was good on his word to release her, she’d never give up her friends.

One thing heartening her was knowing Erran couldn’t possibly have outed Remy and Augustine, or his father would have their heads. However else her husband felt about her, he’d been good on his word. Samuel and Hamish too.

“I couldn’t ken what awaits a creature like you.” His green eyes briefly narrowed. Sometimes, it was Erran looking back at her. She hadn’t realized how closely the men resembled each other until she’d been forced to stare at the steward for so many days on end. “If it does, it will not be me or my doing which puts you there.”

She had no reason to believe him, though she did, but her belief in his word had no part in her refusal to speak. There was no freedom for her if it came at the cost of her friends, who had followed her vision, her passion. Destin would feel the same. If not, he wouldn’t still be under house arrest, dealing with the same daily interrogations.

“Mariel.” Rylahn leaned in, offering his “be reasonable” sigh, which she’d become familiar with even before he’d locked her away. It was Erran’s sigh. It had the same light exasperation he often tried to temper when she was being wittingly unreasonable. Except when Erran did it, he was never cross for long. Tenderness wasn’t far behind. “Help me help you and Destin. Your mates will be discovered before long either way. You were never going to be able to run forever. All you’re doing is deferring the inevitable.”

“If that were true, you would not have wasted sixty-one days with me,” Mariel replied. “You’re no further along than you were two months ago. And I will nay contribute to getting you closer. Aye, no matter the cost.”

Rylahn rolled his tongue along the inside of his mouth. He glanced out the window, nodding. “I’ve been coming for sixty-one days because, despite what you’ve done, Erran was fond of you. He’s well rid of you now, and gladly, but it would still hurt him to see you swing. I’ve been trying to spare him that pain, but...” He stood abruptly and checked his pocket timekeeper. “You have until I leave this room to change your mind. First, let me tell you why you should. When I leave here, I’ll be publicly announcing the go-ahead of the private auction your actions delayed. The location, the properties, all of it will be tacked upon tavern walls, banks, anywhere anyone with eyes can see. Everyone who wants to know will know. Can you think of anyone you know who might want this information? Who might show their faces on the day?”

Mariel’s blood cooled. It was a shrewd move for Rylahn, baiting Obsidian Sky, and two months ago, it might not have worked. But Augustine would have learned by now where Mariel and Destin were. Remy would have pulled Alessia and Magnur back in to solicit their help. They were smart enough to bide their time, but then again, a refresh of the auction might be exactly the dangling promise to smoke them out of hiding. There was an equal chance of them seeing the trap as walking into it.

“I see you understand.” Rylahn checked his timekeeper. “Your answer.”

Mariel locked his gaze and spat at his feet.

Rylahn pursed his mouth and whistled. “Aye, well at least I can look my son in the eyes and say I tried.” He spun and marched out. The air whooshed with the soft slam of the doors. Mariel flinched.

When her composure returned, Mariel rose and went to the desk to withdraw the vellum and ink that had been left for her to write her confession. Instead, she composed a letter to Erran.

There was almost no chance of it making it to him. The attendants had no reason to betray their steward to aid her.

And if it made it to him, there was even less of a chance that he would do as she asked.

More than likely, her words would hasten her demise.

Tell OS to be vigilant and trust no temptation. If you ever loved me truly, then do this one last thing for me. I release you of your obligation to me. No matter what lies your father puts in your ear, I did and do love you. The heart is incapable of lies.

Mariel folded the letter and waited for her attendant.

Erran’s eyes glossed in his mindless study of the portrait hanging above his father’s desk. The man, bedecked in the boldest, gilt admiral’s uniform he’d ever seen, was their ancestor, Drummond Rutland, who had built Goldsea Spires many years past. His statue graced their cliffside—if “graced” was even an accurate description. It was the tallest statue in the kingdom, by no small margin. Some of the mariners had dubbed it Drummond’s Cock, a shining, phallic beacon of protection that kept them from veering too close to shore.

“I will tell you what I tell you every day, son,” Rylahn said as he stormed in. His gait was heavier, more pronounced than it had been on any of the prior days Erran had sat waiting for him in his office. “She’s a criminal. Criminals have but one code of honor, and that is protecting other criminals.” He ripped his chair out from the desk but didn’t sit. His eyes closed through his slow breathing exercise.

“Today was different,” Erran noted aloud. He gripped the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “Wasn’t it?”

“Different in that we near the end.” Rylahn tapped his chest and sank onto the hard wood. “I offered her one last chance, and she threw it in my face. Two months I’ve put up with her, for you. So now we do it my way.”

Erran’s hands tightened on the chair as the room wavered. He’d had almost a season to practice the calm his father required for such conversations, but the turmoil within had no outlet. Every night before bed, he screamed into the sea, but it couldn’t come close to repairing the peace he’d felt with Mariel wrapped in his arms, safe against his heart. There was no relief from the absence of it, or the fear he would never again possess the power to save her.

To do so would start a war. Son against father.

One that, after two months of his wife being locked away, he was ready to fight. To bleed for.

To die for.

“Did you hear me?”

“Aye,” Erran murmured. He cleared his throat and said it again louder, knowing his father loathed mumbling. “I heard you.”

“You’re nay going to ask me?”

Erran suppressed everything he should have said, for it had all already been tried and had failed. “I have no questions unless the answer involves my wife returned to me, safe and unharmed.”

Rylahn groaned with an exasperated look at the ceiling. “Have you not learned from the Yesenia fiasco? Can you not see how a woman might use what the Guardians gave her to confuse you?”

“You look down upon me for loving someone who deceived us, and I understand why you might.” Erran released the chair and brought his aching hands to his lap. “But I have tried these weeks to tell you why, and you have refused to hear.”

“That your wife was a vigilante who married into our family to take from us? Aye, I heard you.”

“Nay,” Erran said slowly, breathing steadily out. Whatever had happened between his father and Mariel had been a turning point. The restraint Erran had been channeling all those weeks no longer served any need. Either his father released her or Erran would call upon every person Mariel had ever aided to help him do it himself. “That she was righting wrongs done upon her people. That her heart is bigger than the White Sea, and her intentions pure. Her actions should spark reflection, but instead they draw threats and retribution. You ask me if I can learn from my mistakes, but respectfully, Father, can you?”

Rylahn’s face distorted in irritation. “Is this your mother’s doing? Has she coddled you too much, made you soft?”

“Did you hear anything I said? Mariel only sought to return to her people what rightfully belonged to them! Do you ken she asked for a life as an outlaw? Always on the run? Always looking over her shoulder? Can you not see how we bear responsibility for creating her?”

“Oh, aye, and how she’s indoctrinated you!”

“Nay, Father. What she’s done is open my eyes!” Erran sprang to his feet and dropped over his father’s desk. “With love . You can turn your nose when I say it, but Mariel loved me, and I love her still.”

“Erran, a woman like her is incapable of love.”

“A woman like her is afraid of love, for how can she know that, too, will not be taken from her?” Erran sucked through his teeth, suppressing the fervor raging so hot within him, his face was a blazing mess. But he’d already gone too far to stop. “What would you know of love, Father?”

“Think with your head , son. Not the one between your legs. She used you. And because of your lack of cunning, she nearly won.”

“If you believe that...” Erran pushed angry breaths through his nose. “Why have you not killed her? Or her brother? It’s not like you to spare someone who has wronged you.”

“Do I have to make it so clear?” Rylahn thrust a hand toward the door. “Your harlot bride and her ne’er-do-well brother were the only ones who could reveal the others. Unless you already know their names?”

“Have you given her any of my letters? Even one?”

Rylahn laughed. “You know I haven’t.”

“There, right there.” Erran slammed his palm onto a stack of paper. “If you didn’t believe she loved me, you wouldn’t isolate her so! You would allow her to see me. But you know she would not turn me away. You know she wants me there, and this scares you! It scares you that she’s right, and that you’ve caused all the harm and suffering. I’ve never seen you so scared. Because if your own son would...”

Rylahn’s jaw clenched. “Would what, Errandil?”

“You know, Father, even Sessaly believes this has gone too far.” Erran wiped the fresh sweat from his face. “She sits outside of Mariel’s room and knits, hoping her presence might bring Mariel some comfort. Doesn’t say a word. No one knows she’s there. Does that sound like our Ses?” Erran laughed bitterly. “Nay, I ken this is a revelation to you as well, for if you thought she was in any danger of helping Mariel, you’d have barred her from the wing just as you have me.”

Rylahn’s unsettling calm didn’t make it to his eyes, two dilated balls of rage. “You have a fortnight to make peace with her end. By then I will have what I need, and I will watch, knowing I was more than fair, as she and her mates swing from the scaffold I will have built with my own hands. Now leave me!”

“If you harm her, even a hair on her beautiful head, you will never see me again,” Erran warned. The dark, boiling pressure had risen into his neck. Spots troubled his eyes. “I will raise an army?—”

Rylahn threw his head back and cackled. “And who would follow you, son? What man would go against their steward to save a thief ?”

“The same men who lost everything because of you,” Erran said and shoved away from the desk.

Rylahn’s pause was icy. “How long have you known?”

Erran shook his head with a cold sneer.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“You would forsake everything you have trained for? All you were born for? For a woman who loathed you, tricked you, and seduced you into believing her lies?” Rylahn’s anger had become disgust. “A man so easily swayed by the wiles of a lass is nay fit to lead a household, let alone an admiralty.”

Erran wasn’t sure who he was anymore, who he should be. He knew only that either love was enough to save Mariel or it would be what damned them both. “Then give it to someone else, and I will take her in its place.”

Rylahn’s revolted grin peeled back over his teeth. “In the end, Erran, you will walk away with neither.”

Erran turned his hand to a fist and rapped the doorframe with his knuckles. “We’ll see.”

Mariel twitched and nearly fell out of her chair. Her legs slipped from the cushion to the floor as she wiped the drool from her mouth, but the sight of Hestia kneeling in front of her was so disarming, she couldn’t even remember what she’d been doing.

“Good to see you resting,” Hestia said, as though she meant it.

Even in her bitterness toward all Rutlands not named Erran, Mariel had recognized the way Hestia had been slowly introducing small luxuries to her routine. The window. A soft robe for after her baths. Even the water was hotter now, and she had two attendants minding her across the hours, despite that she required none. Sour wine had been replaced with a light, refreshing cider, and there was always, always fresh fruit awaiting her in the morning.

“I didn’t mean to,” Mariel mumbled. She buried her face in the shawl still wrapped around her and sloughed off the dried remnants of sleep.

“Aye, well you need to, pet. Rest all you can.” Hestia removed Mariel’s stockings and dragged a basin from nearby. She settled Mariel’s feet into the cold water.

“Ah! What are you doing?” Mariel recoiled with a gasp, but Hestia gave her a chiding tap and she relented.

“It will help with the swelling,” Hestia explained.

“What swelling?” Mariel squinted at her feet in the water.

“How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Same as I’ve felt since the day you threw me in here.”

“Really?”

No, not really, but Mariel wouldn’t let any of them have the satisfaction of knowing the stress was making her ill. Some mornings she couldn’t eat at all. And the exhaustion was befuddling, with how little room she had to roam.

“Perhaps you are one of the fortunate ones.” She stood, casting a frown over the center table. “I’ll call for more fruit.”

Mariel glanced at the bowl to be certain, but there were still plenty of oranges... starfruit. She hadn’t touched the cherries either. “I have enough.”

“You should eat more.”

“Hestia, why do you care what I eat? Whether I have air?” Mariel asked, sighing. “Why does any of this matter when I’ll be sent to the gallows soon?”

Hestia went to the fruit and separated it into two piles. “Because you will not be going to the gallows, Mariel.”

“How so?” Mariel turned, but Hestia clucked her tongue, and she stayed put. Her obedience was maddening, but the long nights and rough mornings had taken most of the fight out of her.

“My husband has sent word of the auction, which is to be held in a few days. His announcement includes double the land initially offered.”

Mariel curled her toes in the chill water. “He’s taking more land from more people who don’t deserve it?”

“He has to stir their anger somehow. Anger leads to mistakes, and mistakes will end this unfortunate matter.” She dusted her hands and put half of the fruit back in the bowl, turning her nose at the discarded pile, even though it had been brought just that morning. “One can hope anyway. We are all ready for this to end. You as well, I imagine.”

She was, but she and Hestia seemed to have different ideas of what the end looked like. “Then how can you say I won’t hang? He’ll get what he wants and have no use of me.”

Hestia crossed her arms with a heavy exhale. “Oh, pet. He was never going to execute you. It was your brother he was trying to spare, and now you’ve given him no reason to.”

“What do you mean he was never going to execute me? Why has it been two months, then? And why...” She stopped. She needed answers to those questions before asking others.

“He had to be sure you weren’t carrying our heir,” Hestia said coolly.

Mariel snorted into a laugh. “So what’s stopping him now?”

Hestia walked slowly over. She reached behind Mariel to gather the shawl and wrapped it around her. “Poor dear, you’ve been without a mother so long, of course you couldn’t know.” She pressed her lips to Mariel’s forehead. “You are with child, Mariel. And we do not execute mothers. A child needs their mother, but how involved you get to be in their life depends wholly on what you say and do next.”

Mariel watched the hearth wither and shrink and then passed out.