Page 92 of The Court of Venus

At sunset, I found Bess and the members of Roland’s household scrambling to pack our trunks.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

She curtseyed. “His Grace has gone for a walk.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek and set off through the palace. His mind—his bright emotions—my flare.

I found him sitting in the grotto, watching the sun burn on the horizon and tossing pebbles into the mermaid fountain. He brushed each rock with his thumb before he angled it. Frogs and turtles kicked through mucky green water. A courtier’s laugh pierced the silence, then fell away.

“Are we leaving?” I called.

He did not turn his head as he said, “In the morning.”

“Why was I not consulted?”

He swung around, eyes blazing. “Consulted? I’m the lord chancellor of Alvion, and tomorrow is Cecily Guildford’s coronation. I must be there. I’ve left them to scheme long enough.” He hurled another stone. “This mission was a waste of time. A dead end.”

The angles of his face were cut by the setting sun. For once, I was not afraid of his beauty. I stood between his knees and took his face in my hands, tears streaming openly down my cheeks. “Roland, you cannot be hard with me. I know how you’re feeling beneath it.”

“I feel nothing,” he lied.

“I am so sorry.” As I blinked away tears, I pushed my emotions into his mind, because an apology didn’t suffice. “Hal and I lived in secret. In the months we were together, I never told a soul, and I only knew how to hide that part of myself away. It became easier. And when he died, it was easier still. I was lost in grief. I had my masks to cover it. When I first arrived at the palace, I couldn’t let you see me that way. As this broken, shameful thing. I didn’t know if I could trust you. But each day, as you and I grew—” I struggled to find what had changed between us. “—closer, I was ripped apart.” Every word drew his eyes higher. “I can feel how hurt you are. I wish I could take it away. I hate that I’m the cause.”

He lifted his face at last. “When did it end?”

“When I made my oath to the Staffords. Prospero said it was time for me to be sworn to a family. I couldn’t—” A sniff. “I couldn’t understand why he was sending me away years early, but I agreed. I left. It was better that way. Better to go and be broken than to stay and eventually break someone else.”

My hands roamed over his shoulders, his cheeks, as he struggled for words. “I knew you wanted to tell me something. I had hoped—” His jaw worked suddenly. “I see lines between people. I told you that. But there’s something else, too—a light inside of everyone I meet. Some are brighter than others. I used to believe, when I was young, before I met Marguerite, that it simply was their—for lack of a better phrase—baser instinct. But it wasn’t that. The light was how deeply they had loved. And you glow, Bianca. You glow so brightly. Perhaps, even though I never saw you two together, I should have known.” Another flex of his jaw. “When you came to court, you were relentless for answers about his death. I thought it so strange. Were Bianca and Hal so close, I wondered?”

His head dipped again in my hands. Neither of us had been able to carry our grief alone. It was too heavy. By not confiding in him, by not sharing the burden, I’d only prolonged my suffering.

“The other night,” he said. “You were remembering Hal when you turned me away.”

“No, I was guilty, because for once, I was not remembering him at all.”

He twisted his ring, avoiding my eyes again. Rubbing the band as if to wear the metal down. “How can I think of him the same, knowing he kept this from me? He might have written and told me. I’m more betrayed by him than you.”

“When you were in Lionesse, he waited patiently for your letters. He longed to hear from you. But when they did arrive, they were meager scraps of your life. Hal and I were going to tell you when you returned, but we fought when I left for the Staffords. And then, just months later, he—he died.” I hung my head. “You didn’t think of me for years, Roland. How was I to know I’d return to court and feel—”

His finger stilled on his ring. “Feel what?”

I hesitated. Words stalled in my throat. A Mercury would cut through the silence and find the true meaning.

“You are not broken,” he murmured softly. “Loving never breaks us. It only binds us. Makes us stronger. That is the first lesson a Venusborn learns.”

I blinked down at him, eyes brimming. “How can that be true? I could never give Hal an heir. I would have denied him his future, his legacy. I would have cost him everything. Prospero meant for him to marry the—”

With a shake of his head, he scoffed. “I wonder when you’re going to stop defending dear Prospero. Are you so blinded? Prospero made choices that failed us all. I told you I was sent a letter after Hal’s death to return to Alvion. Prospero claimed to want me by his side.” A bitter laugh. “No. He bid me to return because he wanted to feed me to the king, to slap me onto a plate so Richard could go on ruling forever. He sought exaltation knowing I was to be the sacrifice.”

“I hate him,” I whispered, but I wasn’t sure it was true.

“I hate him more, I assure you.” He noticed something in my expression then, and his eyes widened.

It settled between us. What I wanted to do. Where I would go.

I grasped for his hand, but he drew it away from me. “For you, Roland. If exaltation isn’t the answer, there must be another way forward. It was always Prospero. It all points to him. Prospero and Hal argued the night before Hal’s death. Prospero plotted to use you to save the king. And Prospero will know about the star chart we found, what event is foretold.”

“How about I hazard a guess? In six days, Richard will still be king, Cecily will be queen, and I will be dead. No one returns the same from Bastian, if they return at all. They come back wretched, famished—nothing will sate them again. Balthasar will dangle a reunion before you, so tantalizing, so sweet. That is his power, and he knows it. An end to the grief. An end to suffering. All the answers you could ever hope for. But Prospero won’t see you. He won’t help you. He’s refused me already. His ghost was oh-so-quiet when I called for him. Do you know why?” He stood, backing me against the wall of the grotto’s cave, my spine meeting stone. My chin rose. “Because he was ashamed to face me. He tried to use me, and he failed.”