“That is correct.”
“What about Lady Ariana?”
Merek nodded slowly. “I knew her as a child, yes.” His tone was guarded.
Otto folded his hands on the table and decided to be frank. “For many days now, I have believed Lady Ariana guilty of conspiring against me.” Otto paused to gauge Merek’s reaction, but the old man didn’t move. “With her father, Sir Leon,” he added.
Merek pursed his lips. “There was no love lost between Lady Ariana and her father. It was always said Sir Leon regretted his match with her mother.” Merek looked down at his herb-stained hands. “She was a druid, you know?”
“Ariana’s mother?” Otto’s tone revealed his surprise.
Merek nodded slowly. “She taught me much.” He indicated the tools of his trade. “I owe her a debt of gratitude.”
“So Ariana had sympathy with the druids?” Otto’s mind was racing. He drummed his fingers on the table, coming dangerously close to unsettling the bowl of dried lavender.
“That’s true.” Merek paused, indecision flickering across anxious eyes which eventually landed on Otto. He took a breath. “Ariana did conspire against you, my lord, but only to rescue the druid prisoner.”
Otto’s heart pounded against his ribs, but he didn’t know if his primary emotion was rage or relief at hearing Merek’s confession. “Why would she do that?” he asked, finally, his hands clenching into fists.
“The prisoner was her aunt,” Merek stated calmly. “Ysmay was sister to Ariana’s mother. She was also a healer of some renown.” He paused. “The druids know her as the Rose of Kenmar.”
The Rose of Kenmar.
Otto sat still for a moment, piecing it all together. Ariana had written to her father of her intention to free her aunt, not steal a jewel from their vaults. Any duplicity had been rooted in love. “Why did no one tell me?” His fist slammed down on the table. “Why didyounot tell me?”
Merek reached out for the earthenware bowl of dried herbs and nudged it to safety, his eyes cast down. “If I may say, we feared your anger, my lord.”
His words pierced the fog of emotion swirling in Otto’s mind. He gripped the edge of the table and breathed deeplyto calm himself down. The scent of lavender was a balm, even in the midst of his confusion. “I can’t blame you for that,” he said eventually. “I had more than a hand in creating my own reputation. The irony is, after much deliberation, I had decided to release the druid prisoner. She was an old woman and once my senses cleared, I could see that she bore no blame for my father’s death.” He raised his hands. “If only Ariana had come to me with this.” His sorrow was imbued with bitter regret.
Merek nodded slowly. “It would have been a wise choice.” He risked a glance towards Otto. “That was my advice to her, my lord. To bide her time. But Ariana has always been a spirited young woman.”
“Aye,” Otto sighed. It was Ariana’s spirit that had first attracted him to her; he could hardly berate her for it now. “To be clear, Ariana had no part in the battle Sir Leon brought to our gates?”
“None that I know of, my lord.”
Otto pursed his lips. “I came here only to see if Ariana had mentioned something to you during a consultation. But you have given me much more than I hoped for.”
Merek bowed his head, his long gray hair falling forward and obscuring his face. “I am glad to have been of service.”
He took his leave of the physician and walked through the gathering dusk to his private tower at the back of the castle. The events of the day; the cases at court, his morning walk, even his conversation with Gaius, all seemed to have taken place in the distant past. His mind was full of this latest revelation; Ariana had not been in league with her father after all. She was no traitor to Darkmoor. She had told him no lies.
He stopped short, felled by this mighty realization. Ariana had kept her word and not told him anything that wasn’t true. Was it her fault that Otto had failed to ask the right questions?
With leaden feet, he climbed the spiral staircase to the tower top chamber where they had had their final conversation. For all these weeks, he had imagined Ariana leaving here gladly. The thought had pained him but the alternative, he realized, was much worse. She must have been taken against her will. And he had done nothing about it.
“Damnation.” He slammed his fist into the solid wall then shook his grazed knuckles to rid himself of the pain.
He had done nothing.
He had been too quick to let the poison of Sir Althalos seep under his skin. His uncle was the only traitor to have been given hospitality in Darkmoor. Ariana was guilty of loving her aunt, no more, no less.
The connection he’d felt to his bride had been real.
The natural ease of their conversations, the instinctive trust that had sprung up between them, the sense of a shared past and a future where they would be stronger together, all of that was real. Beneath his burden of worry and regret, Otto began to feel the first glimmers of hope and joy. He hadn’t imagined the sincerity shining in Ariana’s eyes. Hadn’t been intoxicated by fine wine or base lust when he felt that she was the only person he could be his true self with. Their relationship had been burgeoning into something beautiful, before Sir Althalos had laid his cunning plan.
He walked quickly to the tapestried chair and picked up the blanket he’d draped over Ariana’s legs, wanting to warm her chilled limbs even while he doubted her intentions. He pressed it to his nose and inhaled deeply, but no scent of her remained and he flung it away in frustration.
Still, she had been here. She had beenhis. And she could be again. It was not too late, he felt it in his bones. He had vowed just this morning to defend Darkmoor with his last breath. Now he berated himself for not retaliating sooner against Sir Leon ofKenmar. Ariana deserved his protection. He need not fret about how to punish an untrue wife; he needed only to rescue her and bring her home.
