“Then why have you come?”
Ophelia looked at her mother. It was so difficult to keep the rage at bay, and, in fact, she couldn’t quite manage it. Sighing sharply, she averted her gaze.
“I never thought I would see you again,” she said. “I washopingI would never see you again, but here we are because I, once again, must confront Grandfather’s cruelty. I do not even know why I am speaking with you. He is the one I must speak with.”
Randa frowned. “What cruelty do you speak of?”
Ophelia looked at her then. “I am certain you know,” she said. “You grew up with him. He isyourfather. You know what he is capable of.”
Randa shook her head. “Lia, I genuinely have no idea what you are speaking of,” she said. “Can you please tell me?”
Ophelia’s gaze lingered on her mother a moment before she answered. “You should know that the best thing you, and Grandfather, could have ever done for me is the betrothal to Creston,” she said. “A more wonderful man does not exist. He is kind and attentive, thoughtful and wise. He is everything a man should be but seldom is. I suppose I should thank Grandfather for that, at least.”
Randa wasn’t any clearer on why her daughter had come to Axen. “Then if he is so wonderful, why have you left him?”
“Because Grandfather is trying to destroy him.”
“Destroy who?”
It wasn’t Randa who replied, but a male voice coming out of the darkness. Ophelia and Randa turned to see Oscar enteringthe hall. Their voices, in the emptiness of the great hall, had carried. He’d heard the last few exchanges of their conversation perfectly.
“Father,” Randa said quickly, standing up to greet him because that was what he expected of her, always. “Look who has come—Lia is here.”
Oscar’s dark gaze moved to his granddaughter, who was still sitting. “I’ve been told,” he said. “A servant roused me from my bed to tell me she had come and I thought I would see for myself. Well? Why are you here, Lia?”
That was it, no greeting beyond a demand for answers, and Ophelia felt the familiar fear and hatred of the man creeping into her veins. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure that this had been a good idea. She wasn’t entirely confident in her decision to come to Axen. Somehow, Oscar looked taller and bigger than she remembered. More intimidating.
Courage!she told herself.
She was here.
And she was going to face him.
“I’ve come to tell you that Blackchurch knows about your forged missive from Louis of France,” she nearly blurted, coming straight to the point because she didn’t have the patience for a drawn-out explanation. “They know you mean to destroy them. I’ve come to tell you that I will not permit it.”
Oscar’s smug, suspicious expression shifted into one of disbelief. It was an unusual expression for him, one that suggested he’d genuinely been caught off guard by Ophelia’s statement.
“What…?” he sputtered. “What is this nonsense you spout?”
Ophelia had never known her grandfather to be anything other than haughty and calm. It was a distinct pleasure to see that she’d unbalanced him, which made her feel a little braver about the situation.
“It is not nonsense and you know it,” she said. “You were sending a missive to Henry that was allegedly from Louis of France, thanking Blackchurch for their help in Louis’ Gascon war. You knew what Henry would do when he read such a thing. You knew he would destroy Blackchurch, and that is what you intended.”
Oscar was still in a state of shock, struggling with his composure. “This… this is madness,” he said. “Where did you hear this?”
He was being defensive, a sure admission of guilt as far as Ophelia was concerned. “St. Denis has the missive,” she said. “It was brought to him. The messenger who possessed it said that the missive had come from the Earl of Sidbury.Youforged a dispatch from the French king in an attempt to discredit Blackchurch. They are certain it has something to do with the pirate attack on Sidmouth, so in some way, you are trying to exact revenge on those pirates by destroying Blackchurch. Do you deny this?”
Oscar was still off guard, still trying to think clearly in the situation. “Did your husband send you here?” he asked, avoiding her question. “Is that why you have come? To ask questions because he is too much of a coward to do so?”
Ophelia shook her head. “He did not tell me to come,” she said. “I came of my own accord because I am ashamed. Ashamed I am related to someone as underhanded as you. Tell me something, Oscar—whydo you think destroying Blackchurch is going to give you a sense of satisfaction against the pirate attack? Is it because you think you are God and you want to show those pirates how badly you can hurt them if you want to? Or is it because you’re the spiteful, malicious bastard you’ve always been and you cannot stand when someone is stronger than you in every way? Which is it?”
Perhaps her last words to him were a little too much. A little too bold. She’d spat them out faster than she could actually think about what she was saying because, for once in her life, she was speaking her mind. She was standing up to him and it felt glorious. But once the words had left her lips, Ophelia could see the expression of disbelief on Oscar’s face turn to rage. A storm was brewing behind his dark eyes as he reached out, grabbing Randa by the arm.
“Get out,” he spat at her. “Get out now.”
Randa nearly tripped over the bench as he yanked on her. As fearful as she was of her father, she was more fearful of his anger being directed toward her daughter at the moment. Ophelia had revealed the reason for her visit with blunt force, and now it was out in the open. Oscar had been hammered with it.
And so had Randa.
