“Ceridwen is better than us all, but she has a badly broken wrist. Victoria mended some of the other hurts and bruises, but her bone will need to heal on its own.”
Rhiannon closed her eyes, letting her sister’s pain wash over her.
“Is anyone else hurt?”
“No. Patches and Boleyn are safe and sound, and I… I’m fine. You saved me. You saved everyone.”
As Prudence rinsed the washcloth and brought it back to Rhiannon’s face, she could see it colored faintly with her blood. Apparently, Prudence had the same thought.
“You’re very badly hurt.”
“Not that bad, Prudence. And it all worked out. Didn’t it? And now I am in bed, and earlier you were here with me and I watched you sleep. You were dreaming.”
Pru started, then lowered her eyes.
“I was. A townhouse in New York, and I got to jog in the mornings in Central Park. And feed the ducks and buy pretzels from a curmudgeonly guy in a Mets hat. And in my dream, you never get hurt.”
There was a gulp, then a sob, and Rhiannon was enveloped in those willowy arms, Prudence crying in earnest on her chest.
This time moving her hands was not as difficult, and she awkwardly patted Prudence on her back, not having full control of her movements. Still, it felt better? And did she really care when Prudence was here, weeping over her, holding her?
Well, some things she did care about. She gave Prudence another clumsy pat, her arms dropping back to the sheets. Someone had changed them. They felt like linen this time, and it could only mean she had been out of it for long enough for the change to have been necessary. Which meant she had left Prudence for long enough without an explanation.
“When I said I killed her,” She swallowed, gulped, her throat almost closing around the words, then coughed and tried to push through even if Prudence’s face was ashen once again.
“Rhiannon—”
“No, no, let me speak. How many days has it been, anyway? A long wait for the truth for you.”
“Five days, but Lachlan told me. All of us. I know you didn’t do it. It was suicide.”
Rhiannon shook her head and saw stars. Okay, she should probably keep her movements to the bare minimum for the foreseeable future.
“I did it, Prudence. Maybe not with my own two hands. But she left a letter… She blamed me. ‘My blood is on your soul, on your callousness and your neglect, Rhiannon.’ You see, I didn’t love her enough?—”
“Oh, what fucking bullshit!”
Prudence’s outburst made Rhiannon laugh, which in turns made her cough again. When it finally subsided, she licked her lips. She needed to drink and she needed to sleep. Maybe forever. But above all, she needed to speak.
“She left everything behind to be with me. And then a few years later we both realized I had been too young and hotheaded and just…stupid. So damn stupid. And I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She wanted to be happy.”
Rhiannon took a deep breath. This conversation felt just as painful as unleashing her storm.
“She left her husband for me…to be happy. That was all she wanted. Goddess knows I tried. I tried so hard. Years of couples therapy. Years of trying to do everything to be the person who could give her the world and I failed, only to find her in the bloody bathtub. Years of closing off my magic because she was so afraid of it, after what she saw it do to Fowler. I am sorry for that, you know.” She threw Prudence a sideways glance only to find determination and sternness on those beautiful features.
“I don’t care about that, Rhiannon. I only care that you truly believe that you are somehow responsible for the death of a weak-willed, evil woman who took advantage of you at eighteen, manipulated you through your entire marriage, made you believe you were somehow defective and your power was a dirty secret to be locked away, and worse, she made you genuinely think you were responsible for her happiness. You weren’t, you know. Nobody ever is. You weren’t her therapist, her doctor, her nurse. You were her wife. From all you’ve told me, you were faithful and loyal. You cared about her enough to leave everything behind and sacrifice whole parts of yourself to her whims. She was unhappy? Boo fucking hoo.”
Rhiannon smiled and then, unable to hold back, laughed even if it made her dizzy.
“But tell me how you really feel, Prudence.”
“How I really feel? I feel that everyone around you your entire life let you down and yet made you believe that you were the one to blame. Your wife, your family, my father.”
Rhiannon closed her eyes for a second, Prudence’s words suddenly too much. Her mother’s face swam up again in her memory, and she gritted her teeth and willed it away. It was a story for another time, a time when she’d hopefully have more strength to confess to her biggest sin yet.
Prudence frowned and then looked away from Rhiannon before speaking.
“He’s been coming over every day, trying to excuse the things he has done, the things that have transpired. He knew it was an accident, what happened between the two of you. He said so himself. Did he blame you and use that to hate you and the Crowharts? Sure. But in these past days, it feels like I am meeting a brand-new person who has been my father all along, and I can’t say I am enjoying the experience. Bigoted, callous, governed by greed and fear. And wrapped in sanctimony.”
