I have tried to reason with Garrett, but that same childish, rebellious spirit still resides in my middle child. He does not seem to care that the fate of the whole country hangs on his obedience to me. How could I have raised such a one? I know when the time comes for Rian, he will not disappoint me. He will be ready to take over all of Kearnley when my life comes to its end.
Father’s last entry was dated a week before his death. I tossed this last journal into the bag with the rest. Garrett was being tortured while he had written this. It disgusted me to think that his mind had become so twisted that he could rationalize the murder and torture of his three oldest sons as a means of advancing his obsession of ruling the whole country. I would be glad to wipe out the evidence of this madness.
I dragged the bag out the door to the family garden. I lit the wood and tender that was already laid in the fire pit there. I remembered times when my family sat around the fire laughing and talking while we roasted bits of food. It had not been necessary for us to cook our own meals. We did it as a way to spend time together.
I had never had any clue of the things going on in my father’s head then. I felt all innocence was gone after reading his diaries. Every childhood memory was now tainted by my new-found knowledge.
I took a moment to watch the sun set as I tried to center my thoughts. God had painted the sky in dark shades of red and purple. It reminded me that He had a hand in everything. He had not caused my father to do the things he had done, but He had controlled the outcome.
For whatever reason Dunbar was gone while Garrett and I had been spared. I had learned to let go of the guilt of being allowed to live when my oldest brother had met a different fate. I thanked God once again for His mercy.
The fire was blazing now. I pulled a journal from the top of the bag. There was a moment of hesitation at destroying my father’s final words. I had no doubt that no one else should ever be allowed to read them. How could I guarantee that some future generation would not find these journals if I held on to them? There was an unexpected release of anxiety after I tossed the book in and watched the pages curl and turn black.
“What are you doing? Why are you burning Father’s things?”
I had not heard Rian’s approach. He stood there with his hands gripping the top of his head staring at the book that was now embers. The orange light danced across the side of his face enough for me to see the deep sadness reflected there.
His gaze shifted to the bag at my feet and then up to me. “What is in the bag?”
“Only more journals.”
“They do not belong to you. Give them to me if you do not want them.”
“Rian, I know you will not understand this, but I can promise you that the words written in these journals are not something you would want anyone else to read. They have to be destroyed.”
“What if I want to read them?”
“I love you too much to ever allow that happen.”
I could see the desperation in his face. I wanted so much to make him understand. Nothing I said would make this all right. He was ten. Even if I revealed the evil these books contained, he would not see the danger they possessed. He turned and ran back into the castle.
The relief I had felt before had been replaced by concern over how much everything that happened this past year had affected my brother. In some ways my father had inflicted more injury to Rian than he had the rest of us without having ever laid a hand on him.
I continued burning one book after another while I tried to think of ways to pull all of us out of the depression Father’s actions had caused. Things just had to get better.
I was more than halfway through the bag when Gwen stepped into the circle of light surrounding the crackling fire. She had been avoiding me for months, so why was she here now? I had a feeling she would rather be anywhere else.
I studied her features in the firelight, drinking them in. Even after all that had happened, I had to fight the urge to draw her into my arms. Would she pull away from me if I did?
“I went in to check on your mother just now. Rian was with her. He is pretty upset, so she sent me out here to talk to you.”
I threw another book on the fire, sending yellow sparks skyward. “I am sorry to have upset Rian. I know he does not understand why I am doing this. It is for his own good, for the good of my whole family really.”
“Why is it necessary to burn your father’s things? Maybe if you explain it to me, I will be able to help him understand. For some reason he has grown rather close to me since I have been giving him archery lessons.”
“I am truly grateful to you for that. Rian needs to feel that someone is on his side. I am glad that he has you.” I wanted to tell her that I needed her as well.
I took a deep breath to try and dislodge my desire. “My father was an evil man. He left the proof of that fact in these journals. It would bring more hurt and shame to my family than what Rian is feeling at this moment if he knew what these books contain.”
She took a small step in my direction and I thought for a moment she might reach out to touch me but that did not happen. “I see you have read them. That must have been hard. I am sorry for everything this family has had to go through. I wish there was something I could do.”
Marry me. With you by my side, I can get over anything. But of course, I could not say this to her. “I saved some of the first ones for Rian, but he ran off before I thought to tell him. Father was not so bad in the beginning. It is true that he only wanted to marry Mother to gain the throne, and it was always his dream, or maybe I should say his obsession, to rule the whole country. Marrying her had been the first step, but according to his own words he had unexpectedly fallen in love with her. That is a good thing, I guess.”
“No one who ever met your parents would deny that they loved each other deeply.” She had stepped closer to me until we were standing almost shoulder to shoulder facing the fire. Her rose scented perfume wafted in and out, alternated by the scent of charred wood and paper.
“Father’s plan to take control of the country had become more and more sinister over the years. He wrote everything down. His struggle over whether or not to kill off his sons was particularly nauseating. In the end he planned for Rian to be the one to rule after he was gone. That is why Rian was so privy to everything he did. He was trying to mold Rian into his image. I hope you understand why I did not want him to read those journals.”
She placed her hand over her stomach and took in a deep breath. “I know you do not need my approval, but you were right to destroy them. Rian is angry now, but he will probably be more able to handle these details as an adult.”
“Do you think I should wait until he is older to give him the ones I have saved?”
“If you give them to him now without telling him why you burned the rest, I believe it will only cause more resentment.”
Somehow we were now standing very close, facing each other. “Gwen, I do crave your approval. I appreciate you coming out here to talk to me. Sometimes it feels as if I do not have a friend left in this world. When you first came here, you agreed to be my friend. Do you think we could ever be that way again?”
“I wish I could say yes, but I do not know how that can be. Just know that I am trying. You may end up with Juliane. If that should happen, I would not want to come between you. I believe once you are married, you should do whatever it takes to make it work.”
“I cannot begin to imagine being married to that woman. I have searched every law looking for a way out of this. You know that child does not belong to me.” My heart sank as she looked down at my chest, breaking eye contact.
I lifted her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Please say that you believe me.”
“I have never known you to lie to me, but what chance do you have of proving he is not yours when he was born nine months from the day you admitted to spending time with her. And . . .”
“And, what?”
“Have you seen him?”
I was not obligated to this child, but still I felt guilt at the fact that he was two weeks old and I had yet to look upon him. “No, I have not.”
She placed her hand on my upper arm and I felt it even through the layers of clothing. “Reagan, he looks just like you.”
It felt as if I had swallowed a rock. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. It sounded as if Gwen was no longer sure of my innocence. How would I convince a jury panel?
I looked up when she grabbed my other arm. “Come to the west wing after breakfast in the morning to see for yourself. You do not have to go in to where Juliane is. I will bring the babe to you.” Her voice was colored with excitement that I did not understand.
“How would you explain to his mother that he should make the trip down the hall with you?”
“Trust me, she will never miss him.”
“What about her father? I do not particularly want to see him either.”
“I have not seen Angus Sawyer in the west tower since before the baby was born. Maybe he comes while I am with your mother, but he will not be there in the morning.”
As Gwen had suggested, I made my way up the stairs in the west tower right after breakfast the next day. If for no other reason, it was to see her again. Being close to her the night before had been a salve to my wounded spirit. It felt as if I almost had my friend back. I still longed for more, but friendship was better than nothing.
She was standing next to the window in the landing at the top of the stairs with the baby in her arms smiling and cooing at him. This image would forever burn in my memory. What would it be like to see her holding our own child in her arms? For the first time I realized I had lost more than just a future with Gwen. I had always pictured me and her together, but until this moment I had never thought ahead to the children we might have had.
Besides my desire to spend time with Gwen, I had come here to get a glimpse of the baby she claimed looked like me. I had never intended to hold him. I was not given much of a choice when she thrust him toward me.
The last baby I had held had been Rian. I had been eleven years old then. Rian’s hair had been a pale blond, but he had the same light brown eyes as this child—the same as mine. What kind of witchery had this woman and her father performed to turn out a child with my features?
“He is going to be a smart one. You can see the intelligence in his eyes. Look at how he is studying your face.” There was so much pride in Gwen’s voice, as if she really was the mother of this babe.
“Does he have a name?”
“No. Juliane has not bonded well with the baby. I have done everything I know to do, but she will not put forth the effort. I am beginning to worry. I may have to find a wet nurse for him. She will not even pick him up to feed him if I am not here to place him in her arms. I have never seen anything like it.”
She stood there combing her fingers through his dark hair. I could see how much she cared for him and that worried me. I did not want her to suffer more hurt because of this situation.
Having recently gone through Gilvary’s laws, I knew there were several involving child neglect. Could I refuse to marry Juliane because of this? If so, what would happen to the baby? Regardless of the fact that he did indeed look like me, I knew he was not my child. I would have to talk this over with my advisors later.
I heard a faint cough from down the hall reminding me that we were not alone. I did not want Juliane to catch me holding her baby. She could use it against me later. My visit could reflect guilt. I handed the baby back to Gwen and left. I was not sorry for going there, but it left me more unsettled than before.