The Seventh Daughter (21 page)

Tania stared at her sister, too surprised even to draw breath.

Rathina's once beautiful face was smeared with grime and shadowed with bruises; her flawless skin was an unhealthy skull white, her radiant black hair tangled and lank. But it was in her eyes that Tania saw the most harrowing damage. Rathina had the eyes of someone who had stared into an abyss of horror and whose mind had been seared by what she had seen there.

“A warm welcoming would be too much to ask,” Rathina said, her voice low and weary. “But I would speak with you.”

Tania came to her senses. “I don't have anything to say to you,” she said, her voice trembling. “Go. Go now, before—”

Tania heard a movement behind her. “No, Rathina,” Eden said, her voice soft but compelling. “Do not go. Enter, I bid you. There is much we would discuss with you.”

She reached out, her open hand beckoning. Rathina grimaced and struggled briefly as she was pulled forward by Eden's power, her arms pinned to her sides, her legs stiff, feet dangling. Tania stepped aside as Rathina was drawn into the pavilion. The other princesses were on their feet now, staring at their sister as Eden compelled her to move to the middle of the tent and lifted her so that she hung like a puppet in the air.

“How did you get past the sentinels?” Cordelia demanded. “What sorcerous wiles did you use?”

“I used no sorcery,” Rathina said, her voice strained. “You taught me how to move unseen, Cordelia. Do you not remember our pilgrimages into the forest to watch the deer and the wild boar? I would be a poor scholar not to have remembered the wood-skills you passed on.”

Zara had her hands over her mouth, her eyes haunted as she looked up at her sister. “How
could
you?” she murmured. “How could you have done those terrible things?”

Sancha made a move forward, her face dark with hatred. Hopie stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“You have done much harm, sister,” Hopie said to Rathina. “Do you come here to atone or to triumph over us?” Her dark eyes narrowed. “Or are you come as an emissary from the Sorcerer, sent to beguile us with treacherous offers?”

“None of those things,” Rathina said. “I come to beg your mercy.”

Sancha gave a snarl. “Mercy?” she spat. “You have unleashed desolation on our land; you have schemed to break us utterly. How many are dead at your hands? With how much innocent blood is your soul stained? You will get no mercy here. Were it in my power, you would be blasted to dust and scattered to the four winds for your wickedness.”

“Peace, Sancha,” said Eden.

Sancha turned on her, eyes blazing. “Peace? It is because of her that my Library was burned. It is because of her that our Soul Books are turned to ash.” Her voice rose. “
Our Soul Books are destroyed
!”

Hopie put her arms around Sancha and drew her away, stifling the aching sobs that were heaving up from Sancha's chest.

Tania stared at Rathina. Pain showed in her sister's eyes. But was it real pain, or was it pretense?

Eden made a small movement of her fingers and Rathina came down to the ground. “You already have my mercy, sister,” Eden said gently. “You would know were it otherwise.”

Rathina fell to her knees. “I never was an ally of the Sorcerer King,” she cried. “I beg you to believe that if you believe nothing else.”

“I saw you in the Great Hall!” Tania said, her voice shaking. “I saw you sitting next to him when Lady Gaidheal was murdered. You didn't care about any of those people he was hurting.”

“
How
did you see?” she asked. She glanced at Eden. “A glamour!” she said. “You used a glamour to
pass unseen.” Her eyes turned pleadingly to Tania. “Then you saw how the Sorcerer abused and tormented me. He only allowed me to live for his own amusement, to see how his actions wounded me. Had I fought against him, he would have killed me.”

“And were you not better off dead than at his side upon our mother's throne?” Cordelia said. “I would have died a thousand times before I would have given aid to that creature.”

“Yes,” Rathina murmured. “I know that you would.” She looked around at her sisters. “Do you think I do not know how you hate me? Yet with all that, none of you can hate me as much as I hate myself. You do not know what it is to be torn asunder, to be split in twain by desire and longing and desperation. To be tortured by a love that burns like a fire in your heart. You cannot know!”

Tania felt pity welling inside her. She had experienced firsthand the awesome powers of Gabriel Drake; she knew what it was like to stand stripped of all willpower and all control under the force of those deadly silver eyes. And although Drake had not put an enchantment on Rathina, her overwhelming love for the wicked Faerie lord was as powerful as any spell.

Tania walked toward Rathina and knelt in front of her. Rathina lowered her head, her shoulders shaking. “Look at me,” Tania said. Reluctantly, Rathina raised her eyes. “Do you still love Gabriel?”

“No.” Rathina's voice was only just above a whisper.

“Tell the truth.”

Rathina sobbed. “Yes.” She reached out for Tania. “Yes, I do still love him. For pity's sake, protect me from myself!” she cried. “Keep me from him till this madness passes!”

Tania put her arms around Rathina and let her bury her head in her shoulder. For a while she knelt there, stroking her sister's tangled hair while the misery and agony and horror came pouring out of Rathina's quivering body. Tania was torn by her sister's return; she didn't know what to think about it. Even before Rathina had brought down all this evil upon them, Tania had been given good reason to hate and distrust Rathina. But she couldn't forget either that this wretched woman had once been her closest friend in all of Faerie.

She looked around at her sisters. Sancha's face was stony with hatred. Cordelia looked angry and confused. Zara was weeping. Hopie's expression was uncertain, as though she was caught between compassion and despair. Only Eden's face showed a glimmer of understanding. Tania thought she knew why: Eden had known pain and anguish down the years; she knew what it was to suffer for your deeds.

“What would you have us do, Rathina?” Eden asked.

Rathina lifted her tear-streaked face. “Put an end to my misery,” she said, choking. “Free me from Lord Drake, that is all I ask.”

“Only you have the power to do that,” Hopie said. “Speak again.”

“I cannot live with the horror of what I have done,” Rathina said. “I would fight any foe if I were assured that death would be my reward. Oblivion is all I seek.”

“Granted gladly!” said Sancha. “And that by mine own hand had I a bright blade to do the deed.”

“No,” Zara murmured. “Look at her, Sancha—she is broken. What would killing her avail?”

“What are our choices?” Cordelia asked, looking at her sisters. “To imprison her until the battle is lost or won? To send her under escort to Ravensare? Eden? Do you have the power to banish her to some faraway place where she can do no more harm?”

“I do not,” Eden said. “And I would not use it if I had.” She turned to her kneeling sister. “Rathina? Would you be as one with us on the morrow? Would you fight at our side?”

“No!” Sancha shouted. “You would forgive and forget? Never!”

“Sancha is right,” Cordelia said. “She cannot be trusted. We have no proof that she has not come here on some dark errand from the Sorcerer. This could all be a sham.”

“It is not,” Rathina said. “You have my heart's word on that.”

“How did you get away from the Sorcerer?” Tania asked.

“He is preoccupied with tomorrow's battle plans,” Rathina replied. “He was busy with his captains—with Gabriel Drake and with other fell leaders. I made a
pretense of going to my bed. I slipped by the guards as soon as I could.” She lifted her head and held Tania's gaze. “I am not lying to you,” she said.

Hopie turned to Eden. “Why should we trust her to ride with us against Lyonesse on the morn? Is that not madness?”

“Short of utter madness, I would hope,” Eden said. “See, all around us the Power of Seven awakes and thrives. Would you not have that power with you when you ride against the Sorcerer King tomorrow?”

Tania looked to where Eden was gesturing. The carpet of fresh young grass and of blossoming daisies and buttercups had spread all around the tent now, and the flowers and slender blades of grass were even pushing up through the weave of the rugs so that everywhere the ground was patched with spreading pools of green and yellow and white.

“Is this the Power of Seven?” Cordelia asked. “The power of life in the midst of death? It is glorious and gladdening to the heart, but will it aid us in battle?”

“I do not know,” Eden said. “But when our mother spoke to me of it, I believe she had hopes that Rathina would come to us. Would you turn her away or fetter her—or would you have her ride with us into battle and thus win the day?”

“Eden is right,” said a subdued voice. It was Sancha. Everyone turned to look at her. “The victory of new life over the crawling death of the Sorcerer King is a great and a glad thing. It will put heart into our army and will cause dismay to our enemy. We
must use it if we can.” She stood up and walked to where Rathina was kneeling. “Get up,” she said.

Rathina climbed to her feet, her head bowed so she did not have to look at Sancha.

“Lift your head!” Sancha commanded. Rathina raised her chin and looked into Sancha's face. “Hear me well, sister,” said Sancha. “You do not know what harm you have done.”

“I do know,” Rathina murmured. “And I repent it.”

“No!” Sancha spat. “Believe me, you do
not
know how deep the wounds will be ere all is done.” She took a breath and continued. “I do not trust you, Rathina, but without you the Power of Seven cannot be. You will ride with us against the evil of Lyonesse when the sun rises tomorrow. But if you seek to betray us or to thwart us or to do us harm, know this.” Her voice became deadly cold. “I will strike you down, sister. Even though it be the doom of my own soul, I will end you!”

A chill ran up Tania's spine. She had no doubts that Sancha would prove true to her threat.

“So be it,” Eden said. “It is late and we should be abed.”

“Where will Rathina sleep?” Hopie asked. “And who will stand guard over her?”

“She will sleep in my tent,” said Zara. “And none shall watch her. If she is gone in the morning, then we will know her heart is untrue.”

“Thank you,” Rathina murmured. “I will not fail you.”

“See that you do not,” said Hopie.

Rathina looked at Tania and the misery in her eyes was almost too much to bear. Tania held her gaze for a few moments, then Rathina looked away.

Tania didn't want to think of the nightmares that must be churning inside her sister's head. She just hoped that with her sisters around her Rathina would find the strength to resist her blind devotion to Gabriel Drake. If not…

If not, then Rathina might prove to be the deadliest danger of all.

 

Tania awoke from a fretful half-sleep. Thoughts of Rathina were tumbling through her mind, preventing her from resting properly. Could Rathina be trusted or would she betray them again?
And even if she's genuinely sorry and she really wants to put things right, could I ever really trust her again?
It was an impossible question, and deep in her heart, all that Tania really wanted was for the seven of them to be together as if all this evil had never happened. And she knew that could never be.

The candles in her tent had burned low, but by the silence that surrounded her, Tania could tell that it was still nighttime. She lay for a while staring up at the stooping roof of the tent. She was less scared of the coming battle than she had expected. It was almost as if the very idea of putting on her armor and charging into an army of Gray Knights was so outlandish that her brain refused to accept the reality of it. Her mind
was behaving as if this was all a dream—as if she'd wake up in the morning in her own bed in North London and find that these weeks as Princess Tania of Faerie were just an elaborate fantasy.

At least that was preferable to the alternative: that her sisters would find her in the morning whimpering with fright and totally incapable of doing anything.

She got up and poured herself a cup of water. Faerie water. Thirst quenching and delicious. She noticed a pricking under her bare feet. Blades of bright green grass had thrust up through the carpeting and the ground was studded all over with flowers. And more growing things had climbed the walls of the tent: long thin tendrils of leafy greenery from which hung star-shaped flowers with pink and white petals. It seemed that the Power of Seven was still gaining in strength. At the very least that must mean that Rathina was still with them—for good or for bad.

Tania pushed through the tent flap and stepped out into the night. The camp was quiet and still under the floating half-moon. A little way off she could hear the movements and sounds of the horses in their paddock, and through the ranks of tents she saw guards standing watch. She could not have said why, but something led her over the lush flower-strewn grass toward Sancha's tent. She found her sister sitting on a grassy hillock outside the billowing canvas, her shoulders hunched, her eyes staring sleeplessly down the long slope of the heath to where the flickering red lights of the palace pierced the blackness.

Tania sat at her side. “Can't sleep?”

“No.”

“Me neither.” She sighed. “My brain won't stop.”

There was a pause, then Sancha's head turned, her eyes hidden in black shadow under her brow. “I would not speak of my thoughts,” she murmured. “I cannot speak of them.”

“Why not?” Tania urged. She saw shining tears pouring down Sancha's cheeks. “Sancha, what's wrong?”