Mother Beauty’s Betrayal

I can feel it deep in my bones, something unsettling about this Grove. Dasys seems kind, but her words are rehearsed, as if she needs them to self-soothe more than to offer leaderly assurance. 

Clerica is brighter, louder, more at one with herself with a bow stowed on her back and the safety of home. 

Everyone here feels sickly sweet, even the guards whose arrows were nocked in my direction. 

I can’t tell if it’s the light encompassing everything or if it’s just the unsettled feeling nestled deep within my innards from Maman’s absence, but the more Dasys spoke, the more information I took in, the more nauseous I felt.

Upon the offering of a bed for the night I felt smothered, as if the closer I got to these people the brighter the light got and it burns my eyes. Luckily, I’d told Elvira I’d be back before first light. I give my excuses and Dasys escorts me back to the border of the Grove. She waves me off, that smile plastered to her lips, I can feel it even with my back turned. 

Once I was out of their sight, I ran. My legs propelled me faster pounding into the marshy ground as if looking for the darkest corners of this town, but no matter where I went, it never left. It lingers, latches, laces into the beads of sweat on my skin.

I can see the Bath house, I know I could close the distance in moments flat but my legs have stopped, a dull burn coursing through them. I know I have to go inside, to face them, but I need a moment to myself. It feels so strange that it is just to myself. 

“Maman, something is very wrong here, I don’t know if it’s just that I miss you…” I run my hands over my face, as if that would bring back the tendrils I’d grown used to, as if the shadow of my hands might block out the light.

“I’m not the only piece of home…” I slip the ring from inside my pocket, finally taking the time to examine it closely. A piece of my heritage, my culture, my home. I run the ring along my finger, just to see how it fits, but there’s a roughness to a small part of the inside. I turn it over in my fingers looking for the discrepancy, it doesn’t take long for my eyes to see it. 

RD 

Those initials, something had told me to use a false name in the Grove, to use Rosalie Delienn, and now here are those very initials. But more than that, Maman and Papa shared them too. My skin turns cold as a memory flickers behind my eyes,

“Rozen my beloved, I need your gaze for a moment.” Papa beckoned Maman closer, his hand outstretched for hers. I watched on curiously but was far too invested in my strawberries to follow. He twirled her until she fell against him and they laughed together, a sound I knew all too well and I found myself laughing along.

Papa showed her something he had tucked away and she grinned wide and looked my way. She whispered something I couldn’t make out but I was too busy squishing the strawberries between my fingers before dipping them into my pile of sugar and devouring them. 

Maman moved quickly to the other side of the kitchen and I caught her grabbing a damp cloth in the corner of my eye. I knew what that meant, I quickly grabbed more strawberries, stuffing them into my cheeks like a sticky sugar coated hamster. She closed in and swiped the tray away and just as quickly clasped both of my small hands in only one of hers and then scrubbed away. 

I squirmed against her squealing in defiance and glee as she dabbed at my cheeks and tickled my face with her hair as it fell around her face.

Once she’d thoroughly removed all trace of my crimes against strawberry kind Papa strode toward me and got down on one knee. He was always so dramatic, he spoke of honour and kindness, of always caring for those around you. Even so young I understood that his heart was far bigger than anyone else’s around me, even Maman’s.

He showed me the item they’d been whispering about, it was a little wooden ring, it looked just like Maman’s wedding band, it even had a little engraving, only this one said,

GD 

As fast as I could snatch up strawberries I snatched up this gift faster. I tried to slip it onto my finger to match Maman’s and Papa’s wedding rings but I was vibrating with so much excitement I kept fumbling. Papa stroked my head, the weight of his hand so heavy and yet so gentle. Maman managed to help me get the ring in place and then she showed our rings side by side. 

“Oh Gwen, yours might be even more special than mine, Papa made it all by himself, I’m beginning to think you might be his favourite girl!” 

How, how did this ring make it all the way here? How had Moze found it and known to return it to me? 

Questions swim through my mind and I’m reeling. That’s when I remember the notes, there had been notes and scraps of paper she’d left with the ring. My eyes scan through them soaking in even more information, I’d learned more in the last couple of days than in however long it had been since I’d left the cocoon.

Marquet took part in the Golden Crusade. 

Marquet was involved in the purge of Daleshamel. 

Marquet had his retainer slay someone in his stead due to his own cowardice.

Marquet took the ring of the person he couldn’t slay, as a reminder.

Marquet took my Maman’s ring.   

Marcelline knows, she knows about what he did. 

Marquet participated in unspeakable evil, and he got to live where people loved him? Where people revered him and called on him in the same breath as they called upon Ghillanen. 

Marquet was Ghillanen’s chosen?! 

The rage builds and simmers and threatens to erupt. I can feel it bubbling beneath the surface, and threatening to boil over but instead I breathe. I take in lungful after lungful of the night’s tainted air. 

Marquet had his retainer slay someone, Marquet had his retainer slay her, Marquet had his retainer slay my Maman. Before my very eyes. 

This Bastien, I need to see him with my own two eyes, I need a way into the Keep.

With this driving thought, my legs move again, I return to the bathhouse and prepare myself to greet Elvira. I’m sure she’ll be useful in gaining access, they all will.