The Woman Inside (28 page)

Roland’s eyes flicked to Allyson’s side, where her shirt hid the bandage.
Something strained flashed in his face, was gone. “What of the man who kicked
you? Was it Eville?”

“It was too dark to see. I suppose it was. Who else could it have been?” Her
tone was less antagonistic, her expression softer.

He stepped closer. “You wounded him?” Definite softness there.

Ceylon’s eyes flicked between the two of them. She tried to hide her smile,
without success. There was something going on there.

“A knife to his thigh. It was the best I could do at that angle.” Allyson
lowered her eyes. The gesture made her seem vulnerable, shy.

Anne, who had remained silent up to then, cleared her throat. The woman was a
born chaperone. “I suppose that will make him easier to track? With luck this
could all be over soon.” She beamed.

Ceylon took anther look at Roland, who stood very close to Allyson. Her slow
smile grew. Perhaps for some, this was just the beginning.

* * * *

The dungeon was dim, lit only by the light of two lanterns. Uric stared at
his mother. Shock at her appearance kept him mute. Never had he seen her without
her paints and powders. It were as if she were another woman; or maybe he was
finally seeing what had been there all along.

Now that she was here she was out of his jurisdiction. The choice to bring
her had been easy--after all that had happened, he still didn’t want to be the
one to kill her.

“Why?” he whispered. The word covered so many questions.

Maude glared at him from behind bars. “Why, what?”

Why didn’t you love me? What did I ever do? He would never say the words.
There were no answers. “Why did you want to kill Ceylon?”

Menace leapt like flame in her eyes. “She’s a grasping bitch who should have
been drowned at birth! She stole you away from me.”

That made no sense. “You never wanted me.”

“She stole my place!” She paced the bleak cell, gestured to the sweating
walls. “Look what she’s reduced me to. I ate on the finest china, dined with
crystal and silver. Now I’m in the dungeon. How dare she!”

His heart hardened. “You could have kept your place, been an honored
mother-in-law of a duchess prized by the queen. You might have had her love,
that of our children--"

Spit landed at the bars of gate. “Deformed brats, most likely. What makes you
think I ever wanted to coddle children of yours? I didn’t even want you.” She
paused to rake him with a cruel stare. “No doubt they’d be as worthless as their
father.”

A man could only take so much. Something inside him died. Whatever hope he’d
ever held, locked deep inside, was dead. So be it.

He took a step closer to the bars ... and smiled. “What a pity for you. Had
your son been worth something he might have saved your neck, woman.” It was a
lie, but right now he enjoyed hurting her. “As it is I guess we’ll just have to
watch as they behead you,” he whispered menacingly.

She gasped. “Uric?” Her voice was scared, child-like, but it was too late.
She’d already killed the part inside him that had been her son.

“Good-bye, witch.” He turned on his heel and strode away.

“U-uric!” her voice rose in a quavering wail, her favorite controlling
tactic.

He kept walking.

“Uric, I love you!”

He closed his ears.

“Uric! Sweetheart, my boy ... don’t leave me,” she sobbed.

The prison door clanged shut behind him.

* * * *

Maude was publicly beheaded three days later. Uric attended the event and
arranged for cremation afterward. His friends stood by him in silent support.
Ceylon stayed home by mutual agreement. Neither she nor Uric thought she would
handle the proceedings well.

Waiting at home was hard, too. Other than arranging for a light meal when the
others returned, there wasn’t much she could do. If it were a funeral it would
have been easier, but this kind of thing was beyond her ken. Uric had to be
grieving, but one wouldn’t know it by his grim face. The others took one look at
his dark expression and gave him plenty of room. As his wife Ceylon didn’t think
she was supposed to do that. She could feel him withdrawing, and it scared
her.

Roland noted her expression and took her aside. “Give him time. This is a
blow.”

She glanced at Uric, who sat staring at the fire. Occasionally he would make
a reply when asked a direct question.

“I wish he would talk to me. It can’t be good to keep it inside.”

“Maybe, but that’s the way men are.” Roland gave her a stern look. “Don’t
pester him, Ceylon. Just be there. If he wants to talk he will. Dragging it out
of him will only hurt you both.”

Head bowed, she nodded. None of what he said made sense, but she’d learned
that men and women were different creatures. If Roland said that Uric needed to
be let alone, well, he would know.

But it was so hard. Many times during the day she would look at him and long
to talk to him. Sometimes she wept, she wasn’t sure for whom. Worst of all was
that Uric didn’t seem to notice her distress. True, she cried alone and washed
her face afterward, but he seemed completely unaware that she was hurting, as if
he were in a fog of his own. Nor did he seek her out the way he had before, for
no other reason than that he enjoyed her company.

She feared she was losing him.

“What is it?” Anne asked softly when she came to visit.

Ceylon swallowed a watery smile. As a woman Anne could see instantly that all
was not well, whereas Uric....”I’m afraid he doesn’t love me anymore,” she
whispered.

Taken aback, Anne said, “Uric? Nonsense! Of course he loves you, dear.”

Ceylon frantically shook her head. “No! He looks at me as if I’m not there
... he--he hasn’t come to bed since--”

“It’s only been two days, dear.” Anne patted her hand in sympathy. “Men are
funny creatures. He will come out of his cave when he feels human again. Be
patient.”

She sounded just like Roland. How could they be so calm? Maybe Anne just
didn’t understand. “I’m afraid he blames me for what happened to his mother.
After all, I’m the reason she was sentenced.”

Anne’s face grew stern. “The only one to blame for Maude’s fate was Maude,
and you know it, child. That woman was evil and no mistake. Mercy was shown her
again and again, but she chose not to change. There wasn’t a woman on this Earth
who had more chances than she did, and each time she failed the test. Now you
can accept that as the truth or continue to blame yourself. For myself, I would
choose to chase joy. Heaven knows you’ve had enough of the other.”

“Chase joy? What is that?”

Anne smiled. “Why, just what it sounds! You wake up each morning and find
something to be joyful about, something to do which makes your day brighter.
Sitting around thinking about the world’s troubles won’t do anyone any good, but
turning yourself into a light will. Once your spirit is refreshed you can shine
on everyone around you. Now think--what would make you happy right now?”

“For Uric to smile at me,” Ceylon said wistfully.

“No, you’re not doing this properly,” Anne chided. “Your happiness must not
depend on someone else. Think of yourself for once. What would you enjoy doing
today that doesn’t involve him?”

“It sounds so selfish,” Ceylon protested. Think of just herself? Don’t worry
over Uric? The priests would faint!

“Recharge yourself and your good spirits will rub off on him. Trust me.”

Well, if it would help Uric....

She was told that Allyson wasn’t home when she went to visit. The butler
kindly directed her to the orphanage.

“Oh, there you are!” Allyson called cheerfully. She plucked a chicken-shaped
mask of stiffened felt off a table and brought it to Ceylon. “Here. You can play
the chicken.”

Ceylon blinked at the mask. “The chicken?”

“Of course.” Allyson wrapped a kerchief around her hair. She had bright pink
circles were painted on her cheeks and brass coins sparkled from chains on her
neck and wrists. The red and yellow wrap she wore was impossibly bright.

“What are you?” Ceylon couldn’t help but ask.

Allyson struck a pose. “Why, the lovely gypsy Lomita, of course.”

Ceylon grinned. “Of course.” She put on the mask and stood in front of the
children, feeling foolish.

A clap of Allyson’s hands brought their instant attention. “All right,
children! Let’s teach Lady Shardsdale here how to be a chicken.” She grinned at
Ceylon, made a flipper motion with her hand. “Go ahead. Be a chicken.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. Fortunately, the mask hid it. Feeling foolish,
Ceylon bent her arms and flapped them a bit as she said uncertainly, “Bock,
bock.”

The children giggled.

“Tsk.” Allyson shook her head, hands on hips. “You can do better than that,
my lady.” She gestured enthusiastically to the children. “Everyone, now! Don’t
be shy. Let’s all help be a chicken. Bock, Bock!”

Delighted, the children called, “Cluck, Cluck, Bock!”

Ceylon giggled.

“Louder now! You too, my lady.”

This time Ceylon joined in. “Cluck, Bock, Cock-a-doodle-do!”

“Let’s really hear it now,” Allyson enthused.

”Cock-a-bock-a-doodle-do!” they all yelled. Laugher broke out all over the
room.

“And that,” Allyson said, flushed and happy, “is how we be a chicken.”

“Bock!” Ceylon clucked in affirmation. The room dissolved in giggles
again.

Playing with the children was great fun. Breathless and flushed, Ceylon
promised the children that she’d come back some time with Lady Riverdell. Many
of the children hugged Allyson as she left.

“You’re so good with them,” Ceylon said as they rode in the carriage to a tea
shop. “It’s clear that they love you.”

Allyson waved her hand. “From a distance,” she said with a half-smile.
“Proximity would soon cure them of that.”

“Hardly. I like you.”

The smile turned wry. “You have a very kind heart. I know my faults, Ceylon.
I am not lovable.”

Dark memories clouded Ceylon’s vision. “I thought the same, once.”

“Come, now! There’s no reason for us both to be gloomy,” Allyson said firmly.
“What will you have at the tea shop? They are famous for their confections, you
know. And their steamed buns ... ah, sweet memories.”

The next half hour passed companionably. It took at least that long for
Ceylon to work up the courage to ask, “So, what is between you and Roland? You
seemed very caught up in each other the other day.”

Allyson raised her brows. “I hate to disappoint your romantic soul, but
there’s nothing of interest there. He’s very ... dull. I want someone with more
drama.”

Ceylon’s brows drew together. “Roland, dull?”

A shrug summed up Allyson’s feelings. “To each their own. I’m still dreaming
of my tropical island getaway.” She winked. “And perhaps a brawny sea captain to
go with it.”

“In that case you should wait for Raven to grow up. He’s determined to own
his own ship.” She raised her teacup in salute as Allyson laughed.

Their relationship was an odd one. Ceylon absolutely trusted Allyson, knew
some of her secrets, but there were a great many things that still remained a
mystery. It was rare that Allyson would speak of matters of the heart. Whenever
the subject came up she usually stepped around the issue. Maybe something was
going on between her and Roland--Ceylon had eyes--but she wouldn’t know what
until Allyson or someone else chose to say something. Ceylon refused to pry.

She wondered, though. Odd how Uric never mentioned the subject of Roland and
Allyson. Perhaps he was much as she was; willing to let others keep their
secrets unless it directly involved them.

Maybe she would hear something at court. They hadn’t been in the city long
and due to the situation with Eville she hadn’t gotten out much. Perhaps she
should accept some of the invitations that kept arriving for tea? True, she
barely knew some of those people, but one should get to know one’s peers.
Playing the hermit was getting dull.

Anne had been right; it was good to get out.

They had just finished their tea and stepped out on the curb when someone
across the street shouted, “Hear ye, hear ye! Be the first to get the news.” A
youth waved a paper in the air. The satchel he carried bulged with rolled
papers, some of which poked out of the top. “The king is alive!”

Allyson and Ceylon exchanged startled looks.

“What hoax is this?” Ceylon took a step closer to the newsboy, forgetful in
that moment of the need for caution. Equally arrested by the news, her guards
also forgot.

One second was all it took.

* * * *

Ceylon groaned and opened her eyes. She was in a stone walled room; perhaps a
buttery? There were musty bins along the walls, empty crates in the corners. It
was cold. Water dripped somewhere nearby, in perfect time to the throb of her
skull. She remembered a blinding flash of light and smoke, then nothing. Had
Eville finally captured her?

A groan made her look left. Allyson was lying on her back, one hand flung
over her stomach. By the dull look in her blinking eyes she felt as awful as
Ceylon.

“What happened?” Allyson rasped. She propped herself into a sitting position,
wincing as she went. “This blasted floor is frigid.”

“I don’t know. I think Eville has us. Are you hurt?”

“Stiff. Sore from lying on this brick floor. Plus I think some rotten buzzard
simply dropped me.” She gingerly felt the back of her head. Her hand came away
sticky.

Nausea gripped Ceylon. “How badly are you hurt?”

Allyson took a sharp look at Ceylon. “I’ll live. Don’t faint on me.”

“I never faint!” Ceylon protested, then checked at Allyson’s speaking look.
“Very well, I never faint in an emergency.” Except for that one time with Raven
... but really, she had been pregnant.