‘Aline’s already inheriting a rather shabby castle, sweetheart,’ I said, kneeling by the candle on the rug. ‘I really can’t have you going around setting what’s left of it on fire.’
‘Leave it,’ she said. ‘Let me burn. Let the flames drive away the madness inside me. If you come closer, you may have to kill me yourself.’
Wax dripped on my hand as I picked up the candle, but I ignored it. ‘If Kest were here, he’d tell you that burning is considered to be the most painful way of dying.’
‘I told you, stay away.’
The tiny wick didn’t do much to light the room, but I could see Valiana sitting up in the bed, her back against the headboard, cloaked in shadow.
‘Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Well, if fire is the most painful way to die, then what’s the least painful?” Luckily for you, I’ve given this a great deal of thought and I believe the answer is: in your sleep, at a ripe old age, surrounded by those who love you best.’ I walked to the bed. ‘And that, Valiana val Mond, is the only death I will grant you.’
Strands of sweat-dampened hair were sticking to her face and tears tracked misery down her cheeks. She was naked, which made me uncomfortable, and filled with sorrow and self-hatred, which was infinitely worse. She pulled the sheet up as I approached. ‘I went mad, Falcio – I thought I could control it, but the adoracia was too strong for me.’
‘Nothing is too strong for you,’ I said, too quickly.
Sometimes I say these things, and I swear that in my own head they make perfect sense and should, if the world functioned in any sort of logical way, make the people I care about feel better. Only they don’t; somehow, I just make things worse. In Valiana’s case, that manifested as her covering her eyes, her fingers curling into her dark hair, and sobbing.
I set the candle down on the flat corner-post of the bed and sat down, not too close, for fear of . . . well, making things worse again. Despite my general ineptitude in all matters pertaining to women, I was about to try consoling her again when the sound of a commotion outside reached us. My hand went to my rapier: at least if we were being attacked I’d be of some use.
The noise went away, and a moment later we heard a quiet knock at the door.
It’s odd to say that you can recognise a knock when most people do it pretty much the same way, but I knew this one instantly.
‘Make them go away, whoever it is,’ Valiana sobbed.
‘It’s Ethalia.’
Valiana looked at me. I knew she didn’t want anyone to see her this way, but she needed help. ‘She’s the Saint of Mercy,’ I reminded her. ‘She was able to reduce the effects of the adoracia before – perhaps she can do so again.’
It took a while, but eventually Valiana nodded and I opened the door to reveal Ethalia, surrounded by a pale white glow. Behind her, the hall was filled with people on their knees, including Kest and Brasti.
‘Could you please tell her to stop doing that?’ Brasti asked.
Ethalia entered the room and I closed the door behind her. ‘It’s the adoracia,’ I warned. ‘Valiana attacked Pastien.’
‘So he tells everyone who will listen,’ she said.
Ethalia is, most days, the most peaceful and gentle person you will ever meet. I suppose that goes with being a Sister of Merciful Light – and now she’s the actual Saint of Mercy, so it goes double. Right now, though, she wasn’t striking me as all that merciful.
‘I didn’t know you were in the castle,’ I said.
‘I returned a few days ago.’ She briefly put a hand on my arm and squeezed it, recognition that there was no time for us now but we would talk later. ‘Wait outside, Falcio.’
‘But what if—?’
She left me standing there as she went to Valiana’s bedside, the glow around her lighting up the room.
*
‘Well?’ Brasti asked as I left the room. ‘Is Valiana a complete lunatic now, or just a mostly crazy person?’
I glanced around the hall. Pastien and his retainers were gone, though several of his guards remained, along with some of the nobles housed in this wing. They were all staring at me, awaiting an answer.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. That was the truth.
Whatever goes to make up raw courage, Valiana had more of it than any person I’d ever met. Two months ago she’d done the impossible: she’d overcome the effects of Adoracia fidelis, a poison that would drive anyone – well, anyone except a Saint – to utter madness. Except, of course, she hadn’t actually overcome it; the adoracia still raged in her veins, which meant that she had to continually push the madness aside, every second of every minute of every hour of every day, a feat I could barely imagine. When my wife Aline died, I’d embraced insanity with both arms rather than face the world. I doubt I’d have lasted five minutes with Adoracia fidelis in my blood.
Kest came and stood next to me. ‘Her strength has surprised us before.’
‘Ethalia is with her; with any luck she’ll help her regain full control of herself again.’ I noticed Darriana was nowhere to be seen. ‘Where’s—?’
‘Who knows?’ Brasti said, sounding annoyed. ‘Once she heard Valiana wasn’t in danger she just took off.’
A noblewoman in her nightclothes whose name I’d forgotten approached me, her husband, similarly attired, close behind. ‘That creature should be locked up in a cell, not running around attacking the Ducal Protector of Luth!’
‘I take it you’re fond of Pastien, then?’
The husband gave one of those noises nobles make that’s supposed to make you realise you’ve overstepped the bounds of propriety. It sounds a lot like harrumph, only with more phlegm. ‘We are loyal and patriotic citizens of Luth,’ he announced portentously.
‘That’s odd,’ I said. ‘I seem to recall the Ducal Protector being in rather dire need of loyal citizens a couple of months ago – I can’t say I remember any of you stepping up to defend him when the Prelate and his Church Knights came to call.’
I felt a sharp sting on my left cheek: the man had slapped me. I mean, he’d really slapped me! This crook-backed, pot-bellied nobleman had brought his arm back, opened his hand and cuffed me as if I were an errant child.
‘You dare to laugh at the Viscount of Destre?’ his wife demanded.
Truth be told, I hadn’t even noticed I was laughing. ‘Your pardon, my Lady.’ I looked at the Viscount. ‘My Lord. I regret my hasty and thoughtless words.’
There followed a bit more harrumphing and a few choice insults about the Greatcoats’ lack of manners and courage, but at last they retired back to their chambers.
I leaned back against the door of Pastien’s room and noticed Chalmers was staring at me with one eyebrow raised. ‘Since when do the Greatcoats take shit from petty noblemen in their nightshirts?’
I took in a breath and let it whistle out through my teeth. ‘Do you suppose you could resist the urge to remind me what a disappointment I am just long enough for me to find out what’s happened to my daughter?’