Laurell Hamilton - Never After

“Olivia,” he said, his voice both wretched and compassionate. “Olivia, please wait—”

I shook my arm free and then turned both of my hands into fists and beat at his chest. “You knew !” I sobbed, for it turned out I was weeping. “You brought me here and you knew what I would find! How could you? How could such a place be ? How could you bring me here and let me find it—”

“Shh—shh—let me explain—I would never have let you out of my sight if I had realized you would start exploring—Olivia, hush a moment, be still—”

“I can’t be still, I can’t stop crying, and everything is too horrible, and it’s all your fault,” I wailed. I dropped to my knees and began crying even harder.

Harwin bent over, scooped me up, and, heedless of my flailing fists, carried me a good hundred yards before settling down on a narrow bench that appeared to be situated for no good reason in the middle of a desolate acre of lawn. From one of his pockets he pulled out a rather shriveled orange and handed it to me.

“Here. Peel that and eat a slice. You lost your lunch back there and your mouth must feel horrid. And don’t say a word,” he added, raising his voice when I began ranting again, “while you listen to what I say.”

My hands were shaking so much I couldn’t make the first gouge in the tough skin of the fruit. Harwin took it from me, teased back a small section, and returned it. My hands grew sticky with juice as I continued to work away at the rind. When I crammed the first two sections in my mouth, I couldn’t remember anything that had ever tasted so good.

“Your father brought Gisele here the day after they were married,” Harwin said. “Told her to pick out a dog that she could call hers, and then proceeded to fight it in a few rounds, all of which it won. Her own father keeps a pack of fighting dogs, so she’d known how to choose a good one. She knew if she selected a weak animal, and it was killed in the first round, her marriage would be unbearable, because it was clear your father thought this particular exercise represented something about power. She said she cried herself to sleep every night they spent at Kannerly on that first visit, and then she never let herself cry again.”

“How can someone do such awful things?” I burst out. “Because he’s the king? Because he has money and power and he can always get his way?”

“There are people with much fewer resources who are just as brutal as your father,” Harwin answered. “What makes a man enjoy someone else’s pain? What makes him feast on violence? The answer is, I do not know. It is not just kings who are cruel. All sorts of people are unfair, unkind, or truly evil.”

“You’re not,” I said.

He bowed his head. “I try not to be,” he said.

“You don’t own fighting dogs.”

He shook his head.

“And you don’t shout terrible names at people in the town square,” I said, remembering the scene with Dannette at the fountain.

He half smiled. “And I don’t beat my horses or starve my servants or kick beggars in the streets,” he said humorously. “The list of my virtues is truly long.”

“I mean it,” I insisted. “You’re a good man.”

“I hope so,” he said, serious again. And then, as if he added the words reluctantly, “And so is Darius. I find him—more frivolous than I might like, but I also find him completely devoid of malice. I think you might have chosen him for reasons other than his good heart, but I have discovered that it is the most impressive thing about him.”

I didn’t want to talk about Darius. I ate another section of the orange, then shut my eyes, but that just caused my mind to re-create the nightmarish scene in the barn. We were still close enough to hear the incessant howls and whimpers of the dogs, though the smell was not so strong here. I sighed and leaned my head back against the nearest support. That happened to be Harwin’s arm, still wrapped around my shoulders.

“Why did you let me come to this dreadful place?” I whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me no when I insisted?”

He was quiet a moment. “It’s not my place to tell you yes or no,” he said at last. “I will always offer you my counsel, but I will never tell you what to do.” There was another pause before he went on, his voice even slower. “And, in this case, my counsel would have tallied with your inclination. If you are to be queen, you must know everything your country holds. You must know what your father has promoted and what his subjects have embraced. If you become queen, Kannerly will fall into your hands. What will you do then with this possession?”

“Tear it down,” I said instantly. “Burn it to the ground.”

“And the other estates that train such dogs?” he said. “And the men and women who profit from such activities?”

I opened my eyes and glared at him, but found I had no easy answer. If I indeed became queen, I would instantly outlaw the practice of raising fighting dogs. Of that I had no doubt. But folk who had run what formerly had been a legal enterprise would suddenly be without an income. What would my responsibility be to them? “I don’t know,” I snapped. “I’ll figure something out.”

A somber smile broke through the habitual gravity of his face. “Yes,” he said, “I have faith that you will.”

A sense of puzzlement settled over me; I felt my brows draw down in a frown. “I don’t know why,” I said.

“Why what?”

“Why you would have faith in me. I’ve never done anything particularly memorable.”

His smile grew by the tiniest margin. “Oh, there I must disagree. You have managed—with great creativity and boundless stubbornness—to thwart your father at almost every turn for your entire life. He wanted you to be charming and empty-headed, but instead you became sharp-tongued and opinionated. He wanted you to be meek and biddable, but you would not make friends where he wished you to or court the nobles he asked you to. He wanted you to marry me , and we all know how that turned out. You have won every battle of wills with your father, and he is not an easy man to withstand. I imagine you will accomplish almost anything you set out to do, no matter how difficult. It will be an entertaining saga to watch.”

Everything he said just made my frown blacker. “I sound like a terribly disagreeable person!” I exclaimed, sitting up straighter. I would have pulled myself away from him altogether except his hold tightened enough to keep me in place—and I did not try very hard to slip away. “Nothing to recommend me but a contrary disposition!”

“Yet fifty men showed up to strive for the honor when your father invited them to compete for your hand,” he reminded me.

“They wanted to marry me because I’m a princess,” I said glumly. “Perhaps one day to be queen.” I risked one sidelong look at his face. “That’s why you wanted to marry me, no doubt. A throne makes even a shrew seem attractive.”

“I would have wanted to marry you if you were a beggar’s daughter fighting for survival,” he said quietly. “I will want to marry you if Gisele is right and your father manages to sire a son by some new bride. I am moved by your indomitable spirit, I am awed by your determination, and I am impressed by your intelligence.”

He reached up his free hand to brush a stray lock of hair from my face. “And I remember always the lonely child you were, growing up in that unfriendly palace,” he went on. “The expression on your face, when your mother would walk into a room—the hope you would show—the smile you would produce. And the look of abandonment you would wear when she turned aside without noticing you. I never saw anyone so willing to be loved and so surrounded by people who were not capable of such an emotion. I thought, ‘ I will love her, if she will let me.’ ” He gave me a smile of such tenderness that for a moment I couldn’t catch my breath. “All these years later, and that’s still how I feel.”