The Truth Will Out | Valentina & Eithne
“I don’t think you ever loved my father,” Eithne voice was hard and harsh as ice. “And I don’t think you ever truly knew him. If you had, you would know the way you are acting…it would break his heart.” It had rankled her, played through her head again, again, again, robbed her even of the power to respond. She might not have pursued Eithne, now, might simply have let Eithne crash and burn in peace with all that now was out...but those words rang still in her head. And she needed to blot them out.
"Well? How long did you seriously think you could hide this from me?" Valentina's expression was imperious, frigid in its scorn. She'd waited till the Malconaire gala was over, its guests all gone home as slowly dawn light crested over the trees. But now was the moment. Now she would confront the girl.
Eithne had come skulking out of the woods with Sir Tristan behind her, her hair and clothes scandalously dissheveled, hugging the knight's cloak to her while he, in turn, held her hair pins in his hand. Clearly, they hadn't been the only garments he'd plucked from her body. Eithne had known better than to be seen by most, but Valentian's eyes were sharp, and she'd been seeking for her every moment since the news of her pregnancy had out. She'd beheld the disgraceful return.
"I need not ask you where you were, or what you were doing, while you were neglecting your lord's guests. It's quite obvious what you were about, though -- truly? Pregnant, betrothed, and still in need of yet more male...attentions? You may be the most voracious young woman I have ever met. But, at least you are now free to take any lover you wish, I suppose: you need not fear falling pregnant, after all."
She paused. "I do hope what you were so...vigorously securing tonight was a new betrothal," she mused. "I doubt the one you've got will last long, now, will it? Particularly given the very interesting conversation you and I had the first day of the tournament."
Valentina's smile was triumphant.
Eithne had finally sat down after what felt like days of being on her feet during her step mother's gala, easing into a chair in the great hall that still held the remnants of the party itself. Eithne knew Cassimir would not wish for her to help with the cleaning but to leave it to the few servants and her sisters seemed unkind so, after a rest, she would start clearing away the plates while her husband-to-be slept...
This was not to be.
"What are you going on about?" Eithne groaned uncharacteristically when her step mother appeared. Too much had happened that night she needed to think over in her head, to process. More soon would come, but Eithne could not know yet what her youngest sister would tell her in the next few hours...
"Pregnant?" Eithne asked, finally looking up to meet her step mother's gaze. Her step mother had always towered over her and somehow always seemed to remind Eithne of just how small she should feel. This morning, however... this morning she would not.
"I don't know what vicious gossip you have heard..." Eithne rose from her chair to stand and face the woman. "Or perhaps been spreading but this is utter nonsense. And you, Step Mother, are a fool to believe it. This will pain your beloved son should he hear of it-- is that what you wish? To cause him pain?"
Eithne balked slightly when Valentina mentioned her engagement ending with Cassimir and everything Eithne, herself, had said at the tournament. She swallowed hard, made to stand her ground. This was her home and even in this small way, she meant to defend it against her step mother.
"I know you will twist my words and try to poison my intentions when you speak to Cassimir," Eithne continued, trying to keep her voice calm, though she could feel herself shaking. "And do what you must-- I have long since come to realize I cannot change your mind. I only ask you answer me one question..." Eithne paused.
"Was the will you presented to the Varmont officials declaring Cassimir the heir my father's true will? Or did you doctor it?"
"Nonsense?" scoffed Valentina, plucking one of the star-like pins from the careful pile Sir Tristan had left on the table. She held it up before Eithne as though it were proof. "I suppose Sir Tristan simply gathered these off the ground when they fell from your head." She laughed, bitterly, and plunked it down again. It shone in the dim light, twinkling back the power of the dying fire in the grate.
"Do you know I was approached by Her Majesty, Queen Amira, herself, tonight?" Slowly, Valentina sank into the chair opposite her stepdaughter, brow arched imperiously. "I told her how grateful we had been to receive her son and brother and stepsons over the years." She nodded. "She smiled at me, a look I shall never forget -- head tilting ever so slightly, the jewels of her crown winking and dancing in the firelight. I had the strangest impression, you know, that the smile did not quite reach her eyes, and the lips, themselves, almost pursed. It was so strange a thing to be looked at like that, half-measuring, as if I, myself, were not quite as royal by blood as she."
She looked at me as though I were nothing.
Valentina breathed in sharply through her nose. Her heart pounded, again, remembering that icy look. It had been a queen looking over some lowly...serf! Not the look of one equal upon another. They were so haughty, these women Roderick had taken to his bed -- first Marian, now Amira. They made her feel...Her throat felt tight. She'd been accustomed to being put down by her own mother, but she had always used words. Roderick's second queen had not even needed that. Her heart felt as though it were shrinking.
Valentina's eyes flshed to Eithne. She forced an impertinent smile. "She spoke of you, you know. Said that you had had an interesting chat with His Majesty the Emperor. Care to tell me more? Or shall I tell you what Her Majesty intimated of the scene to me?"
In truth, Amira had not said much of anything, outright. She had known hints would take stronger root in Valentina's head. She had been right.
Valentina's lip curled as Eithne called her fool. She didn't venture to stand, as Eithne did, instead drawing another star-like pin towards herself, running her finger carefully over its shape. "There is something, Eithne, which you have never understood about me. Like you, I will do anything for my family. Anything at all. Even pain them, if that is what is best for them. But gangrene must be sawed from the body if it is to live. So, too, must you be cut out of his heart, forever. If no one else loves him enough to do what is best for him -- I shall not shirk my responsibilities. He shall be freed." Valentina paused, pursed her lips. "I daresay, someday even you will love someone or something well enough to give up anything, everything for them. Then you'll understand me."
Scoffing her stepmother brushed her gown carelessly, arching her thin brows at her stepdaughter. "My dear girl -- what on earth is there to twist? For once, I think, you actually said what you meant."
"Was the will you presented to the Varmont officials declaring Cassimir the heir my father's true will? Or did you doctor it?"
She'd been staring expectantly at the girl, challengingly, yet when she heard her question, she froze. For a moment, she was silent, then she began to laugh. "Oh, is that what all of this is about? Don't be so foolish. Of course I honored your father's intentions." She shook her head, half-unbelieving, but she held herself very stiff, very rigid. Her lips were drained of blood, and just behind the eye there was a look of mingled disbelief and even a touch...of fear.
Swallowing hard, Valentina gathered herself, forced a smile, willed the stiffness from her limbs. She'd done the right thing, she told herself. She'd saved Malconaire! Had Macdara's foolish will gone forward, they would have, all of them, been reduced to poverty, forced to get along with just the Riverbend and cast out of Malconaire while some Varmont-loyalist was handed all that ws so rightfully theirs. Yet, this cheating little trollop had the audacity to stand there and revile her for it! It wasn't Eithne who had saved them all, it had been Valentina and her quick thinking that had saved them all from destitution. Eithne ought to kiss her feet.
It was her, Valentina realized, sinking back into her seat. A knowing smile flickered across her lips. She's the vile little thief who stole the record of Macdara's misguided whims. "Ohhh, I see. You think yourself quite clever, little fox. You think that some alteration would see you leading the way, is that it?"
She paused, eyeing her for some time. Her voice, when she spoke, was sharp and hard as ice. "Tell me, daughter mine -- do you really think I overthrew all that your father wanted? I, who risked life and limb to save your troublesome sister from a pyre? Eithne, Macdara wasn't a fool. He didn't very well die so that Roderick Varmont could control Malconaire, did he? Hear me now, Eithne, if he had named you, that's precisely what would have become of his legacy. And, somehow, I don't truly believe tht that's what either you or he really would have wanted." She tilted her head. "Do you?"
I saved Malconaire, she thought. I saved it for us all. I saved it for him.




















