“Where did they take her?” Charlotte asked.
“To a hole in the woods. They wanted children, specifically. They put her into a hole in the ground. Sophie said on the second day a man climbed down to visit her. He groped her and tried to rip off her clothes.”
Charlotte’s eyes shone with outrage.
“Sophie can flash. She’s properly trained like most of us. Her training wasn’t complete then, but she defended herself. She flashed through the man’s eyes and killed him. In punishment, they stopped feeding her or giving her water. It took us eight days to find her. I remember that camp like I saw it yesterday. Half-flooded holes, starving children, some dead, some dying. We slaughtered the slavers. I got into the hole to pull Sophie out. I stood on the slaver’s corpse to lift her. Some of him was missing.”
“Dawn Mother, did she eat him?”
“I don’t know. I never asked. She didn’t know when we would be coming for her, and she did what she had to to survive. But she was never the same. First, she stopped brushing her hair. Then she stopped wearing nice clothes. She decided that she didn’t like her name and she wanted to be called Lark. She spent most of her time in the woods and stopped talking. She would hunt small game or just find carrion and hang it on a tree in the forest because she was convinced that she was a monster, and we would run her off into the woods to fend for herself.”
Charlotte sat up. “Did you get her help?”
“There are no healing colleges in the Mire,” he said. “Every time I tried to speak to her, she would run away as if I were one of them. One of my cousins is a physician. Not like you, but she is talented in her own way. She examined Sophie several times. There was nothing physically wrong with her. But Sophie was always close to her mother, and as long as some connection between her and her family remained, I thought that, given time, she would slowly heal. But the Hand came calling.”
“The Louisiana spies?” Charlotte’s eyes widened.
“They wanted something our family had. Do you recall the exile I mentioned? Vernard?”
“Yes.”
“His last name was Dubois. Does it mean anything to you?”
Charlotte frowned. “Vernard Dubois was a celebrated medical scientist in the Dukedom of Louisiana a few decades before my time. I’ve read some of his work—he con-centrated on applied medical botany. Contrary to what some people think, the College healers don’t just limit their medical education to the use of magic. We study pharmacology, herbology, and other disciplines just like any other medical . . . I’m rambling. Was he the same man?”
“Yes. He’s Sophie’s grandfather.”
Charlotte blinked.
“Louisiana exiled him into the Mire because he had crossed the line into the forbidden territory of magic alteration.”
“That’s rich.” Charlotte snorted. “They turn their spies into magic monstrosities. You wouldn’t believe some of the things they do to the human body.”
“I would,” he told her. “I’ve killed many of them.”
She leaned over and brushed a kiss on his lips. “What does Dubois have to do with all of this?”
“He built a device. He meant it to be a healing apparatus, but instead it turned the human body into an indestructible monster. The Hand wanted it. Louisiana sent a unit of their magically altered spies into the Mire led by a man who calls himself Spider. They kidnapped Sophie’s parents. It cost us two-thirds of our family, but we wiped them out.”
“Sophie’s parents?”
“Spider fused her mother.”
Shock slapped Charlotte’s face. That’s how Richard had reacted when he first found out. The process of fusion melded human tissue to that of plant, creating a symbiotic entity with all of the memories of the human being but none of the will. Irreversible and agonizing, it had robbed both Cerise and Sophie of their mother.
“Gustave survived,” he said. “So Sophie has one parent. When the Mirror relocated our family to Adrianglia, I hoped she would leave Lark behind. She traded rags for dresses, and now she takes etiquette lessons. The rest of the time she trains.”
“With her sword?” Charlotte guessed. She was beginning to get an idea of how their family worked.
Richard nodded. “I’ve never seen her level of dedication. She practices constantly. Three years ago, she had no interest in it. If you asked me back then, I would’ve told you she would be a mediocre fighter at best. Today, I’m running out of things I can teach her. She developed the killer instinct, she’s ruthless, and I worry about her lack of restraint. Something drives her.”
“Do you think she wants to go after slavers?”
“I don’t know. I told you about my brother. I have, had, another, our half brother Erian. He was just a child when my father died. He was standing right next to him. It irreparably damaged him. He hid it for years, but eventually his hatred consumed him. I don’t want that for her.”
“You think that by killing the slavers you can heal her?” Charlotte asked.
“No. But I can spare her the need to take revenge herself. She’s a good fighter, but she’s still a child. If she goes after the slavers, she will die. Even if she doesn’t, seeking vengeance will damage her more. Slavery is an aberration. It shouldn’t exist in our time, yet it does, and I decided I won’t permit it. I can’t stop it on the entire continent, but I will stop it here in Adrianglia. Sophie will never have to see what I saw. I won’t let their atrocities scar her any further.” His voice degenerated into a snarl. He caught himself. “I let her go on that boat. I was the one who said, ‘I don’t see any harm in it. Go ahead.’”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”
“Richard, it’s not your fault. It’s not her fault either. I can take her to Lady Augustine. She is my surrogate mother at Ganer College. She’s a mind soother, and she’s as good at healing the soul as I am at healing the body. If anyone can assist Sophie, she can, and she will.”
“I’m not certain she wants help.” It wasn’t their way. One didn’t rely on strangers.
Charlotte raised her arms. “Of course she doesn’t want help. None of us want help when we’re fifteen and the world has victimized us. That’s why we have adults in our lives who make that decision for us. She may not want it, but she needs it. Promise me that once we’re done, one way or the other, you will take her to the College. If neither of us survives, her sister or Rose should make sure she visits there. I will write a letter. If you take it with you, Lady Augustine will see you. Promise me?”
“I promise,” Richard said.
“I’ll hold you to it.”
A sad whine echoed through the house.
Charlotte blinked. “Is that the dog?”
“Couldn’t be. We left him with the boys.” Richard slid off the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
He went down the ladder and opened the door. A black shape shot by him, smelling of wet fur and dripping rainwater.
“I thought I was rid of you,” he growled.
The dog shook, causing the fire pit to hiss.
“He’s decided he’s ours,” Charlotte called from the loft.
Richard took the towel she had left on the couch and spread it down for the dog. The big mutt flopped on it.
Richard climbed back up the stairs, stretched out on the bed, and pulled her closer. “Your turn.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Tell me why you wanted to kill your ex-husband.”
Charlotte turned on her back, looked at the ceiling, and sighed. “Turnabout is fair play?”
“Yes.”
“I was taken to the College when I was seven. It’s the only life I knew until I was twenty-seven years old. I’ve read books about adventures and love. I flirted. I even made out with boys.”
“Shocking.”
“Oh, it was. In the last years of my being there, I couldn’t wait to escape. I was going to travel. I would have all the adventures I could possibly want.” She sighed again. “At twenty-seven, I received my land grant, my house, and my noble title for my decade of service. I moved in, and soon I realized that I had no idea how big the world really was. I was going to travel, I really was, but the house needed work and the garden needed to be tended, and there were good books . . .”
She made big eyes at him.
“You were scared,” he guessed.
She nodded. “I had all the training and confidence I would ever need, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything with it. And then Elvei Leremine walked into my life. He was a blueblood, flawless, handsome . . .”
“I hate him already,” he said.
Charlotte smiled, a sad parting of lips without humor. “I was besotted with the idea of falling in love and having a family. Here was my prince, so considerate, so together. The whole thing seemed like a perfect shortcut to happiness. Instead of combing through men and dealing with rejection, I found the ideal husband right away, and I married him because I was so utterly stupid. He stood in line to inherit his family’s lands, but until then we decided it would be best if he came to live with me. He started speaking of children right away. We tried for six months, and he grew more and more alarmed when I didn’t conceive. Then, finally, I went to be diagnosed. For another year and a half I denied the inevitable. I went to the best healers I knew. I underwent procedure after procedure—the memories still give me nightmares. I refused to give up. I was always taught that if you strive hard enough, you will achieve what you desire. I’d read all those romantic books, where a woman can’t conceive, then she meets the right man, and the power of love or his magic virility or what have you overcomes her problems, and she has gorgeous triplets. My magic cure was just around the corner, I was sure of it.”
She turned to look at him. “I’m barren, Richard. Irreversibly. I will never have a child. There is no cure.”