Wings In The Night - Twilight Memories Part 21

"Her views might have changed these past weeks, my friend."

"They wouldn't be the only thing to have changed, then."

Eric studied Roland's face for a long moment. "You know, you might stop to consider that she is only conceding to your requests."

"What kind of fool notion is that? I never asked her to become a piece of the furniture."

Eric shrugged, thrust his hands into his pockets and slowly paced away from Roland. "You've constantly reminded her how reckless she is, how impulsive. You've criticized her love of attention, her need to attract notice wherever she goes, her outrageous behavior. More than once, in my presence, you've asked her--no, ordered her--to behave like a lady. Now, you're complaining because she's doing as you wished."

Roland frowned hard, and looked at the floor. "Do you really think that's what she's doing?"

Eric shrugged. "It's as good a guess as I can come up with at the moment."

Roland dropped his brush into its holder, and kept his gaze focused on it. "So what do I do about it?"

Rhiannon held the sunny, yellow pillow in two fists, pulling in opposite directions until the fabric gave way with a horrible tearing sound, and fluffy white stuffing snowed down onto her feet. She gave a little growling shriek and spun in a circle.

"Ah, Rhiannon, there you are. Where've you been hiding these past few days?"

She faced the fledgling and bit her lips. She hadn't meant for anyone to witness her release of temper. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ha!" Tamara came into the room, bent and picked up two handfuls of stuffing, flinging it in the air. "What's this, then? You planning to restuff all the pillows to impress him?"

Rhiannon batted aside the falling fluff. "I don't need to impress anyone."

"Of course, you don't. I only wondered if you were aware of it, that's all."

With a little snarl, Pandora leapt off the bed to pounce on the wads of stuff as it landed, batting awkwardly with her plaster-encased paw.

"You make no more sense than my cat does," Rhiannon said softly, kicking more of the stuffing aside and walking into the living area.

"How long do you think you can keep this up, Rhiannon?"

She turned to Tamara, who followed on her heels. She was about to shout a denial, but saw the wisdom in the young one's eyes. "Not much longer. Oh, Tamara, I simply wasn't created to be meek. I'm ready to claw my way up the walls. What's more, it doesn't seem to be having the desired effect at all. He's barely looked at me since that night he carried me home."

"Oh, he's looking, all right."

Rhiannon frowned, but the fledgling seemed reluctant to say more. "Out with it, vampiress, or leave me in peace."

"Some peace, tearing apart innocent pillows when it's really him you'd like to rip in two."

Rhiannon sighed, her patience as thin as her temper. "Say what you've come to say, young one."

Tamara smiled. "Eric and I are leaving tonight. I only came to say goodbye."

"Leaving?"

"Oh, don't worry. We'll come back again soon. It's just that I want to be close to Jamey, in case he needs me. And you and Roland need to be alone, I think, to work this out."

Rhiannon looked at the floor and shook her head. "I fear there is nothing to work out. He knew I meant to leave as soon as the boy was safe. I've not kept my word and no doubt, he's wondering why."

"Well, before you do, take my advice and talk to him. Tell him everything. Don't hold anything back, not anything. Get things straight between you, once and for all, Rhiannon. If you don't, you'll never forgive yourself."

Rhiannon blinked. Then she tenaciously lifted her arms and put them around Tamara's shoulders. She hugged the little thing to her chest. "For one so young, you give good counsel, fledgling. I will miss you."

They gathered that night, the four of them, round the hearth in the great hall once more. Roland watched Rhiannon's eyes, noting with some satisfaction the spark that had finally returned. She wore the black velvet gown she'd worn that first night, and she toasted them all with her blood-red nails gripping the gla.s.s she lifted.

"When next we meet, it will be someplace different," Eric said softly. "I'll miss this drafty old castle."

"Oh, I don't know," Tamara said. "Roland might not have to give the place up, after all." Her eyes held a secret, and Roland almost grinned at the childish amus.e.m.e.nt she seemed to take in knowing something the others didn't.

"Go on, fledgling, say whatever it is that's on your mind."

"Yes, Tamara. You've had that look in your eyes all evening, ever since you made those phone calls to be sure it was safe for us to return to the States," Eric said. "What on earth makes you so smug?"

She shrugged. "I spoke with my friend, Hilary. The one who's still with DPI. It seems they're investigating the disappearance of a powerful psychic, suspected of murdering Curtis Rogers."

"What?" Roland's hand gripped his gla.s.s more tightly. Tamara shot Rhiannon a knowing glance. "The last they heard of him, he was at an emergency room in Paris, having a crushed wrist set. He vanished from his hospital bed in the middle of the night, and no one's heard from him since."

Roland slanted a glance at Rhiannon, noting that Eric and Tamara were looking at her, as well. She sipped her beverage, and pretended not to notice.

"Rhiannon, what do you know about this?"

She met his gaze and shrugged delicately. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"Rhiannon..."

She sent him a silencing glare. He was so relieved to see her acting haughty again that he let the matter drop. He could see she either didn't know what had become of Lucien, or had no intention of saying.

When they'd said their farewells at the front door, Roland closed it and faced Rhiannon. The time had come, he decided, to tell her the truth. He would bare his soul to her, once and for all, risk her ridicule and her are, admit he'd been wrong all along and ask her to forgive him. True enough, he'd driven poor Rebecca to suicide, and that was a pain from which he'd never recover. But he thought Rhiannon was too strong a woman to allow him to hurt her the same way. At least, he hoped so, because there was no way in h.e.l.l he could let her walk out of his life. Not ever.

What he saw in her eyes stopped him cold. The arrogant daughter of the Pharaoh was back, indeed. She glared at him for a single moment, then started up the stairs.

"Come with me, if you will, Roland. I, too, am prepared to take my leave, but there is something I must discuss with you first."

"Leave?" He hurried after her, trotting up the worn stairs. When she proceeded right up to the tower room, he thanked his stars he'd covered the painting before he'd left it. "You're leaving? Rhiannon, I--"

"No. I've given you ample time to say your piece. You haven't so much as whispered a word of it, so my turn has come." She went to the ladder at the room's center, up it and out onto the very top of the keep.

Roland followed. When he emerged on the top, she was leaning against the uneven layer of stone that created a short wall, gazing out over the rolling field, through the night" to the junction of the two rivers. The night wind whipped her hair, until strands of it came loose from the bun at the back of her head. She turned to face him, her hands going to the knot of hair, angrily tearing pins free, and tossing them over the side with an exaggerated flourish.

When her hair whipped loosely around her, she sent him a defiant stare. "So dies your wallflower."

Thank G.o.d, he thought. But he said nothing.

She turned from him once again. "I cannot leave here until you learn the truth, because I will, in all likelihood, never see you again to tell you how your beloved Rebecca really met her demise."

Roland frowned. "I thought we had come here to discuss... you, and me."

She licked her lips, and averted her gaze. "On that subject, it seems there is little to discuss. But there is much you don't know about Rebecca." She drew a breath as if to steady herself. "You told me you never loved her, but you know you cannot lie to me. I sense your feelings... most of the time. I know how very much you cared for her."

"And what it drove her to," he muttered, glancing beyond Rhiannon, to the ground, far, far below. Remembering the way he'd found Rebecca there. The pain came to life inside him, the guilt.

"The room where I took Tamara to meditate, it was Rebecca's room. I've been back there, you see."

Roland frowned. "Why?"

"Her aura has remained. She hasn't been at peace, Roland, not in all these centuries, because of your guilt. She needed you to know."

He shook his head, not wishing to hear this.

"Tonight she will rest at last, for tonight I will tell you what she made known to me in that room."

Roland closed his eyes. "I do not wish to discuss Rebecca. Not here." The image of her body plunging over the side haunted him even though he squeezed his eyes tight to shut it out. "She loved you, Roland."

He opened his eyes all at once. "She despised me."

"She wished to hate you for what you'd done, but she found herself falling in love with you, all the same. She came here, to this tower, only to try to decide what to do. She was racked with guilt at her feelings. She felt she might be betraying her father's memory by them, but she intended to accept your marriage proposal all the same."

He released a sudden whoosh of air. "You lie. Why are you saying these things, Rhiannon? To try to erase the burden of guilt I've carried for ages? It's no use. I know what I did to her."

"She wore a golden crucifix, on a leather thong around her throat."

Roland inhaled quickly, looking into Rhiannon's eyes. She didn't seem to be seeing him. Instead, it was as if she were looking beyond him. Her hand rose, in a fist, to the spot where the cross had rested upon Rebecca's throat.

"How do you know that?"

"It was fashioned for her by her father, and she cherished it." Her hand came away, palm opened. Her gaze searched her empty hand. "But the thong came loose, and the gold cross fell."

Roland frowned, unable to speak. Rhiannon turned, and leaned over the wall. "It became caught in a crevice of the stone. She could see it, and she tried to reach for it."

Roland gripped Rhiannon's shoulders. Her stance, the way she leaned over, was precarious at best. He turned her toward him, astonished to see tears in her eyes. "But she was small, like Tamara. She couldn't hope to reach it, could she, Roland? And she fell. Poor, innocent, silver-haired angel. She fell, and the cross remains." She stepped aside, pointing one finger downward.

Stunned, Roland stepped to the wall, and leaned over it. At first, he saw nothing. Then a glimmer caught his eye. There, wedged tightly between two rough-hewn gray stones, the small crucifix glinted a reflection of the moon above. He shook his head in wonder, as an incredible burden seemed to dissolve from its longtime place upon his shoulders.

"She didn't take her own life," he whispered.

"No, Roland. It was an accident." Rhiannon returned to the trapdoor, and stepped onto the ladder. "So now you may live your life without the guilt you've been feeling. It is my parting gift to you."

Roland whipped himself around to face her. "Wait!"

Despite his bark, her head vanished as she stepped down the ladder. Roland leapt through the trapdoor after her, catching her shoulders, and turning her to face him before she could reach the next door.

"I said wait."

She blinked rapidly, but her gaze didn't flinch from his. "For what?"

He shook his head. "There... are still things we need to discuss, Rhiannon. You know it as well as I."

"It no longer matters, Roland. It makes no difference now."

"Why?"

"Because, you fool, there is nothing more I can do. Nothing more I care to do to make myself desirable to you. For years, I've sought to show you I was worthy. These past weeks have been one escapade after another. Yet all I did to show you my strength only served to anger you further. The more I endeavored to make you want me, the more averse you became to the notion."

He felt his lips pull upward in a smile, and reached out to her, but she pulled away, turning her face from his eyes. "Rhiannon, I--"

"No. Listen to me for once, Roland. I will say this now, or never feel moved to again. You might as well know all of it. When Lucien held me in that hole, he told me you were dead. And I howled my grief to the G.o.ds. I swore I would be the meek-willed creature you wanted me to be, if only they would return you to me. Can you believe it? Me, Rhiannon, bargaining for a chance to please a man."

He closed his eyes, and shook his head slowly, but she rushed on.

"I've tried to do as I promised, Roland. For days, I have whispered around these walls like a withering primrose. And what has it accomplished? You pay less attention to me now than before. And it wouldn't have mattered if you had, because I cannot convert myself to suit you, or anyone. I've learned that only recently. I am who I am. Rhiannon, born Rhianikki, daughter of Pharaoh, princess of Egypt, vampiress, immortal woman."

She turned, and gripped his shoulders in her hands. "Look at me, Roland. Do you not see it in my eyes?"

The only thing he saw in her eyes, just then, was a sudden, glittering flood of tears.

"I love you," she whispered. "You can search the world, sift the deserts, comb the seas, and you will never find a love like mine for you. It is endless, boundless, and it will never fade. I've fought it for most of my existence, and still it remains. Yet you choose to throw such love away, just as my father did before you. You are a fool, Roland, to let me leave here. But I am equally a fool for throwing myself at your feet one last time before I go. Step on my heart and end this agony, once and for all. At least now, you can have no doubt what you will be missing."

Roland bit his lips. He wouldn't shout at her, though the temptation was great. "Rhiannon, are you finished?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'll keep my promise and leave you now."

"No. Not quite yet. I believe there are a few things left unsaid between us. Will you listen?"

"No."

He searched her face, but she turned it away. "Why not?"

Her voice came hoa.r.s.ely. "I don't wish to compound my humiliation by crying like a child in front of you, when you reject me this one final time."

He sighed as she stepped away from him. "At least hear this, Rhiannon. All this time, all the risks you've taken, the recklessness you've shown, you haven't been trying to prove your worth to me."

She turned slowly, her gaze fierce. "Haven't I?"

"No, nor to your father." He stepped nearer, and gripped her shoulders. "You've only been trying to prove it to yourself. Your father's rejection, and then mine, made you question your own worth, Rhiannon."

She blinked, and he saw the fresh moisture that sprung to her lashes. "Perhaps..."

"Question it no longer. Your heroism, your courage, are beyond those of any knight I've ever known, Rhiannon. You are a woman beyond any who has ever existed, nor ever will. Believe that."