Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(25)
Author: A.M. Hudson

I nodded. “So, it’s like David told me—Thomas believed Jason was the devil’s incision of David’s soul—all the bad things in one boy?”

Arthur nodded. “And, sadly, Jason never pitied himself this. He believed he was responsible for killing Elizabeth—never questioned it.”

I thought of a little boy; green eyes, dark hair, so small, playing quietly by a fire. Perhaps he felt content, perhaps he felt no evil in his soul, and often wondered how he could have done such terrible things before he had even taken his first breath. But this was what they told him. This was what he was. “It’s not true, is it—he wasn’t evil?”

“My lady, there was no more evil in that child than there was love.” Arthur’s head rolled down a little, a tight breath leaving his nostrils. “Jason, somehow, was perceived the adversary at every turn, but the true monster was that which created his fury.”

“His father?”

He looked up at me. “In the beginning, yes, but when David and Jason became men, I often wondered if Thomas’ own soul had taken the heart from David—lived on in him. And in the end…”

“Jason was the monster.”

Arthur was taken aback, but softened quickly, nodding. “Then they both were.”

“No. Not David. I know he regretted everything. I know he was sorry for how he treated Jason.”

“What do you know of it?”

“I…” I looked away from Arthur. “Nothing. David never talked with me about it, but I saw it in his eyes once, when I mentioned Jason—I saw the pain of regret.”

“And you forgive David for the way he treated Jason?”

“It’s not my place to forgive.”

“Is it not—when everything you suffered began from the seed of David’s hatred?”

I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. “Then, yes, I guess I do forgive him. I guess I forgave him a long time ago.”

“But you have no forgiveness in your heart for Jason?”

“What does it matter? He’s dead.”

“As is David, but you feel the need to justify what he did.”

“I loved him.”

“And from that, you understand him.”

I nodded. “He had a good heart, Arthur—despite what he did to his brother.”

“Yes, we all contain good. But good is beheld only until loneliness manifests itself for too long in the hurt and the broken. Jason started out good, and died doing what was right. You cannot rightly love one beast and deny the other.”

“One beast killed my husband—the other didn’t.”

“No, my dear, venom killed your husband. Jason was merely the subject who was ordered to oversee it.”

“He could have said no. He could’ve let someone else do it.”

“And you would have had your cheeks sliced open for disobeying when you refused to bite David.”

My mind flashed back to that room—to David, on his knees, an inch away from death at my hands. I shuddered.

“The fact remains—sometimes, good people must do bad things. Jason was good; David was good.” Arthur looked away. “And I will never fill the emptiness their absence has left in my heart.”

I realised then, that the question of my love and forgiveness for these two men was not a question for me at all, but for himself. “You wonder if you should love them—after what they’ve done?”

“I have asked myself that question.” He nodded. “And the answer is always, that which does not deserve love, perhaps needed it the most.”

The sparkle of tears in his eyes made me want to tell him, right then, that his nephew was still alive—that he need not grieve him. But, for the sake of a stupid prophecy and the belief of my private council that he was a traitor, I had to let this man suffer. We talked about good versus bad, but I wondered if, by allowing him to grieve someone who was not dead, it made us the monsters.

“Don’t question yourself, Arthur, for loving them. One thing I’ve learned, through all those I loved and lost, is you don’t get to choose what your heart feels. It runs by a set of its own rules.”

“That, it does.” He reached out and took my hand. “And you are too young to have this wisdom. It saddens my heart, the things you have suffered to be able to conclude such philosophy.”

“It’s okay.” I squeezed his hand, thankful for the warmth of friendship I felt with him. “We find new people to love, and make our lives about them, right?”

He laughed at that. “This is also true. A piece of wisdom, I believe, my David taught you?”

I smiled widely; it felt nice to know someone who knew him like I did—who loved him, too. “Yes, it was.”

“He was a boy of many thoughts, himself. Shared very little with others, though. You were the first.”

“I know.” I took a deep breath and rubbed my temples then, as the day ahead entered my mind.

“Is something else troubling you, young princess?”

“Just a headache. It’s only mild, but I have them so often now I feel like a new person when I don’t.”

He moved suddenly, but I felt him behind me; the length of his body close to mine, as he cupped one hand around my ponytail, gently sliding my hairtie down the silky lengths until it all came loose. “Better?”

“Yeah. Heaps better.”

“Good,” he said, and each strand tingled along the base of my neck, my forehead and behind my ears, his deft fingers separating then twisting them into a loose plait. “You need to tie it up for training, or you may end up getting your head pinned to the ground by some knight’s knee. But this should be enough.”

I turned when he finished, and ran my fingers down the plait, resting it over my shoulder. “Thanks, Arthur.”

“You are welcome, my dear.” He stood a little taller and his eyes narrowed as he looked into the gardens. “You best be going. Someone is looking for you.”

He looked small from this high up, that knightly figure charging across the grounds, but his bulk frame and hair shining yellow in the morning light could not be mistaken for any other man. “I’m late for training.”

“He looks irate.”

“He probably is. He’s probably gonna make me run laps until I fall over.”

“Well,” Arthur said, offering the doorway, “we best be moving then. Can’t have you being punished for my keeping you.”