Jane had not thought that Noah’s face could get any whiter, but somehow it managed the feat.
And then it suffused with red, and Jane saw Noah’s eyes glitter.
Suddenly Noah stood up, sending her stool skittering against the far wall, stepped up to Catling, and dealt a sharp blow to the girl’s cheek. “You hateful little—”
“Don’t!” Jane said, rising herself and grabbing at Noah’s hand before she could strike Catling again. “You will not do any good, either to yourself or to this land!”
“What I have done has always been for the best,” Catling said softly, her eyes on Noah. “Sometimes it is not easy to see, but—”
“I thought you were my daughter,” Noah said, and very slowly, agonisingly, sank to her knees. “I thought you were my daughter!”
Jane knelt down and put her arms about Noah’s shoulders. Coming on top of all the shocks Noah had received in the past hours, this was probably just too much to bear.
Noah was weeping now, and she looked up and stared at Catling. “Why weren’t you honest with me?”
Catling shrugged. “It wasn’t important…and I had to be careful, after all.”
“Don’t think that now I will do what you want, what you have manipulated me into—”
“You must,” said Catling evenly. “For this land, for the good of—”
Noah spat out an obscenity, and Jane almost reeled back in shock. “I will not be your pawn!” Noah said.
“You will do what is necessary,” Catling said. “You have no other choice.”
“Does my daughter still live somewhere? Within you? Trapped elsewhere?”
Catling hesitated, then shook her head. “No. She died truly that night that Genvissa swept her from your body.”
“You led me to believe…Mag led me to believe…all those visions of my daughter in the stone hall. I was to have her, eventually, once all had succeeded.”
“You led yourself to believe,” Catling said. “There was never any hope for your daughter. She was lost thousands of years ago, Noah. Accept it.”
“I led myself to believe? I will not ‘accept’ that. I saw my daughter—or was it you all this time?—in the stone hall long before I ever became pregnant with her. I have been tricked. Tricked. And this trickery was laid down almost three thousand years ago. You have been planning this deception for almost three thousand years. You just wanted to use me.”
She lunged forward, and Jane thought then that Noah would have reached out and clawed Catling’s eyes from her face if Jane had not physically held her back—and that took every ounce of strength that she could summon.
“I would have done everything for this land had you but asked,” Noah shouted. “Everything! Why wrap me about in so many lies and secrets? Why feel the need to force my hand? Why lead me to believe I could have my daughter back?” She paused, then almost screamed the next. “Why lead me to believe I could ever have a daughter? Was it Genvissa who murdered my daughter, you hateful, hateful, piece of creation, or was it you all along?”
“Shush!” Jane said. “Weyland will hear!”
“All I have wanted,” said Catling, “all I have ever needed, was to make sure that all plays out as I want.” Suddenly she seemed not the little girl at all, but something massive and ominous that filled the kitchen with its power. “What you wanted was totally unimportant.”
“Get out,” said Noah, very low, staring at Catling.
“Noah—” Jane began.
“Get out,” Noah said. Her voice was low, but it was trembling with power, and with hatred. “Get out!”
Catling looked once at Jane, bleakly, as if promising retribution. Then she turned, and left.
Eleven
Idol Lane and Whitehall Palace, London
Something had happened during the night, something powerful, but Weyland did not know what it was.
“What have you been doing, Noah?” he whispered as he walked silently from the Idyll. Had he revealed too much? Had he been too kind?
Had she taken advantage?
He paused at the door to Elizabeth and Frances’ room, putting a hand to its wood.
They were still there. Asleep and unwitting.
Weyland dropped his hand, and looked to the head of the stairs.
He could hear voices from the kitchen. Noah’s voice, raised. Jane’s, soft and cajoling.
Weyland raised an eyebrow. Jane—soft and cajoling?
There was a movement behind him, and Weyland turned.
The two imps had appeared, both with worry lines creasing their faces.
“What is it?” Weyland said softly. “Catling is gone,” said one.
“Run away?” Weyland said. He felt a slight sense of relief. He hadn’t liked the girl.
“No,” said the other imp. “Gone, chased by angry words. Her mother sent her away.”
Weyland gaped. Damn it, this had happened while he slept? “Why did Noah chase her daughter away?”
Both the imps shrugged, although they looked discomforted and awkward. What did they know?
Weyland stared at them a moment longer, then he turned and ran lightly (but, oh, so silently) down the stairs, crossed the parlour, and entered the kitchen.
Noah and Jane sat huddled together on the floor before the hearth. Both looked up as he entered, Jane looking shocked, Noah angry and distraught all in one. Her face was tear-streaked, her eyes swollen.
“What has happened here?” Weyland said.
“We live in your house,” Jane said tartly. “You must expect tears now and again.”
“Catling has gone,” Weyland said, watching Noah as he said the words.
She turned her face away, her expression now wooden.
“Jane,” Weyland said softly, not moving his eyes from Noah, “you may leave us now.” “Weyland—” she said. “Leave us!”
Jane gave Noah’s shoulders a squeeze with her hands, stood, sent Weyland a baleful stare, then brushed past him.
A moment later he heard her cross the parlour and start up the stairs.
Weyland walked over to where Noah sat on the floor, and held out a hand.
Very reluctantly, Noah allowed Weyland to aid her to rise.
He pulled her close, noting well how she averted her face from his, and laid a hand lightly on her waist. Gods, how she trembled!
“Why?” Weyland said, very softly. “Why send Catling away? She is only a child, Noah. Your child…”
Noah said nothing, but, if possible, averted her face even more from his.
“What did she do?”
“I have had a poor night, Weyland. I would like to be alone.”
“Tell me.” His face was so close to her now that his breath brushed her ear as he spoke. She tensed.
“Tell me,” he whispered, pulling her yet closer. “What could be so bad that you sent away a little girl?”
She laughed shortly, the sound harsh and grating.
“Perhaps I have more of Ariadne in me than you imagine, Weyland. Perhaps I, too, can send a daughter away.”
“You are nothing like Ariadne. You loved your daughter.”
“She did not wish to be loved.”
“Noah…”
“I did not want her here, Weyland! Can you not understand that? How could I want a daughter trapped with me in this…in this…”
“But you brought her here willingly.”
“I changed my mind.”
“What happened during the night? Everything is…different.”
She finally looked at him, her eyes overbright, her smile strained and hard. “Jane has finally agreed to teach me the ways and traps of the labyrinth, Weyland. Aren’t you pleased?”
Weyland narrowed his eyes. “Truly? How…courageous of her.”
“How courageous of me to accept,” Noah muttered. She was stiff and unyielding in his arms, but suddenly Weyland did not care. Finally she would become his Mistress, and Weyland was never so glad of anything in his life. They would dance together, control power together…
“I am glad,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek, and then, softly, lingeringly, her neck. When she pulled away he did not try to hold her back.
“Perhaps,” he said, “we should fetch those kingship bands today.”
“No. Not yet.” She was several paces away now, her face averted.
“No?” He moved over to her, taking her arm as she tried to evade him. “Noah, don’t make me force you. Please.”
She turned her face yet further away, and said nothing.
“You know, surely, that the hold I have over you is as strong as ever it was when the imp rested inside you? That I can—”
At that she looked at him. “I don’t believe you will do that again. I don’t think you are capable.”
A complete stillness fell between them.
Weyland could hardly bear it. He wanted to scream at her that yes! he was capable. That, yes! he could send her shrieking to the floor any moment he chose. That, yes! she was his creature as much as ever she had been.
And yet not a word left his mouth.
“Weyland,” Noah said softly. “It would be better to leave the bands until I attain my full powers as Mistress of the Labyrinth, surely?”
He did not answer, nor did he shift his eyes from hers.