Truth Revealed

To my beloved sister Kyla,

I am glad that you have spoken to your husband about the way your in-laws treat you. Such treatment as you have described truly is not to be borne, and I am glad that he is taking steps on your behalf to remedy your situation. I only wish, for your sake, that he deemed a more expedient course possible and desirable. I’m sure he knows best, however, having lived with his parents all his life, and I understand that your wifely duty according to God’s Holy Word is to submit to your husband in all things.

I am also thrilled to hear that you will be permitted to be my Matron of Honor, whenever my wedding does take place. Unfortunately, it has been postponed indefinitely, on account of the possibility of war. If war does not break out, our original plan was to be married late in October, or perhaps early in November, depending on how the planning process went. However, Dmitri’s father feels most strongly that planning a wedding in wartime would only distract us from our duties, as would any strengthened feelings between us that they say are natural in the “honeymoon phase.” Nevertheless, I have already spoken to one of my attendants, who has become a dear friend of mine, and she is not only willing to travel to Kashmir to be your escort, but she is most excited about the prospect. Her name is Malina, and she is as resourceful and spirited as I am. I think you will like her very much, if and when you ever meet.

This is, however, the end of my gladness in writing to you, and now my pen moves sluggishly across the page in dread of what must follow. You have asked me about the Berkeleys, for the truth about their “warrior” status and the rumors that so disquiet you, and I will tell you, but I sincerely hope that you are true to your word and love me the same in spite of this truth. Regardless of that, I must swear you to absolute secrecy. Please tell no one of what I have written about my new family, not even your husband.

Kyla, dear sister, my intended and his family are not practitioners of magic, at least not in the same way as our deplorable grandmother (about whom I will write more later). However, you may find the truth harder to bear and to accept. The Berkeleys are in fact not even human, but members of the humanoid species of elementals. I know this seems incredible, too much to believe, but I have never spoken falsely to you before and swear on my life that I never shall. Dmitri has sway over fire; his father, over electricity; and his mother, over air. Lord Berkeley’s family is intimately connected with the British throne and they all serve the King in whatever capacity he calls them to. Lady Berkeley, maiden name Saltikov, is similarly connected to the Russian tsar and serves him in a similar capacity. Fortunately for this family, Russia and the British Empire will be on the same side in the war that currently seems to be brewing between the European powers.

I understand that this must all be a great deal for you to take in, and I apologize that it must be so difficult. But worse things are yet to come, and I pray that you will be strong as you read this.

I suppose I must start this next bit of unpleasantness with our grandmother. You know she has been arranging marriages for us, as we have previously discussed. Well, it seems that Grandfather and Dmitri’s (late) grandfather were once quite good friends. Grandmother of course knew that the Berkeleys were elementals, and knew that Grandfather was (and probably still is) given to gambling. I’m told she had been plotting to solve Grandfather’s debt problems with marriages since before he had them; perhaps she is gifted with foresight or clairvoyance of some kind, as part of her dark arts. She also knew that ordinary humans cannot be suitable mates for elementals, and so she...made arrangements to have a grandchild who was not an ordinary human. She somehow induced our father to have an affair with one of her protégées, a young woman who also practiced magic and had a talent for manipulating water.

I am that woman’s daughter, Kyla, not the daughter of the woman we called Mother. Grandmother had me switched with Mother’s third child shortly after our births. I know not what became of the other girl, and pray that I cannot be held in any way responsible for it. As you have probably guessed by now, I have inherited my birth mother’s talent for manipulating water. I have magic, somehow, and I phrase it that way because I can feel it as a separate entity inside myself, one that I can influence and control but that has its own will and motives. It has influenced me from the very beginning--Zira was right about the way I move being unnatural. It is, for a human. My musical talent may also be owing to this magic. I know not how far its influence extends, only that it is a part of me that, whether I know of it or not, is evident in everything I do and everything I am, whether I mean for it to be or not.

So there you have it, the information you wanted. I am sorry that it is not what you no doubt wanted to hear, and sorry for any grief or pain this news causes you. I would have told you sooner, but I only just learned it all since I came here, and I wanted to postpone causing you this pain for as long as possible. Please do not be angry with me, for I have only told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Inquire of Him as to what course you should best take, and do as He tells you. Whatever path He leads you to, my love for you will not diminish, for you are my sister and closest friend even now. If you feel that you cannot in right conscience act as my Matron of Honor in a ceremony to join me to a non-human (or an intractable sinner, however you may view him), I will understand, although admittedly I will be deeply saddened.

Regardless of circumstances, you have all of my love.

Aerys

I stare silently at the letter I’ve written, perhaps the last letter I will ever write to Kyla, depending on how she takes it. I cannot believe I’ve written this. I can only imagine how she will react to it. I’ve been imagining for the past few days, as I’ve had a good deal of free time for such things. Zinaida insisted that I take a full three days off from training after the day I was bedridden, even though yesterday I felt fit as a fiddle and today I feel more so for being anxious from being confined to studying and needlework. My only respite has been that, instead of dress fittings, I’ve been able to spend some time with Dmitri the past two afternoons; he requested leave from his afternoon training so that he could ‘help me recover.’ By that he means that we spent those precious hours in his studio while he painted and we worked through the first few drafts of this letter.

I’ve slept precious little for agonizing over how to word it. It’s a miracle I’ve recovered at all, else a result of Malina constantly pouring water down my throat. She says Giacomo recommended that remedy. I’ll have to thank him for it, whenever I see him again. I suppose the earliest I can hope for is tomorrow morning. I should be training with him now, but Zinaida has forbidden it.

She has not, however, forbidden me to interrupt Yekaterina’s English lessons with Dmitri. I should like him to look over this draft before I declare it to be the final version and authorize Malina to send it off for me. I would also like to see for myself how the two of them interact during these lessons, but no one will ever hear me own that as my motivation. I am grateful that this letter, difficult as it has been to write, will prove useful in at least this one small aspect.

“Finished?” Malina asks as she enters my bedchamber with a glass of water for me. I gulp it down in a most unladylike fashion before answering.

“I hope so. I was just about to take it to Dmitri for him to look it over again,” I answer, my voice shaking a little. Malina frowns. A dark shadow flits through the back of her gaze and a feeling of foreboding suddenly stirs within me. I have to get to the library.

“Take another glass of water before you go. You’ve been exhausting yourself with this letter.” I obediently wait while she refills the glass, but I can hardly sit still for the anticipation. Fortunately, Malina has picked up on my mood and the glass of water causes only a minute or two of delay before I’m off on a journey through secret passages, using witches’ lights to guide my path and employing my usual “unnatural” stealth.

A number of passages lead to the library, but it is quite large. I may or may not wish to scare Yekaterina by popping out of the unlikeliest of places and may or may not be attempting to select my route accordingly. I stop behind a number of passage doors, listening with my “unnatural” hearing for my fiancé’s and Yekaterina’s voices, before finding the door I want.

“...know not vhy you so difficult. You know she never fully satisfy you,” Yekaterina is saying in the most seductive tone I’ve ever heard her use. My blood boils. “You might as vell try to satisfy desires vit another--”

“And so dishonor my family and break her heart? I would hope you would find me a better man than that,” Dmitri replies, frustration tightly coiled in each word. “Now, Yekaterina, this has absolutely nothing to do with your English lesson--”

“Speaking English vell enough now, no?” I cannot restrain myself any longer and open the passage door to find Yekaterina on Dmitri’s lap. So the rumours spoke true! What else have they been right about? He seems to be trying to make her current seating arrangements as uncomfortable as possible, but the blonde is undeterred. She catches sight of me before he does. A million thoughts rush behind her eyes in an instant. At first she is pale and frightened--caught in the act!--but then she turns brazen. “I show you and her vhat I mean.” I step into Dmitri’s sight just before she takes hold of his chin and brings his lips to hers.

My gut wrenches. I feel like there’s a gaping hole in my chest. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think. Something boils up inside me, and a second later the geyser bursts under Dmitri’s chair, throwing them to opposite sides of their library alcove and probably ruining a fair number of books. Yekaterina hits her head on a bookshelf and lies stunned on the floor. Dmitri seems more or less unharmed, but I cannot bear to talk with him right now. I turn and run from the room, back into the passage, letter to Kyla still tightly clutched in one hand. I suppose I’m sending it without his seal of approval. Such a triviality hardly matters now. I know she forced it, but I can’t believe that he let himself get into that situation. I can’t believe....

“Aerys! Wait! It wasn’t--” Dmitri calls frantically. His footsteps sound like thunder rumbling after me.

“I saw enough,” I reply in a voice like a knife blade. “And heard enough.”

“Then you know I never wanted--”

“I don’t know anything anymore. Your words were in the right place, but your actions told a different story. Haven’t you heard that actions speak louder than words?” I pick up my pace. I can’t deal with this. My insides are crumbling with each step. I have to get away.

“Aerys, please! I was honestly trying--”

“You promised me you would rebuke her! And I come in to find--”

“That the rebuke did absolutely no good. Perhaps your geyser knocked some sense into her. I suppose you’ve given up your game now--”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Nothing matters now. I burst out of a passage and nearly crash into Wesley, who is storming down the hallway with what appears to be a telegraph clutched in his hand.

“Ah, Aerys, what are you doing about? Feeling better, I take it? Excellent. Have you seen my son?” he rushes without giving me time to respond or taking notice of my no doubt flustered appearance. I point wordlessly down the tunnel and step out of the way just as Dmitri barrels out of the passage, almost flattening his father in his haste. “Son! I was on my way to summon you. Come to my office immediately.”

“But I have to--” he protests, eyes darting frantically between Wesley and me.

“No buts about it. I hold copies of the first declarations of war in my hand, boy, and we have much to accomplish before things get serious. Come with me immediately. You can spend time with your fiancée later, after business is taken care of.” Wesley engages a vice-like grip on Dmitri’s arm and drags him down the hall in spite of Dmitri’s continued protests. I melt away into another passage and practically fly back to my bedchamber, tears streaming from my eyes.

Malina is still in the room when I arrive, attending to her usual duties of making sure all of my belongings are in order. She takes one look at me and in an instant is holding me while I sob uncontrollably.

“She will pay for this,” my friend mutters darkly. “We’ll come up with some sort of appropriate punishment for the little home-wrecker. I’ll send this letter for you, too. Everything is going to work out, Aerys.” Small comfort to a grieving heart. I continue sobbing and Malina rubs my back reassuringly.

“Everything will be fine. I know it all seems dark now, but we will find a way to make it light again. Let’s get you calmed down and cleaned up, and then outside for some fresh air. A walk in the gardens might do you good.” I look at Malina hopelessly. How can she possibly think that anything can help at this point? But a gleam in her eyes tells me that she has a plan. Whatever it is, I trust her. What else can I do? She may well be all I have left.