In Which Dalston Is Truly Sorry

January 24, 1162

As Dalston caught sight of the person seated on the couch in his study, all he could feel was the wave of utter relief at the fact that Celina and the children were visiting at Veldora for the day; he did not wish to risk a meeting between any of them and this uninvited guest. He already felt bad enough that he had not been home the last time she had called, in order to prevent her from disturbing his wife.

"Dalston," Geneva greeted him curtly, unusually hesitant to meet his eye; was it possible that she actually did feel somewhat guilty about their past encounter?

"Geneva," he replied in a similar fashion. "I must say, I was quite surprised when Celina informed me that you were actually alive."

She shrugged, as though she deemed the fact that nearly two entire kingdoms believed her dead to be insignificant. "Life is full of surprises."

"Yes, but why are you here?" demanded Dalston while Geneva pulled herself to her feet in order to meet his eye as best she could. Geneva was not the sort of person who preferred to stand when a seat was available--whatever it was that she wanted from him, it appeared that she considered it at least marginally important.

He silently prayed that it wasn't sex.

But those violet eyes held a rare sobriety he had never seen them house before, he realized as she inclined her head. For an instant, she was no longer Queen Geneva of a Thousand Lovers, the woman who had shamed his king and all but destroyed his marriage. As he stared into her troubled gaze, whatever she had become melted away; she was simply his young cousin again, and something was troubling her.

"I've been calling at Tetran for the past few months, at nightfall," she confessed. "I don't wish to disturb Octavius, but it seems that Medea is never in her room, and I find it difficult to believe that she is frequenting his. I confronted the steward a few times, but all he would tell me was where to stick it. I wouldn't dare approach Roderick, since the last thing he needs is my reappearance when he's so content with his other wife, and I realize that Severin and Alina have lost all respect for me, and... well, you already know about Celina. I figured if anyone would tell me what was going on, it would be you."

She was right; in this instance, he was all she had. Perhaps it was a sort of poetic justice--so tragically right that he should be the one to ruin her life, just as she had ruined his--but Dalston was not the poetic sort. No one he knew could make sense of such things, no matter how they applied pretty words or meter or themes, nor had anyone any idea as to right way to tell such news.

"Geneva..." he began awkwardly, biting his tongue in his frenzied search for words. "I'm surprised you haven't heard by now; the people are talking about it, I'm sure. You see... Medea's been dead for a week now."

If only there had been another way to say it--or if there had been, if only he could have found it. She didn't scream or cry or insist that he was lying to her; she merely stared in stunned silence, which to Dalston sounded worse than even the most piercing wails of the most anguished of souls.

"A week?" repeated Geneva at last.

Solemnly, Dalston nodded. "She went quite mad after you left, you see. It started off slowly--little things, like her forgetting to do her hair or walking around in her nightgown, losing her ability to keep names and relations straight--but then it got to the point where she tried to kill Octavius and the twins, so they detained her, and then... well, she went through the window. I don't know if she wanted freedom or death or what; all I know is that I am truly sorry for your loss."

And he was. In the end, Medea had been the only one who loved Geneva, and Geneva had always been the only one who loved Medea. It seemed that now, they were both thoroughly alone, in completely separate worlds.

Without so much as a parting embrace as per her usual physical manner, she brushed right past him on her way to the door. "I imagine she is buried at Tetran?"

"Yes," he answered softly.

Geneva nodded, placing her hand on the doorhandle. "Thank you."

NEXT CHAPTER: