Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,94

looked at Hardane as she murmured the word.

“You don’t believe me?” Carrick said, a challenge rising in his eyes.

“I believe you,” Hardane said. “Tell me, why was Kylene sent to the Motherhouse?”

“To keep her safe.”

“To keep her safe?” Hardane asked suspiciously. “Or to make sure the prophesy would never be fulfilled?”

“To keep her safe,” Carrick repeated emphatically.

“Safe from whom?”

“Her sister.” Carrick gave Kylene’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Selene was always jealous of you. She knew she would always live in your shadow because you were the firstborn twin, the one destined to share the throne of Argone, to fulfill the prophesy that would bring lasting peace to Mouldour. She tried to hurt you on several occasions. Your mother and I thought it was just childhood jealousy until Selene tried to drown you in the bathtub.”

At his words, Kylene’s hand flew to her throat. The bathtub! Of course, it all made sense now. Her horrible fear of water, of drowning. It all came back in a rush, as clear as if it had happened only yesterday instead of years ago.

They’d been playing in the tub, having a contest to see who could stay under the water the longest. It had been Kylene’s turn. She’d been just about to come up when she’d felt Selene’s hands on the back of her head, refusing to let her come up for air. She remembered the horror of it, the awful panic when she realized her sister wasn’t playing. She’d been almost unconscious when her mother lifted her out of the tub. Until now, she’d blocked the whole incident from her mind.

“Soon after that,” her father went on, “we realized there were others who wanted to destroy you so that the prophesy could not be fulfilled, just as we realized that, to keep you safe, we would have to send you away until it was time for you to marry.”

“Are you telling me that you wanted the prophesy to be fulfilled?” Hardane asked. “That you want peace?”

“Aye.”

“You’re lying! Everyone knows that the House of Mouldour has refused all offers of peace, that they have pursued war with a vengeance.”

“Not I.” Carrick met Hardane’s accusing stare. “I have always spoken for peace. It was the main cause of contention between Bourke and myself. He wanted to conquer Argone, to put his bastard daughter on the throne. I refused.”

“And so he took the throne by force,” Hardane mused.

“Yes. With a little help from the Interrogator and the witch of Britha, Bourke managed to steal my throne.”

Hardane grunted softly as he pondered Carrick’s explanation. One thing still troubled him. “Why didn’t Kylene know who she was?”

Carrick shook his head. “Understandably, Kylene was never the same after her sister tried to drown her. I think she refused to acknowledge who she was because it was too painful, or maybe she simply didn’t want to remember.” He shrugged. “As it turned out, it made it that much easier to hide her. She couldn’t remember who she was, and except for the Mother General, no one in the Motherhouse knew who she really was.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Carrick turned to Kylene. “Where’s your sister?”

“I’m not sure. At Mouldour, I would imagine.”

Carrick grunted softly. Holding Kylene’s hand, he glanced over his shoulder at his son-in-law.

“What do you plan to do with me now?”

Slowly, Hardane shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I think we should all get some sleep,” Sharilyn suggested, rising to her feet.

She glanced around the room. Kylene looked to be on the verge of emotional exhaustion. Carrick was thin and pale, obviously not yet fully recovered from his sickness. There were fine lines of pain etched at the corners of Hardane’s mouth and eyes. Of them all, only Jared looked fit and strong.

“I think you’re right,” Hardane agreed, rising to stand beside his mother. “Jared, take Lord Carrick to the brig. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

“The brig!” Kylene protested. “Hardane, he’s my father. I won’t have him locked up.”

“Kylene . . .”

She jumped to her feet, her hands planted on her hips, her eyes defiant.

“If he goes to the brig, I’ll go with him!”

“Very well,” Hardane relented. “Lock him in the aft cabin.”

“Hardane . . .”

“I know he’s your father,” Hardane replied wearily. “But I don’t know whose side he’s on, and until I do, he’ll have to be locked up, at least at night.”

She wanted to argue with him. She would have argued with him if she hadn’t seen the utter weariness in the depths