Jonathon’s expression drew down into distress. He turned his face away, as if Wynter had attempted to show him some disgusting thing. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, no. We shall smother that one.’ He carefully set two of the documents aside.
‘Mary,’ said Razi. The King and Wynter glanced expectantly at him. ‘Mary,’ he insisted. ‘The Lady Phillipe D’Arden and her child. They have sacrificed all for the Midland Reform. Are we to allow them to fail?’
Jonathon sat back. ‘Phillipe D’Arden, Razi? You have met him?’
‘I . . .’ said Razi, suddenly uncertain again. ‘I have met Mary,’ he said.
Jonathon looked to Wynter. His expression left little doubt that he thought Razi was wandering in his mind. Wynter smiled. ‘In fact, the Lady Mary was in Alberon’s camp, your Majesty. From what I understand, the Lord D’Arden fell victim to the Midland inquisition. The Lady Mary and a Presbyter named Jared came to negotiate in his place.’
‘Phillipe D’Arden is dead?’ breathed Jonathon. ‘Oh no. Oh, what a blow to mankind. Phillipe was an intelligent and wonderful man. I have many of his theses in my library. You should read them, Protector Lady, when you have the chance. An intelligent, wonderful man, much in sympathy with your father.’ Jonathon hung his head. ‘Jesu. Such waste. I will never fail to despair at the destruction so often wrought by those who purport to act for God. One wonders why He simply does not sicken of us. Why He does not simply wipe the earth clean of us, and leave it to the honesty of the lower beasts.’
‘The reformists need your help, Majesty. They need your strength.’
He shook his head. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘No. I cannot. I simply . . . this must end. We must . . . it must be made to go away.’
Wynter leaned in. She placed her hand carefully on his arm. ‘Majesty,’ she said, ‘my father was a great man – a great man. Who, I have come to understand, struggled with a horribly troubled conscience.’
Jonathon’s eyes widened with horror. Wynter did not look away.
‘You and I both know,’ she whispered, ‘that this box, having been opened, cannot again be closed. No matter what memories it may contain.’
The King withdrew his arm from beneath Wynter’s grasp. He shook his head.
‘Of what does the lady speak?’ asked Razi. His father turned to him, searching his curious face with furious concentration. Wynter tentatively replaced her hand on Jonathon’s tightly clenched fist.
‘The Lord Razi has no longer any recollection of what we discuss,’ she said. When Jonathon once again met her eyes and did not withdraw from her touch, she continued gently on. ‘Your Majesty, I understand that a good man must fling those things from him that sully his soul. It is a commendable impulse to cast from us that which we wish not to have done and to bury it so it may never be done again. But perhaps it is the burden of a great king that he face those things which damn him. That he grasp the nettle of a troubled conscience, and think of the betterment of his people. Your Majesty, all your attempts to suppress my father’s machines have only led to disaster. To deny their existence now is folly, for there was no turning back once you drew them once more into the open. You cannot allow your own past to destroy you, your Majesty. You cannot allow it to destroy this kingdom. You are a king, and you must steel yourself to carry the heavy burden of a king.’
All the danger went from Jonathon’s face. He was, for a brief moment, just a man. A desolate man, desperately haunted. ‘Nothing good has ever come of those machines, child. They have paved my way to hell.’
‘Whatever you have done, your Majesty, is done already. The future of your kingdom lies in what you choose to do next.’
Jonathon slid his gaze to the documents pertaining to the Midland Reform. Reluctantly, he moved his hand to them. ‘Perhaps the mere sight of Lorcan’s designs could be enough to strengthen the reformists’ cause? Perhaps something may be done, without recourse to actually . . .’ He placed the reform documents back with the others. His fingers lingered on them a moment. ‘Shall we see, Lorcan, what good might come of the evil we wrought?’
Wynter looked at his troubled, heavy face. The evil we wrought. The King closed his eyes and wearily ran his hand through