Through the Archway

Chapter Twenty-Five -- Part One

When she got downstairs for her last morning in Glendale, David wasn't at breakfast. This didn't really surprise Rebekah; she hadn't expected him to have much of an appetite just after his father's death — she thought he might be having breakfast in his room. The thought of him so alone made Rebekah upset. She didn't want to bother him, but she knew it might be the last chance for them to talk in person for a while, since Thomas would likely be watching the archways. She ate quickly.

Rebekah had never been to David's room, but she was sure that she was going to the right place. She stood at the bottom of a spiral staircase that led up to a tower in the castle. It was where he always came from in the morning. As she climbed she wondered why he'd want to be in such a secluded place. Rebekah figured that if she had a brother like Thomas this would be exactly where she'd want to be, too.

Rebekah froze as she reached the top of the staircase. His door was ajar and through the gap she could see a chair overturned inside. Fear and doubt rushed through her mind as the adrenaline kicked into overdrive. The dream of David rushed to the forefront of her mind so suddenly that the force of it nearly knocked her over. Don't be gone, she thought, though somehow she already knew what she would see when the door had opened.

She walked slowly towards the door and stretched out an arm that seemed somehow disembodied to the door pushed it open. The room was a mess, papers were strewn across the floor, all the furniture either on its side or broken into pieces. David wasn't there.

Rebekah turned and rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping several times. There was only one person she could go to now, she had to find Queen Catherine and tell her what Thomas had done. David was gone — and he was going to die just like in the dream.

The tower seemed much taller than it had on the way up. An eternity must have passed, or perhaps it was only a second, in the time that it had taken Rebekah to reach the bottom of the stairwell. She rushed past portraits and sculptures, past the throne room, and into the dining room. Thomas was there still, just as she had expected him to be, waiting to gloat over her discovery of David's absence.

"Where is he?" she demanded in a low voice, deciding then and there to drop the pretense that she didn't know what type of person he was. Thomas turned to her, looking convincingly bewildered. His eyes were bloodshot and they had bags under them, but they were wide and rapt all the same. He raised an eyebrow.

"Where is who?" he asked, in a voice that sounded confused. Rebekah felt her cheeks flush with anger; she wasn't fooled.

"Don't play dumb, Thomas," she hissed, advancing toward him. "Where is he?" Rebekah knew provoking him was foolish, probably the most foolish thing she could do, but she didn't care.

Thomas's face was now an expressionless mask. Rebekah, her fists clenched, wanted nothing more than to punch some shock into it, but thought better. It was better to avoid his rage, for now. She resorted to a cold, hard glare.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Thomas. Rebekah palms hurt; she was sure she was digging her nails into the skin.

"Where is David?" She put one hand on the back of his chair, and the other upon the table. Then she got close, her body radiating hatred in a way it never had; she hoped it burned him. "You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. What have you done with him?"

"Do you really want to know?" his asked, and Rebekah knew from his tone that he was clearly enjoying this. Rebekah pulled away from him and nodded. With great restraint, she pulled back her hand, almost ready to slap him in her own blind anger, but determined to find out the truth. Years of dealing with her father had taught her to control her anger; she laced her fingers in front of her as she had done so many times before, and waited. Thomas stood and sneered at her, his face twisted in horrible triumph.

"Your little hero ran away," Thomas whispered, "He went through an archway because he was too scared to own up to being king someday, too scared to face me personally. Did you expect anything different — from a coward?" Rebekah took a step back. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. David, run away? The idea was ridiculous. But, said a voice in the back of her mind, David wanted to leave. He said it over and over again. He wanted to run away...

"You're lying!" she shouted, although deep down, part of her believed him. A tinkling sound, like porcelain breaking, accompanied by a gasp made Rebekah jump.

Rebekah now understood Thomas's calm composure; in her own fury, she had not realized that there were two people in the far end of the room, nearly hidden in shadow; her own mother, and Queen Catherine. A broken tea cup lay upon the floor between them.

Queen Cynthia was looking at Rebekah in utter shock, as though she had never seen her daughter before; and in a way, she hadn't. Rebekah had never shown this side of herself to her mother before. Queen Catherine had tears in her eyes, but her face was set into an expression of determination. She was nodding to herself, like she was trying to decide upon something. Rebekah knew they had overheard the entire conversation.

Rebekah didn't know what to say. Should she comfort Queen Catherine, or wait for her mother to explode? Instead, she turned to Thomas. It was all she could not to throttle him. "If I find out that this has anything to do with you, I will not hesitate —"

"Rebekah!" Queen Cynthia hissed, sounding afraid. Rebekah ignored her mother, but stared at Thomas in utter loathing. Thomas stared right back.

"What did you do with him?" Rebekah asked, and she could not stop her voice from shaking. She didn't want Thomas to think it was out of fear or sadness — that would mean he had won. She set her jaw, her palms glowed. "If he left, it's because of you! Because you did something to him!"

Get control, she told herself, You'll bring the roof down. She thought about how she had been in the same situation of trying to control her emotions just weeks ago on the mountainside — then, she had been thinking about Will. It was startling to realize he had barely crossed her mind these last few weeks, as she had been so distracted with everything else.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Thomas, snapping her out of her revive. "I had nothing to do with —"

"I wouldn't believe you if never did another horrible thing in your life," she said and the floor shook.

Queen Cynthia stood, her face pale. "Rebekah," she whispered, beckoning to her with a shaking arm. "Please, there's nothing we can do."