RE: Monarch

Dinner was a rushed, blurry affair. I remember the tastes—a never-ending parade of spice, pastry, and perfectly cooked meat, washed down with the finest wine I'd tasted since my rebirth—all consumed in brief portions between words of reminiscence.
Yet somehow the telling itself was more refreshing than the feast. I'd been telling some variation of the story for years, always leaving off details, spinning it one way or another and abridging where necessary. Something about unburdening it all to an attentive audience was a balm on my soul.
And sure, there was no way to tell
. Death's ephemeral hold was as forbidden a topic as it ever was, but with the scapegoat of 'visions' that aided explaining away some of the tighter situations we'd somehow wiggled out of unscathed, I'd wager they had a better handle on the series of events that led to this moment than anyone else living.
Though my heart ached in the telling, it was warming to share the stories and sacrifices of Bacchus, Ralakos, Veldani, and Nethtari.
And through it all, Maya was right there with me. Chiming in at the perfect time, elucidating little details I'd missed that brought the story into tighter focus and added clarity. In a strange moment, it occurred to me that the retelling wasn't nearly as grim as I'd expected. Because of the nature of my curse, we had to stick primarily to the successes. Looking at what we'd accomplished, and how close some of those calls were, it was strange, but I felt fortunate despite the losses.
Because we were still standing.
Sparse shadows of afternoon stretched into evening. We left the warm hearth of the dining hall for the cool breeze of the quadrangle, lounging on plush cushions beneath the gazebo's white roof. The wood creaked softly as we settled, a comfortable sound that reminded me of ships at harbor. I drank because the others were drinking—which was partially my fault, both Lucius and Millicent's glasses tipping more heavily during the stressful moments in the narrative—and by the time the first stars gave light, I was deeper in my cups than perhaps the entirety of my second life.
By the time I finished, Lucius was staring at the wooden floor, slack-jawed. "It's too great a coincidence. For a member of the very society he hailed from to come question Desiric, only for him to die a month later. All fingers point to Thaddeus."
"Do they though?" Maya asked, a thoughtful look on her face as her arm brushed against mine, warmth seeping through the thin fabric.
"The arch-mage. She certainly sounds capable of it." Millicent breathed, her forehead scrunched in focus. With practiced ease, she reached out and caught Lucius's wandering hand, placing it on her knee and squeezing gently. "Speak before the thoughts pour out your ears."
"It's just difficult to wrap my mind around." He looked up, mentally calculating. "Barion, Thaddeus, Desiric, and presumably Thoth, all at one point part of a clandestine organization dedicated to stopping bloody Ragnarok. Which by any reasonable metric should be a
thing. This is… complicated. What a waste." Lucius's mouth turned downward. "All that power and she squanders it being a twat."
I realized he was struggling with many of the same questions I had, before the path had been made clear. I rapped the table with two knuckles for emphasis, the sound sharper than expected in the evening air. "No matter what happens, Thoth has to go. She has to. Regardless of the power she could offer, or who did what, or why, however you look at it, she is the fly in the ointment. Some enemies cannot be reasoned with or managed. The metamorphosis society couldn't control her and they created her—she's been actively hunting them down for longer than we've even known they existed. And the only reason she's worried about ley lines at all is because it cramps future plans."
There was a charged silence before Millicent spoke. "What she did was heinous. That girl did nothing to harm her. Your friend was a commoner, not a member of the nobility."
Maya winced, then sat very still. All eyes turned to me.
Long as it had festered, the wound itself was mostly healed. It was the fear that dug its claws into me whenever her name was invoked—fear that slowly attached itself to a different face. I pushed it down, tried to ignore it.
The fear tightened around my chest, squeezing like icy fingers. I felt Maya's gaze and avoided it. "A kinder, fairer Uskar is the only way forward. After Thoth is dead, the aim is reparations. Ceding seized territories, especially those with religious or cultural significance. Creating a ruling council of kings and leaders, where all voices may be heard, concerns voiced, and conflicts can be resolved through negotiation and maneuvering instead of bloodshed."
"That's quite the jump. From where we are to the version of the world you envision." Lucius's brow rose. "How would we even get there?"
I hid a smirk. "No idea. That's what I need you for."
Lucius held up a finger, which wilted as he cocked his head, then stammered. "What the fu—"
"—The prince of Whitefall is hinting at the possibility of advancement in the form of a position within his retinue." Millicent cut in, her voice sharp and precise as she addressed her husband, mouth hidden behind her wineglass. "Consider it carefully."
"Ambitious as ever." I smiled.
"That's what you're doing?" Lucius's jaw worked, and he finished the rest of his wine in one long pull.
"Despite doubting literally every word from the arch-fiend's mouth, I don't get the sense she's overselling the threat of Ragnarok. Therefore, if we're all going to band together and pool our resources with intentions of eventually putting up that fight? We need to lay the framework
"
The boy I'd first met in a cage stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "As astronomically stupid as it is to say this—Desiric must be rolling in his grave—my life is here. Furthermore, it'd be a terrible idea to put me in charge of anything. My knowledge of the nobility is hardly expansive. And while it's true, I have a better handle on nonhumans than the average leader, it's nothing impressive. Highly region dependent."
"Why are the light elves so ornery lately?" Millicent suddenly complained, the corner of her mouth turning upward in a barely perceptible smile.
Lucius gave her a sidelong look. "Do you mean light elves or wood elves?"
She shrugged. "Six of one, half dozen of the other."
The resulting sigh was immediate and exasperated. "They're very different. We've talked about this before—wood elves are nomadic, and worship the spirits that influence and inhabit nature. Light elves mainly stick around and rebuild ruins of their old civilization."
"But don't they both pray to spirits?" Millie said, with an intense expression of faux-puzzlement.
Catching on, Maya stifled a laugh behind her hand.
Lucius happily launched into a full explanation. "Sort of. Wood elves worship the spirits of nature, light elves worship the spirits of their ancestors and cultivate their abilities in places of power. Other than the nomadic part they used to be a lot more homogenized until the late elf…" His eyes slid to me. "…Patriarch forbade the practice of drawing power from nature-bound spirits hundreds of years ago."
"Just call him an emperor." I waved away the concern. As the leader of the dark elves was referred to as an empress regularly, it seemed ridiculous not to refer to the light elf equivalent by the same title he'd always been called, simply because he lived within the bounds of the continent.
"That would be treason." Lucius pointed out.
"I won't tell."
"Fine." He rolled his eyes. "All this to say, the light elves are
because more than a year ago, the current emperor visited an undisclosed temple, supposedly one of their oldest, to meditate and seek the counsel of a late emperor buried nearby. He entered a state of deep communion… which is, allegedly, where he remains, to this very day. Alive but incapacitated. Something about the… uh… spirit link, whatever, magic bond between the emperor and the temple, prevents them from moving him. Understandably, it would be a bad idea to announce the temporary dwelling of your immobile-and-highly vulnerable leader, so only a handful of the most loyal know his location. Anyone spot the problem?"
"'Yes, the emperor is alive. He's fine. No, you can't speak to him. Sorry, there's nowhere to go to confirm his status. Trust us. He's definitely alive.'" Maya shook her head. "That's a losing game. Either a lie or too flimsy a truth to withstand the test of time. The skeptical will come looking, as will bad actors eager to fill the vacuum regardless of what is true. If they're telling the truth about him, and the deep communion does not end soon, the emperor is likely to become a casualty."
"My thoughts as well. And as much as the light elves might lead you to believe they're one big, organized community, there are many factions born out of what were once tribes. When the last emperor died, it took nearly a decade before those factions came to a working agreement. Hopefully, he wakes up and gets a good stretch in before they turn the knives to him." Lucius paused, awkward, realizing how much he'd spoken. "None of this is some big secret. Just bits and pieces I've picked up from those I've spoken to."
"It was new to me." Maya watched Lucius curiously. "It's relatively known that the emperor has been… displaced… for some time, but those specifics are not common knowledge."
"As you can see, he protests too much." Millicent extended an arm toward her husband, palm up, as if presenting him to prospective buyers. "His work with Kholis speaks for itself. People share information with him freely because by some grand irony he appears trustworthy—"
"—Hey—" Lucius interrupted, scowling.
"—they tell him their fears and needs, and gods damn him, he actually listens. Comes up with practical solutions that fix both the short-term problem and the long-term application."
Lucius touched his forehead. "Wife, please don't auction me off while I'm sitting right here."
I shrugged and leaned back against the railing, the weathered wood rough beneath my palms. "Personally, I'm already sold. You clearly have an eye for economic strategy. Circumstances aside, my early misstep with the infernals was stumbling in without full knowledge of what I could offer and leverage. We needed the sacred flame to repair the dimension gate. Having more to offer along the way would have greased the wheels a great deal. Potentially shaved years off."
His face shifted, rife with conflict. "It's an honor to be asked. Truly. But I promised to take better care of this place than my father did."
"You already have," his wife said.
"Yes, but to abandon it now—"
"You don't have to choose." I said. It was all too easy to envision Lucius studying a map alongside my sister, both working through their varying preferred methods to reorganize and unite the kingdom. "Your role would be one of research and broad strategy. Economic development. Long-term projects you can work on at your leisure."
His brow furrowed. "Only if they fail, the world will end."
I cleared my throat, feeling the distant warmth of the town's evening bonfire radiating against my side. "Nothing so binary. There's a good chance it happens anyway. Might be wiser to just take the knowledge that our days are numbered and live it up as much as you can—charter a ship, take a few voyages and see the world while it lasts."
The last vestiges of sunlight teetered on the horizon, orange crescent waning by the moment. Something about the quality of light seemed off, as if filtered through smoke.
"I don't want to stand there at the end of all things and think about all the ways I could have helped but didn't. When it's over, I want to be at peace with the knowledge that I did everything in my power to stop it. Even if it wasn't enough and we failed."
There was a long silence as the edge of the sun disappeared.
Lucius looked to his wife, and when she nodded, back to me. "It may take a while to wrap my head around all of this. We'll need to speak about it in private. But I have, occasionally, considered what it might look like if the rest of the region followed suit. I'll need to brush up, hire a few subject matter and geographical experts. If you're
insistent it has to be me."
"I insist. Absolutely."
The drinks and spirits flowed more easily as the evening degenerated. Lucius's over-serious, curmudgeonly demeanor brought out my impish side, which in turn egged on his sternness. With the appointment locked down, Millicent had visibly relaxed. She and Maya now sat hip to hip on the long chaise, conversing easily, voices sometimes dipping down into whispers punctuated by soft laughter.
Lucius stood before us, an actor's mask covering his nose and eyes in one hand, wineglass in the other. The monologue was recited poignantly, with a dash of melodrama. "If I did not see the tall trees, nor tread the gentle tufts of grass, the stone would still grant respite. Now it is cold. Lifeless. Because I have seen what could be and the paltry remains will never grant me succor." He practically growled the last word.
I applauded along with Maya. "Well done."
"It's better when you clear the grit out of your throat first," his wife added.
Maya leaned forward on her cushion, still attentive. "What happened to him? The man in the story?"
Lucius lowered the mask from his face and tossed it onto a nearby table with a theatrical flourish. "Odium? He, uh, just kept being a miserable prick for the most part."
"That's a little uncharitable," I said.
He rolled his eyes at me. "You're gonna make the argument that Odium was a hero?"
No. By any reasonable modern standard, he was a monstrous, jealous prick. But the depiction was interesting, and more nuanced than Lucius implied. "I'm just budgeting ignorance to a fool. The funny part is, despite his aspersions to the contrary in this section of the play, Odium hasn't even hit rock bottom yet. He thinks he has, with the self-pitying monologues and razored tongue directed skyward, but he's not there. Not even close."
"It can always get worse." Millicent studied the depths of her wineglass with growing despair.
"The golden rule of the theater," Lucius agreed.
There was a tug on my sleeve, gentle but insistent. I turned my head, spirits blurring my vision. Sharp violet overtook the entirety of my sight, and Maya stepped inward, a thoughtful expression underpinned by something I couldn't quite place. Her breath warmed my cheek as she whispered in my ear.
"Should we go?"
The words stirred something in me, even as I pushed it down—a mix of anticipation and fear and something else entirely.
I rubbed her arm, thumb tracing small circles through the fabric. "It's barely midnight, and these two show no signs of slowing down."
"It would be rude to leave?" She wrung her hands once, out of view of the others. "I'm less familiar with the etiquette in more casual settings."
Actually, I'd always found midnight to be an ideal time to part ways, if said ways were meant to be parted. If we'd begged off right then, embraced our friends and said our farewells, there'd be no offense given.
"Let's give it another couple hours, at least."
Maya agreed, though disappointment flickered across her features. Lucius's gaze remained on me as Maya returned to the shared chaise where Millicent welcomed her back with a friendly hug and asked an unheard question, then listened as the infernal whispered something in her ear. Shortly after, Millicent turned the full focus of her gaze on Lucius. "Imagine, for example, if Odium were to be denied wine. A particularly beautiful wine that sparkled like forming ice beneath a river's surface. Because his husband found the cost-to-value proposition unseemly. Then one day, Odium's friends brought several bottles of said wine, which were as delicious as believed and drained dry twice as quickly. After all was said and done, it was gone. Who would not shed a tear for poor Odium?"
"I think my wife wants more wine," Lucius deadpanned.
Millicent smiled. "What an ungenerous interpretation."
"It's taking some mental adjustment to imagine Odium with a stodgy husband," I admitted.
"Or with friends, for that matter." Lucius scoffed. He'd risen to his feet and drew a coat from a nearby closet, giving his wife a generous helping of side-eye throughout. "You were right. Yes, the wine is delicious. No, I don't think it's ridiculously priced having tried it. And yes, I wouldn't mind having more."
"Won't the shops be closed?" Maya asked.
"They will." Lucius snapped his pocket watch open, then closed again with a decisive click. He pulled a considerable keyring off a nearby hook and withdrew a heavy-looking purse. "But Vin's always looking to make a sale, and he knows I'll pay the after-closing up charge." He glanced at me. "Coming?"
/////
The size of the purse Lucius readily left at the abandoned counter should have served as an early warning. Still, I was somewhat astonished by the size of the cask. A large, brittle-looking barrel too wide to fit through the front door. Upon discovery of that limitation, we'd awkwardly maneuvered it backward the way we came, through the many shelves, through the storeroom, through a much wider service door we'd somehow missed in the shadowy interior.
Once we were back on the main road, we rolled it. The wood groaned with each rotation, and I could hear wine sloshing inside like a restless sea. We drew the occasional attention of mounted guards who approached torch in hand, growing close enough to spot their Duke off on a late-night adventure, at which point they returned to their patrol with barely concealed amusement.
Lying on its side, the barrel was tall enough that I had trouble seeing over it.
"Just… to be clear…" I grunted, lowering my shoulder and heaving against the barrel, "there is no world in which we finish this tonight."
"Gods no. Spare me that hangover." Lucius tugged at the other side of the barrel with enthusiasm that far exceeded his actual contribution. His face was growing red, veins standing out on his neck. "Rather than excess, this is an investment. One that will keep Millicent happy well into winter."
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"Let's catch our breaths here." I pushed hard on the left side, steering us into a small indent beside a hitching post. The barrel wobbled dangerously before settling.
"Great." Lucius collapsed onto the curb, head tilted up toward the stars as he huffed for air. His pulse was visible in his neck, gradually slowing until it disappeared. He picked at something I couldn't make out in his palm.
"For someone who just happened to be the only viable dancing option nearby, Millicent was quite the find."
He huffed, a bead of sweat on his cheek catching the light of an evening sconce. "What happened to 'don't fall in love with the first woman to look your way?'"
"Generally reasonable advice. Doesn't mean I'm not glad you found the exception."
"As am I." A smile played across his lips. "Your warning never strayed far from my mind. I was cautious of her those first few months. More than I should have been. Kept worrying about what she was trying to get out of me. What her angle was. But she kept showing up, even when I was dismissive, or short."
"You've always been short."
"Shut up." Lucius rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to finish or not?"
"Go ahead."
His brow furrowed. "When taking on my father's role became too much, and I just needed someone to talk to? She was there. When I was aggrieved, or lonely. She just happened to stop by. When I was overwhelmed, she just sat down, rolled up her sleeves, and helped fix it."
It resonated immediately.
"Once you have someone like that, it's impossible to imagine life without them."
"Exactly." Lucius mused, eyes distant with recollection. "I knew I loved her. Eventually I decided it didn't matter if she loved me back. She wasn't pushing for marriage, or exploiting me. And if she was doing it all for the purposes of seeking a writ of nobility, so what?" He flicked a pebble off the curb, sending it careening into a grassy embankment with a soft thud. "Nobles marry to further their own agendas more often than not. Why hold it against some commoner girl trying to do the same?"
"So you took the leap."
He nodded. "Did it all. Courted, exchanged our vows, moved her into the manor with me. Nothing changed. I loved her and, in my mind, she did a wonderful job acting as if she loved me." He frowned. "Gods, I'd love a smoke."
I reached into the side pocket of my satchel, removing my pipe. "Vurseng?"
"Not my preference."
"Have it your way." I dragged my thumb across the ground herbs, leaving a scattering of purple embers. I raised the jade mouthpiece to my lips and drew deeply, letting the bitter air fill my lungs, sharp like the smell of pine needles on a winter morning.
"Fine, give it here." Lucius relented.
"It's not to your taste."
"Give it—" He snatched the pipe from my fingers, giving the purple flames a long evaluation before relenting. He took a long draw from the pipe. An explosion of coughs ripped from his lungs, his whole body convulsing. I took it back before it could be accidentally overturned. "Petty bastard."
"Was that the end of it? The tale of you and Millicent?" I asked, watching him curiously.
"No." Lucius admitted, still catching his breath. "Over time, I got more and more… entrenched in my projects. Desiric would fill the ears of whoever we sent to look after him with lies and half-truths, going far enough to call my legitimacy into question, so before the work became overwhelmingly demanding, it was my job to tend to him. Millicent took that work, and unknowingly to me, the abuse that came with it. And she withstood that treatment for months until she finally broke down and told me. To this day, she has only told me portions of the things he said to her, and those alone invoked rage."
"And he mistreated none of his other caretakers?"
Lucius shook his head. "Not one. Just bent their ears with conspiracy and sedition."
I sat down next to him, lights of the town reflected in the puddle near our feet. The surface rippled despite the absence of wind. "It wasn't your fault. Or Millicent's. Bitter old men rarely relinquish power with grace."
He shook his head minutely. "She listened to that fat fuck slip needles beneath her nails. Endured cruel insults day after day. Eventually, he wore her down, and one day she just couldn't. Obviously that put an end to it. I went back to sending guards and servants—rotating a smaller group, less susceptible to bullshit. From that day on, we didn't speak about Desiric. Not until his funeral. Was just sitting there, trying to muster a few kind words for the eulogy. And I look to her, like always when I'm speaking in public. Only she's… weeping. Red eyes, trembling, hands clasped on her lap like she's barely holding on. It doesn't make sense. If anyone should have hated that bastard, it was her. And then it hits me."
"She wasn't mourning for the duke at all," I realized.
"Right. Millicent was mourning for me. For my loss. Complicated as it was." Lucius swiped at his nose. "It stopped being a question after that. Whether or not she loved me. And this part of me I didn't even realize was holding back stopped having a reason to hold back anymore."
"Fortune smiles upon you, old friend." I clapped him on the back and stood, rolling up my sleeves. The night air felt cooler against my exposed skin.
"What's holding you back?"
The question lashed out like a whip.
I turned, gripping both sides of the barrel. "Regarding what?"
"Maya." Lucius answered simply. "First picked up on it on the way here, but it seemed even more obvious tonight. Something's off between the two of you."
Annoyed, I lowered my shoulder and began to move the barrel on my own. The wood protested with a sharp crack. "We were only just recently reunited. There's going to be an adjustment period."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were terrified."
I picked up the pace, gravel crunching beneath my boots. "You'd be wrong."
"That's why you're fleeing from this conversation?" Lucius called after. The insult, more casual than direct, hit its mark.
"Not fleeing, distancing. Because this is an awkward exchange regarding matters that are none of your business."
There was a silence as Lucius briefly jogged to get in front of the barrel, nearly tripping over his own feet before retaking his original position. "Perhaps I was overly familiar."
I kept pushing, grip tightening on the sides of the barrel as we pushed it over the gentle arc of a stone bridge. The old wood creaked beneath our combined weight. It seemed so pointless to speak these petty problems aloud. To give any time at all to the friction between a man and a woman when the fate of the world hung in flux. On the other side of the bridge, the cask picked up speed. When we finally yanked it to a stop, there was an audible crack that echoed in the quiet street.
With my help, Lucius turned it over, fingers searching the surface for leaks.
"Looks fine." He murmured, though his hand lingered on a hairline fracture. "We're probably going to want to carry it from here."
"You weren't overly familiar." I finally managed, the words sounding unimpressive as they left my lips. "Nor were you wrong."
There was something hard in his expression. "Are you hesitating because the two of you aren't right for each other?"
"No. It's not
at all."
"This have something to do with the girl you lost?" Lucius asked. The question cut deep.
"Of course it does." I leaned on the cask for support, the wood cool beneath my palms. "She was my only friend in Whitefall. One I'd intended to watch over. And Thoth just…" I snapped my fingers, the sound sharp in the night air. "Like that. And now I'm here, wrestling with this thing in my gut that's practically screaming how all that was done to someone who didn't even register as a threat."
Lucius chewed his lip. "And if she did that to an innocent, what would she do to someone dear to you who is
sitting on the sidelines?"
"Yes."
My friend squinted into the night, and for a moment I thought I saw his breath mist in the air. "Based on your story, I think that ship has already sailed. Any chance Maya had of living a normal life disappeared when she followed you to Whitefall. She's linked to you now. Irreversibly."
"I know."
"So she's already in danger. Unfortunate as it is, Thoth doesn't seem to need much of an excuse. The die is cast, and the risk already taken. If being together is something you both want, you're just hurting yourself by holding back."
Beneath the winding expanse of the starry night sky, I felt utterly alone. The stars themselves seemed dimmer than they should be, as if veiled.
My teeth ground together. "Pain now could be worth avoiding the share to be paid later. Every so often I'm in the right place at the right time. Maybe a little more than the average person. But I can't be there every time. There will come a day that she needs me and I cannot heed her call."
Lucius's pale smile was grim. "Every person who's ever stepped beyond the boundary of themselves and shared a life with someone has taken that risk."
"But Thoth—"
"Thoth—what?" He waved a dismissive hand, nearly losing his balance. "The arch-mage isn't some she-devil lurking behind every shadow, even if her reach is long. People die for all sorts of reasons. Famine. Disease. Violence that's got nothing to do with them. And in case you weren't paying attention to your own story, we don't really have that much time before it all falls apart anyway."
I shifted my head. "You're taking that surprisingly well, by the way."
"Am I?"
"Definitely. No screaming, no existential crisis."
He pointed at me with a wry smile. "The second part will come later, once the wine has worn off." His expression grew stoic. "In truth, I've always felt as if there was something wrong with… everything. Ever since I climbed those stairs out of Barion's basement, it never stopped feeling… well… temporary. And dangerous. Like a mill with too much flour in the air. Guess it doesn't really come as a surprise." His gaze grew sharp. "What's amazing to me is despite knowing all that, you're jumping on the first excuse I gave you to leave that fantastic girl back at the manor."
The night felt colder somehow, and the shadows seemed to press closer. "I'm not sure what will happen to me if I lose her."
"That's the deal. That's how it works." Lucius took several unsteady steps into the street and made a wide, theatrical gesture that nearly sent him tumbling. "Millicent made me better than I was. Enchanted my attention and perception of the cultures that surround me, as well as the lives and plights of those I'm responsible for. Taught me to come across as confident instead of smug, stood strong with me through every hardship. I've changed so much that if she was gone, I'm not sure who I'd be either. But I'd still be a helluva lot better off than if she'd never set foot in my life at all."
"So it's worth it, is what you're saying."
"Without a doubt. Even if every so often it means coming out here at ungodly hours, pilfering casks from wineries."
He seemed recovered, so I retook my position and grunted, turning the barrel onto its side. Lucius bent low to lift from the bottom, his knees popping audibly, and I did the same.
"So you're going to stop being an idiot now?" He grunted, raising his side of the barrel first. His arms shook with the effort.
I rose to meet him. "You've given me plenty to think about."
/////
By the time we returned to the duke's manor, there was an unmistakable feeling that the party had ended. A servant wiping her hands with a light rag paused near the mana lamp in the kitchen, watching us with barely concealed amusement as we struggled through the doorway. I glimpsed our better halves through the wide entryway to the living room.
They'd moved back inside—likely due to the chill that had crept into the air. Now Millicent was strewn across the chaise, one arm draped over her forehead, while Maya rocked quietly beside her, features relaxed in an expression of contemplation. But that wasn't what caught my eye, what stopped me mid-step.
Her mouth was full, free of the frown and nibbled worry of her lower lip. The quiet question her eyebrows always pondered finally seemed answered. The tensions of worry and stress had melted away. She'd steepled her hands over her lap, one leg folded over the other, as she rocked back and forth in slow rhythm.
I'm not sure I'd ever seen her look more at peace.
The moment stretched on as I willed it to, etching the image into memory. I wanted to remember, no matter how long our journey stretched on, regardless of years passing by. Because it was almost certainly temporary. I would see it again. Whatever it took. That was my promise. On a day not so long from now, she would know that peace again.
Lucius let out a pained grunt. "Oi, dickhead. Move already, my fingers are gonna break."
"Right." The jibe spurred me on. The manor's corridors were dim as we maneuvered the dark hallways, my eyes naturally gravitating toward the darkest shadows. A thought occurred—an obvious one that still bore mention. Regarding how much, exactly, Lucius had to lose. Nearly as much as I had. "Clearly we've all had a bit too much to drink. If there are second thoughts in the morning, feel free to voice them."
"No need. Our fate is set, and the die is cast. With luck, the bards will tell tales of the prosperous alliance of House Timbermour and House Valen born this night that ushered in a golden age." Lucius said, a slight grimness creeping into his voice.
"Or we'll all die terribly."
"Then again, maybe I should rethink my allegiance—oh
" He swore, dropping his end of the barrel entirely. I caught it despite the bad angle, leveraging the strength of my left arm and hoisting it over my shoulder. The weight sent a familiar ache through the demonic limb. He squinted at me in annoyance. "Was it worth it?"
"A soul for the arm?"
"Yes."
"Not really." I glanced at the fingers of my dark hand as we maneuvered the barrel into Lucius's cellar. "The color pattern severely limits my aesthetic options, and in the summers I can't wear anything with shortened sleeves."
"My heart goes out to you."
"Jest aside. Open-minded and accepting as you are, I'd advise caution should demons ever darken your doorstep. They'll play against your expectations. Act in ways that grant them more semblance of humanity. But when it comes time to make a deal, the proposition will not be worth the cost."
"You're a fine king already."
"Hm?"
"'Do as I say, not as I do.'" Lucius joked. Then his voice grew serious. "In truth, if there was any part of me that wondered after the dark corners in this world, it likely died in Barion's basement. Shameful as it is to say, I have no thirst for battle, or blood. Naturally I will defend my homestead if threatened. And I'll accept the summons should Whitefall call for me. And if you order me to dismount and fight, I'll do my bloody best not to make an embarrassment of myself. But…"
"You'd rather not be involved directly," I filled in.
"Is that… craven?"
I shook my head. "Darkness branded us when we were very young. Of all the outcomes, coming out of that experience more wary of violence is likely the best you could have hoped for."
"Yet…" Lucius's eyes slid away. "Some would consider my earlier words to have uh… implications… of treason."
Ah. That was why he was unsettled.
"Just because we are aligned does not make some of the king's outdated beliefs and practices any less unreasonable. Not every lord should be expected to fight. Nor should the safety and security of his holdings be threatened simply because he is slow to wield a blade." I studied him over the barrel as we set it down, looking for anything that resembled regret or reluctance, finding only thoughtfulness instead. "Though I appreciate you bringing it to my attention now, rather than after we are entrenched in conflict."
"Figured it was only reasonable."
"It is. Yet you'd be surprised how often men don't bother voicing misgivings until they're staring down the battlefield."
We set the barrel down on the dry stone of the cellar, beside several other casks. The temperature was noticeably cooler down here, and the cooler air was a relief after our labor. Rubbing the ache from his hands, there was something about Lucius's posture that looked perplexed. Almost as if he was trying to work through how to say something difficult.
I waited at the foot of the stairs. "Coming?"
"What you said about being branded." He looked down at the ring on his left hand, the metal catching the dim light. "That's why it's important. Because the darkness stays with us. It's never gone." The duke shuddered. "No matter what I did that first year, it was always there, looming over me. The screaming from the ones who didn't make it. Realizing… what happened to them… after seeing that
Barion kept feeding in the woods." Despite obvious difficulty, he pushed through. "It was like a cloud that hung over my head that grew more prominent by the day."
"Enter Millicent."
Lucius rolled his eyes as he took the stairs two at a time, waiting at the top for me to catch up. "Hold the bards. It wasn't just the romance."
"Guessing it didn't hurt."
"It didn't. Thinking about the future, about the life I wanted to build with her—the family we'd one day have—it was the only thing that worked. That kept the darkness at bay. Made it smaller and gave it less hold over me. It's harder to focus on the future if you're too caught up in being angry with what happened to you. I guess, around that time, I realized I was holding onto it as much as it was holding onto me. And I let go."
"The world would be a kinder place if all anger was so easily quenched. I'm glad you found your peace. Truly." The cellar seemed to grow even colder as I spoke, and for a moment, I was certain I saw my breath.
His elbow jammed into my side, stirring me from the dark mood. "Not telling you all this to tickle my own ego, asshole." Lucius's mouth twisted in irritation. "I'm trying to toss a rope. To both of you. Ragnarok is on the horizon. Stop wasting time. She deserves better." To his credit, he barely slurred until the end.
"Gods, you're a fussy drunk." I mussed his hair, and he shoved my forehead in retaliation.
"I'm not a child." He groused, fiddling with his affronted bangs.
"Just earnest like one."
"Fuck off." He opened the door and stumbled through, the drink accosting him more readily now that our task was finished. "Need to… rouse the wife…"
I slid underneath his arm, propping him up. "Your King is here to serve."
Millicent was still lying on her back on the chaise when we returned, mouth slightly open in an irregular snore. Maya put a hand over her mouth, hiding the laughter no doubt directed at Lucius. "Did the two of you never stop drinking?"
"I did." Lucius, who was hanging off my shoulder, seemed to have psychically traveled to another plane. "Someone decided to have a nightcap at the winery. What happened to her?" He inclined his head toward Millicent.
"Hard work, mostly." Maya smiled down at the sleeping lady. "The first half of your absence we spent discussing the logistics of Kholis."
"And the second half?"
"Our dear host attempted to educate me in the art of romantic entanglement with a noble." Maya pushed a stray hair out of Millicent's face, her hand lingering appreciatively. "At least until she lost the battle."
"We should get them settled."
I offloaded Lucius onto a lush chair beside the chaise, where he immediately listed to one side, muttering something about decorum. A brief search of the nearby chest yielded several fur blankets. I handed one to Maya, then stretched the other over the duke's plush chair, leaving only his head uncovered.
"You're a dickhead," Lucius murmured, though his eyes were already closing. "Staying away for so long."
"I was a ward," I reminded him.
"Just… don't do it… again…"
/////
I'd forgotten how beautiful cities could be once the sun was long gone. The brusque chill in the air, empty roads filled with muddy tracks of wagons long departed. Among the torches and orange light of candles behind curtained windows, the knotted fiber of the heartwood trees seemed to pulse with inner light, giving the stone paths and buildings an almost ephemeral glow.
Maya hopped between cobblestones with practiced grace, then up onto the stone circle of the central fountain. She took several careful, cat-like steps around its perimeter, arms outstretched for balance, until the toe of her shoe landed on a damp patch. Slipping, arms pinwheeling in panic, she was doomed to fall headfirst into the watery depths before the aegis flickered into existence beneath her, halting the fall. She toppled onto it, ensuring nothing was hurt.
Then suddenly, she laughed. A sound so joyous and delighted it made my chest ache. The laughter stretched on, filling the empty square, echoing off the stone buildings until it faded to chuckles and she wiped tears from her eyes.
"A fountain denied," I smiled.
"Indeed." Maya sat up on the aegis as I maneuvered it, adjusting herself more comfortably. The straps of her dress had slipped down her shoulders. Something about the way she sat, one leg tucked beneath the other, hair slightly askew, had me meditating cross-legged before the monastery as the monks poured boiling oil off the palisades, burning me to nothing. "Who knew? All this time I've had my own personal palanquin."
"I'll pick you up and carry you whenever you like."
Her merriment dimmed, and something unreadable crossed Maya's expression. "I've enjoyed being normal. Shedding the weight we carry, even for a moment."
The words caught in my throat. Nevertheless, they had to be said. "This is my fight. It doesn't have to be yours."
"The hells it doesn't." Maya growled, her violet eyes flashing. "You might have grander cause, but that does nothing to diminish my grievance. She turned me into a monster. A blade to do her bidding, even if that meant slaughtering innocents. And this life, she ordered your execution right in front of me—regardless of what actually occurred, that was what I saw, that was what happened
—"
I gripped her around her shoulders, holding her tightly as she seethed, feeling the tension in her frame. "It's okay."
After a moment, Maya gathered her thoughts and continued. "
I want to be normal. To go about my life carefree, blissfully unaware of the threats, and the dangers we face, and the hard stop at the end of it all. Some part of me tried, after I left the Sanctum. But I can't just stuff it all down and ignore it. It doesn't work. And if I couldn't bring myself to do that after you died, it's certainly never going to happen now." She batted tears from her eyes, the droplets sparkling with the warm light of the heart tree. "So stop trying to send me away. This is where I belong."
"Yes. It is." I held her there as a breeze chased a small ring of leaves out toward the river, the sound like whispered secrets.
Maya shivered against me.
"Should we go home?"
She nodded into my chest.
The palanquin ferried us both down the darkened path as we shared the ride. Maya had leaned over, her head on my shoulder, breath warming my skin—a constant, gentle reminder I was no longer alone. Lucius's advice echoed in my mind, and as I considered it once more, the last few reservations I hadn't even realized I'd been holding slipped away like morning frost.
I fumbled with the key as Maya waited behind me expectantly. The lock seemed to fight me in the darkness.
"Nervous?" She teased, though her voice carried its own tremor.
Sure, there were some nerves at play. Who could blame me? But the unsteadiness of my hand had nothing to do with that. The surrounding darkness pressed in, thicker than it should be. Darker than during our ill-fated raid.
"The stars are gone." Maya murmured, looking up.
The lock finally clicked, and I pushed the door open, half-turning to get a glimpse. She was right. The night sky was void of light, almost too black, so much so that it seemed to press down on the light of the village rather than be pushed back by it. "They said there was a storm rolling in. Must be well on its way."
Maya entered and hung her coat on the hook with deliberate care, then stood there with her hands clasped together, waiting on me expectantly.
I gave the burgeoning night sky one last look. Then shut the door behind us.