To Make a Kinder Children's Tale

38: Execution

The following week was a strain on Esme, although not because she stayed in the castle. She visited more people than she did before and found out that she plain adored the eccentric elders of the family. Not that most Aelif looked old, but even with their youthful bodies they came with things she saw more often in the more brittle ancient humans. These people had ceased to care what others thought of them-some of them almost downright irreverent to the king, of all people. Said it came from changing his diapers when he was a babe. They also looked on her as a youngling-which she was. That part of all these older beings had finally made it past her sense of adulthood-not that they treated her like she was a child, but they allowed her to be inexperienced without as much exasperation as she caught from younger Aelifs.

No, the strain was because the former thief avoided spending time with her bondmate, still smarting over his lack of interest in her. It didn't surprise her, honestly, given everything. But it was the frustration of having him do things that from anyone else would be declaring progress in a relationship, to choking off potential growth right behind that. Hells, she didn't even like Rileus and he'd not do this to her-he'd either be all-in or never take those steps forward. But Althalos? His actions screamed a very different message from his words.

To make matters worse, Esme had a gift for him siting on the sideboard-yes, she knew what a sideboard was, by now-wrapped in bloodstained paper. It was her constant companion in their living space-it on that counter and her pacing the room. That, and she had not yet gotten her dirk back. Without it, she felt far more naked than she'd ever been in her life. She was starting to think he withheld it from her to prevent her from taking her walks.

It was during the execution of the second attacker where she was left alone again in their rooms-tempted to start arguing with the wrapped gift-when one of those nondescript servants walked in with a box-and-note for her, leaving her sitting on the couch with the ungainly items.

Esme read the letter first. She shouldn't have opened the box.

To the deformed bondmaid:
Your people's insane demands cost me my son. I yield him, a sacrifice to prevent war from decimating our nations again. But if you ever grace my kingdom with your presence, you will join him for eternity.

~ Justice Aggrieved, Moreshull.

Inside the box was the decaying head of an Aelif-no doubt this Heinlen. The Princess' revulsion netted her dry heaves, sending her skittering into the bathroom to vomit into the toilet. Once calm, she approached the head again-she was glad that she hadn't upended the box. She stared at the thing, hoping it wouldn't send her running back to the bathroom. For one crazy moment, she thought that maybe she should eat the evidence, like the Elder said they could do-before she came crashing down on the reality that she was too damned human for that action. Too human for the action of sending a beloved child's head to her enemies, too, so there was nothing about this situation that made reasoned sense to her, at all. What could she do with it?

The only tangible thing Esme could think to do was not let Althalos see it: which meant she needed to find Octavian, the Elder-hell, Rileus first. She took a moment to make sure she was presentable then grimly closed and picked up the box-and letter-before she walked out the door. The closest would be Octavian's court-and if he was busy, it was an equal choice to go to the Elder or Rileus, but her betrothed would likely be with the latter, settling that woman's head on a pike, so the heir's heir would be last on her list. Silently, the princess blessed the courier who brought this early enough in the day as to not have her man be home-but it wouldn't be much longer before he returned, looking for her. Probably to take his need of her after putting an end to yet another threat to her life. The thought was enough to send her running down the corridors. No way she'd assent to a thing with the head waiting to be discovered.

The three-way junction between the King's court, greater outdoors, and Esme's hall merged oddly-easy to see down the other two, deliberately done to prevent surprises. And damn him, a large man was in the distance off the outer corridor. She ducked into the King's way and took off at a jog, hoping he was too self-absorbed to notice just who was running.

Althalos looked up to see the back of someone small, clearly trying to escape-at first he figured it was a child until he realized it was Esme. Why she would, he had no clue. Considering that she was taking the King's way, it didn't appear to be something he could ignore. With a sigh, he took off after his betrothed.

It wasn't long until he caught up with her-and grabbed her arm to deliberately slow her down, not noticing that she carried anything. Esme's startled squeak, as she tried to stoop lower to recapture the container before it hit the ground damn near caused her to fall, so he yanked her back upright and around to face him. "What in the world is wrong with you?!"

She wasn't even looking at him, although she winced as his grip tightened on her arm. "Please don't look." Her voice was tense, like she was trying to keep it as emotionless as possible but had great reason to fail.

Of course, Aelfine being Aelfine, he started to turn immediately, but she reached up with her free hand and turned his face to her-far easier for her to touch since he was leaning towards her in the first place. "You may hurt yourself."

His grip loosened and he forced himself to relax, "Are you going to tell me why, or do I have to pull away so I can see for myself?'

"I was sent a head today."

"Whose?" He barked this out harshly, hardly waiting for her to finish.

"I believe it is Heinlen's."

He winced under her gentle grip. "I assume that it came out the box, when I jostled it out your hands?"

"Let me put it back."

"Have you touched it, yet?"

"No, I only opened the box."

He sighed. "That's bad enough, as it could be a trap. I'm going to have to look, Esme."

"I really don't want you to." She said this as she pulled back. "You may not be the easiest man to live with, but I wouldn't do this to an enemy."

Althalos grasped her hand, before it completely fell away and brought both to his chest, not far from his heart. "I thank you, my dear." He then let go and turned-more the trained guard than hurt Prince-to kneel down and study what he could before doing anything concrete.

Close proximity to the head caused it to open it's eyes and begin a shriek-filled curse-how it did that without lungs bothered him, but it was more important to stop whatever the head was doing. Althalos touched it's forehead and ordered a command in their native tongue. The life drained away from its visage. It decayed rapidly once released from it's power, causing the Prince to curse fluently in something less dangerous-a mixture of human and Chelifire: harmless languages, common curses to their nation-then switched to another command that held the head in a timeless state before forcing it back into it's box by means of the wall as leverage. He had no interest in further touching the thing.

The Prince stood back up, the package in hand, and turned to his betrothed. "Come. We're going to the Housemage."