THE INTERVIEWER IS silent, his head hung low after the assassin's recount of Gabriel's murder.
"It was that easy to kill your father?" he asks, staring at the cold gray metal of the table, unable to look her in the eye.
"Yes."
"So you don't regret it."
"No," the assassin sighs softly. It's a strange sound coming from someone like her, someone so hardened, so damaged. The sigh is gentle, almost wistful.
"So," the interviewer says, clearing his throat. "I know what comes next. All too well, in fact."
There's an amused glint in her eyes as he says this. It isn't malicious, however, despite everything she has against him. "The rebellion."
"The riots."
"The downfall of the monarchy." A genuine smile appears on her face as she says the words. "The only good thing to come out of this mess."
"That's one way to look at it."
"That's the only way to look at it. No matter what our losses were."
He hates that he agrees with her. He'd been advocating for change for years, riling up royals and putting the idea into their heads. Leave it to her to finally burst the dam.
"What did you lose?" The interviewer asks her, brows furrowed. "You didn't care about Gabriel, you didn't care about Claudette — "
"That's debatable."
"Did you?"
She's silent, thinking it over, her green eyes boring into his. "Probably."
"That's hardly an answer."
"Does it matter?"
He shrugs. "She tried to visit you."
The surprise in her eyes is evident. There's an uncomfortably long pause before she lets out a disbelieving laugh, rattling the chains around her wrists as she covers her face with her hands briefly. "Why didn't I get to see her then?"
"I'm the only one they let through."
She accepts this and purses her lips, changing the subject immediately. "Anyway, you asked what I lost."
He nods, listening intently. She doesn't give him much of an answer, though, when she sends him a hollow grin and a whispered everything.
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THE CROWN PRINCE of Antares — now king, he supposes — doesn't think he'll be on the throne for much longer.
Judging by the massive protest taking place in the Big Square, this is the turning point. An accumulation of everything going on in the shadows — by both royals and nonroyals alike. Gabriel's murder was the nail in the coffin.
And Xavier Costa doesn't know how to feel about it. It's true that he has never once in his twenty-five years of life wanted to be king but his family has been at the top of Antares' food chain for almost two centuries. If this rebellion tears him off the throne, who knows what will happen to him. The slum-dwellers will probably rip him apart, limb by limb, which is a disgusting mental picture, he thinks with a grimace.
Maybe Mauve — Selene — will get to him first.
He stands nervously on the seventy-fifth floor of Scorpius Towers, a building that houses a large percent of Antares' royals and also serves as headquarters for the royal council, which is currently in crisis mode.
The king's suite is massive and the complete opposite of Xavier's taste. He likes things simple, minimalistic. The previous kings preferred extravagance, decor that Xavier would describe as gaudy. The chandelier above his head is big and unnecessary and most likely made entirely out of genuine diamonds. The carpet underneath his feet feels to soft to be made out of the same material one could find in an apartment or a house outside of the tower. Even the bathroom is the same way — the shower has jets, and six shower heads, and dozens of different dispensers for shampoos, body wash, basically anything a person could need.
He has always been disgusted by how much royals spend on material things when the majority of Cape Carnelian is starving in the streets. It's his family's fault that the capital has become a shell of it's former self; they put all the emphasis on royal status, they spent all the money on royal things, disregarding anyone they considered below them.
His gaze never leaves the streets below and he stands so close to the wall-to-floor windows that his nose is nearly touching the glass. The protests are fascinating; they're not yet violent but he can tell by their body language that they're furious, that they're on the edge of exploding. Somehow, Selene's note to Xavier reached the public, causing an eruption in the capital. He doesn't know how it happened — by a maid or someone working in the castle, someone nonroyal — but he does know that the note should have never gotten out. Selene should have never been a part of this. He can't help her now that everyone knows about her.
"Sir." Xavier's bodyguard suddenly appears behind him, making him jump in fright.
"Don't do that," he gasps, trying to calm his racing heart. His guard, Johann, stares blankly back at him, his stone face never giving anything away. Now that he thinks about it, he can't remember Johann ever having a personality.
"Apologies, sir." He hands Xavier an envelope and takes a step back, bowing slightly. "It's from your father."
And then Johann exits the room, leaving Xavier speechless and on the verge of tears. He rips it open quickly and Xavier's brown eyes eagerly devour his father's words, widening as they go on. The contents of the letter leave him confused and shocked, his head swirling as he tries to make sense of the revelation.
What the hell?
✦ ✦ ✦
