I used to look out of this window and feel peace. A bliss of nothingness that was comforting compared to the chaos of my crowned life. I would watch late into the night as lights slowly went out and the busyness of Howler Street dwindled, only to pick back up at sunrise. The quiet was both a hug and a punch depending on how my day had gone. Most of the time it was a hug, a thing that would drive away all the harsh words of my father or the tiredness of smiling and waving for the kingdom.
Now...
Now I look out of this window and feel nothing. No hug, no slap, no bliss, nor peace. Rohana and I have been in the Moonrise tower for several days, the exact number now lost to me. We drank for the first three or so before we ran out, and then we did nothing for another day, and then after that is just a muddled mess. No one's come to get us, or at least not from what I can remember. My head still aches from the lack of water or food and the overabundance of alcohol. I believe that I knocked out at some point, could've been a day.
Rohana hasn't slept, you can see it in the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way the corners of them are red and her eyelids puffy. I'm not entirely sure as to why the reincarnation of her friend has pulled her into this, but I suppose it's a similar reason as to why I smell like shit because I can't look at the girl I once could never take my eyes off of. My heart's empty, my mind too full to sort through, and I have no clue as to what to do with all of it asides from trying to drown it out in kidzra.
I thought that I'd be more...more once we had Clare back, but I took one look at her face on that beach - hollow, pale, too calm to be hers - and I felt...less. It's like whatever was left in me just disappeared. I tried to go to her, tried to move my legs and arms to touch her, but they wouldn't listen. My mouth wouldn't move either, though I didn't have words for them to speak anyways.
Then came the thoughts about the Raver, the creature with black blood and long teeth. She just shoved her hands into its chest and yanked its heart out of its body, depthless in her own eyes. The action was surprising, but for Clarice, I didn't entirely expect anything else from her. That's when that small seed of hope took root in my chest. Maybe she was still there, maybe she pretended to lose her memories only to convince Xaxias that she was his, that he had more cards than actuality. Hard to believe such things when clear evidence suggesting otherwise was written on her body.
I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear her voice or the sound of her footsteps or feel the power she holds. I don't want to forget her, but I can't be around her. My power swells when it senses her nearby. It pulls me towards her, begging to be near their lost twins that they haven't felt in cycles. Along with them my heart tugs, but it's no more than a poke that my mind pushes aside like a feather.
Everything still working within me begs to go back to the Healers Tower, but I can't. I won't. There's too much pain over there, too much nothingness that's no comfort like the nothingness here. I can't explain the pain of being near her, words couldn't define it, but I don't need anyone to understand. I don't need to justify my actions when they do no harm to anyone.
"You need to bathe." I pull my gaze from the window, comparing Rohana's claim to my appearance, and then that to her own.
"You're one to talk."
"I'll be ambushed by my sisters the moment I step into the bath, you'll be free to do so without distractions."
"I wouldn't say that. My brethren are all mother hens."
"I noticed. They're like circling hawks."
I glare at her, but I can tell that it's entirely too soft to do more than brush her shoulder. "They care."
"Everyone cares, Pater, it's why we're here isn't it?" she snaps, adverting her gaze out the window once more.
I sigh, knowing she's right. "We're here because we're damaged."
"Everyone's damaged, but yes, we're a couple of misfits."
"God to know I'm no longer the only one in the club." She snorts, but no smile gets anywhere near her lips.
We drift back into silence, my eyes drifting to the now snow-covered ground. I don't remember it snowing.
The quiet suddenly becomes too hushed and I find myself standing up, near slipping on an empty bottle. "Come on. If your sisters decide to show, I'll simply order them to leave you be until you're ready to approach them."
"I suppose it's a good thing to have a King as a fellow depressed friend," she teases.
"I suppose so."
She stands on steadier legs than I, likely recovering from the amount of kidzra we consumed quicker than me. I take her hand and then we're misting out of the Moonrise Tower and into the top floor of the Royal Chambers. My father never liked these rooms, and it's not my old room, and it's far enough from the Healer's Tower, so it's the best place for me to sleep and do it without being subconscious of my surroundings.
"The Highland Tower is empty. There are spare rooms on the second and third floors you can use. Take your pick," I tell her with a wave of my hand.
"I'll take the second floor." My mouth quirks up, knowing she means the entirety of the floor.
"Before you go..." I walk over to one of the two sitting rooms this huge chamber has and grab the metal, flower-shaped pin Aracely gave me. According to Willa, they're totems that keep people like them away. It's dormant now, sitting in a wooden case that Aracely said would block their power. I hand her the box. "Open the box when you get into your room, and your sisters won't be able to go near you."
She stares through her lashes at me, then slowly takes the box and holds it as if it's an egg. "How do I know that it won't push me out?"
"Three drops of your blood on the pin will make you immune to it, but do it quickly. Once you open the box you'll have about five seconds before it kicks in."
"Wonderful," she states dryly. "Try not to die while I'm gone, alright?"
"Relax. The Bhaltayr are already in the halls."
She snickers at the closed doors that lead out to the hallway before heading for them. "Gods they really are hawks."
"Last I checked, you and your sisters are just as bad - perhaps worse."
She throws a vulgar gesture over her shoulder and then mists out just before she reaches the door, saving me from having to come face to face with a dozen expressions of pity and worry. I stand there for a moment, adjusting to the new type of silence these walls hold. I can't hear them, but I can feel their breaths and who's where. I kept the little fact that I let a breeze push them from the halls below and up here from Rohana. As much as I don't want to be near any of them due to the sympathy they'll reek when they see me, I don't want to be alone either. Loneliness is the only thing left for my hands to feel, and it stings like a blizzard's breath.
I take my time bathing, staying in the water until it goes cold, and then letting my power ease off by heating it back up a few times or holding its warmth. After that, I go to the bedroom and try to find decent enough clothes. Whoever stayed in here in the past months apparently took most of the clothes elsewhere. I'd say it was Xaxias, but there's no trace of his presence up here. It's mostly in the throne room and Eagle Wing where I can feel small pieces of him. I suppose death leaves traces, only this time I can actually feel where it has stepped.
I find some black trousers and a blue tunic, both loose but comfortable. The shoes are a little harder to find, especially with there being five rooms to rummage through. The first night we were here we all stayed in the hallway outside of Clarice's room in the Healer's Tower. It felt rude for me to leave, but it killed me to stay so close. The feeling is mostly dormant now, but I can't help the blankness I feel when I'm close. After that night I came up here, voting to take the chambers that go with my new title, though I still think it's weird to have the word King in front of my name. I've been called Prince for so long that the higher title feels...itchy. It's why I don't correct the Ginerva when they call me Pater. It sounds closer to Prince than its true meaning.
Once I manage to slip on some boots, I walk back into the foyer and stare at the door. I don't know how long I do so, just that it's getting harder to put my hands on the doorknobs and turn them. If I had the choice, I'd stay in here and take a long ass nap and forget the fact there's a likely war looming on the horizon. Maybe I could call Rohana and have her mist us into the garden or beneath my grandmother's willow. I'd prefer to lay in the sun and take in its heat, even if it's snow I'd be laying on. I could probably melt a patch for myself, and dry the ground beneath it enough to satisfy me.
Could I do that? Dry the moist soil without burning it. I suppose it could be a training exercise of a sort. Gods know I should keep the lesson up. The combat training isn't something I'm looking forward to. The sore muscles, the sweat that will have me jumping back into the bath, wishing for the world to disappear. To be honest though, the fighting clears my mind. I get so focused on my next move, on defending my weak spots and searching for them in my opposition, that I lose the thoughts plaguing me and my life.
Sparring with Lance, however, might be harder than before. Before I could do it without my stomach dropping to the ground at the sight of him. I saw the way he looked at me on the beach. I saw how he suddenly became more concerned with me than his unconscious sister. He'll know how to hide his thoughts from his face, but I'll know they're there. I'll know that he's wondering why it is I won't go near her, why I say little, do less, express even lesser. He's an assassin, noticing and thinking about such things runs in his blood. If only I weren't so damn depressing.
"Pater?" I jump at the voice, wind and fire already sparking in my hands as I spin toward it.
My power winks out at the sight of Willa. "Do you women ever use doors?" I scold, calming my racing heart.
"Why use a door when you can make your own?" she counters ever so wisely as she always does. Hard to not remember she's wise beyond everyone's ears when she goes spitting out phrases like that.
"Fair enough."
"Lance was wondering if you were ready to reconvene?" My stomach instantly plummets. I knew this was coming, but that doesn't mean I was necessarily looking forward to it. "A few of his men sent word that the Lords and Ladies of the kingdom were preparing to travel. A few have already left."
"Which ones?" I sigh, rubbing my face and preparing myself for their annoying court manners.
"Benhal, Sal, Novak, and Nevlander have departed. Pright and Lander will leave in the morning. All will arrive in two days' time."
I snort. "That's rather slow for them. How much of the castle and its staff is restored?"
"Lance said he had a headcount done just this morning, and the numbers will be updated every hour, which would bring the next update to be brought right about...now." Twelve bells ring on her cue, and I look outside to confirm that it's only noon, though dark clouds cover the land.
"Right. They're in Highland Tower?"
She nods. "All are present save for you and your guard."
"All?"
"Lance, Katarina, the Pirate, Tsillah, your mother, Aillard, and one of Lance's most trusted advisors. I'll be joining as well, ensuring that everything goes smoothly enough." That would be me she's talking about. I'm not going to argue, as much as I've gained more control over the elements, they still feed off my emotions, and my emotions...yeah. It's best she's there.
"I'm assuming we're walking there?"
"Unless you wish for me to mist us all there?" she offers.
"No, no. I could use the fresh air." I turn back around towards the door, but my hands only make it so far as hovering over the knobs.
Willa steps up beside me, glancing at my still hovering hands. "One should always remember, heavy is the head which carries the crown, but light it can become if one simply remembers that he does not have to do it alone. Those twelve men out there are the last twelve men who would ever leave you alone, and they are the last to ever blame you for things you cannot control."
"I know."
"Then why haven't you opened the door?"
Because it's hard. Because I can already feel the sadness and pity lingering around them like buzzing bees. Because my power is a curse, and I'm not the only one its luckless hands have touched. Everyone near me seems to lose their happiness when they're near me. Everyone seems to get stuck with my consequences and my problems which shouldn't be solved nor put unto them. I'm not alone, no, but I'd much rather it be that way. Don't I?
Ignoring everything, I turn the golden coated knobs and push open the doors. None of them say a word as I start my march down the hallways, and none of them meet my eyes, not that I necessarily give them the chance to with the demanding pace I set.
Gods I'm acting like an asshole.
The sound of their footsteps is the only thing that fills the silence, and though they're quieter than they once were when they walked the halls last, they're still loud in my ears. It has me turning right toward the stairs rather than the hallway that will take me to my old tower, and then the Eagle Wing before getting to the Highland Tower. I slow my pace slightly when my feet land on the ice ground of the Queen's Garden.
Usually, there would've been stones placed and kept clear of snow, but with our low number of hands, no one's been able to clear the path. I don't mind it, in fact, I prefer it. I used to avoid the damn stones anyways, preferring the crunch of my steps to the cleanliness of my boots and pants. Sometimes the Bhaltayr and I would have snowball fights, which would turn into wrestling matches or challenges at who could build the best snowman the quickest. I believe it was Ethan who said "fuck the competition!" and then continued to give his snowman breasts. The guards nearby couldn't stop laughing. That was until my father appeared in the halls with the visiting Lords, and we had to all build a wall with our bodies to keep them from seeing it.
The snow is left untouched now, smooth save for our disturbance. It sparkles despite the low light, giving life to the gloom. My mind moves to question whether Clare has anything to do with it, but I quickly push it away and focus on what lies ahead.
The Lords and Ladies of the Court are going to be a joy to host. Constant complaints about the understaffing, nonstop bickering that I'll have to interrupt before there's a civil war blooming, and the oh-so-wonderful discussion of my new title. Ten gold coins say someone flips a chair. I don't even think about whether their entire families will be joining or not. If so, then I'm going to need to ask Siscilla for something to combat constant headaches. At least Eleanor and Charles are gone, though that barely makes it easier for me.
I refocus on where I'm walking, surprised to find myself only a few steps from the council room. I always thought it odd that the room was on the opposite end of where the royal quarters are. In other castles, they're usually a floor below them. I suppose we Vandarians don't like the word normal.
Just as Willa said, everyone's here, though none of them are sitting at the table as last time. The table has been pushed to the back wall, its chairs and extras now forming a large circle in the middle of the room. At least there's food on the table, Gods know I've forgotten to eat since Rohana and I decided to go into hazy isolation.
Speaking of which, my depression partner seems to be attending as well, already helping herself to the small array of fruits, dried meat, likely stale bread, and what looks like seasoned mashed potatoes. They're tempting.
"Fifty healers have returned," Lance announces, thankfully taking the role of starting the meeting. "Less than twenty guards, and little over twenty-five...other staff members."
"No," Kat says when Gabe opens his mouth.
"You didn't even know what I was going to say!"
"You were about to start listing the alternative names you and your boyfriend have been coming up with to replace servant."
"I was not," he mumbles, crossing his arms. He most definitely was.
"The guard's number should be doubled by now," Aillard states, refocusing the conversation.
"Word has it that they're being threatened," Rykiel adds, this time standing beside Lance in the open for everyone to see him. We all know better, when the Jade assassins say rumor they mean confirmed fact.
"By whom?" I ask, already having a feeling that I know the answer.
"Lord Julyanus of Novak. Hand to the previous King."
"Previous?"
Oh shit. Everyone stares at my mother, all confused as to why she doesn't understand. I forgot to tell her about Dad. I forgot to tell her that he renounced his crown and placed me beneath it. I forgot to tell her that that was the last night I saw my father, that I have no idea where he is now nor if he's still alive.
Lance looks at me, the question placed in his eyes. I shake my head once and take a deep breath before putting down the strawberry I was in the motion of eating and walk over to her. "I'll explain everything later, I promise."
"Is he-"
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "I don't know, but I'll explain what I can. Later."
She bites on her lip, her face pulled into concern that I can't seem to balance out correctly with my half-assed reassurance. Luckily, she nods and takes the seat behind her. I take the one at her side, everyone else following. There are going to be a lot of changes around here, starting with the whole you stand if I do, and sit only when I allow it or sit myself. Formality is the last thing I need people worrying about. I'm their King, not their God who will strike them down because they didn't want to stand up for me or have the strength to bow or curtsy. A simple dip of the head would do, and even that has me shifting in my seat.
"What is it Lord Julyanus's threat entails?" I ask, continuing on.
"Any guard that obeys the orders of the kid Prince, rather than the rightful King, will be punished under the crime of treason," Lance recites, eyes moving as if he's reading the words off of a paper.
"Death for loyalty?" Kat exclaims.
"What authority does a fucking codfish have over any member of the royal family?" Svenja asks.
"None," Garrison verifies. "Especially of that to his King."
"Could Darius release a statement claiming his title and ordering all guards to return at once?" Kat proposes.
"None would believe my words to be the truth," I answer.
"You have more than ten witnesses as the law requires, they'll have no grounds to oppose."
"Perhaps not, but seeing as all of those witnesses are in close relations to Darius, many will argue that he pulled a coup and seized the throne in his own favor, without the formalities of a smooth transition, or any witness of higher stature," Tsilla affirms.
"What if Claritia writes the declaration?" Benny asks.
"They may believe her," Willa acknowledges. "Though the demand for the guards to return will go unheeded. They're less likely to follow commands given by the Queen than a male ruler - no offense."
My mother doesn't do more than wave her hand in dismissal. She instantly knots them in her lap, meaning her mind's elsewhere, likely on the well-being of my father.
"So then how in heathens do we get more guards to return?" Al demands.
"Well," Aillard sighs, rubbing at his temples as if he's already gaining a headache. "The first thing to do would be to get Lord Julyanus back in line. That's not an easy task, and the man fears little, especially with his strong thirst for power and will of defiance. Blackmail would work best, but the secret would have to be near life-threatening, and the man's as locked up as it comes."
"We can spare a few to see if they can find anything," Lance offers.
"What else?" I know very well how long the one task could possibly take, skilled or not.
He shrugs. "Appeal to his wishes. See what it is he wants in return for the guards."
"Yeah," Mal chuckles. "That'll go well."
"You could try the fear angle, though that'll take threatening his family - his youngest daughter, to be more specific."
"No," I protest.
"That's what I thought."
"His family isn't his only fear of threat," Kat suggests, casting a pointed glance to where Willa, Rohana, and Tsillah sit quietly.
"And what is it you're trying to ask us to do?" Willa asks, straight-backed.
"I just...I don't know." Kat shifts uncomfortably, unwilling to resort to any kind of violence as a first option.
Svenja steps in, sitting awkwardly in her chair and I find myself wondering how the position is comfortable. "Would he wine like a child if you threatened him with your-" she wiggles her fingers in front of her "-sorcery."
"We're not witches," Rohana sneers.
"Same difference."
"Wouldn't be the first time we've done it," Tsillah says to Willa.
"He wouldn't think us executioners, he'd think us as prizes to be won."
"He'd go after my sister." Willa nods to Lance.
Of course, he would. I'm perfectly capable of burning his bones, and he'd expect me to be ready for his attack. A girl who has no memory, who's likely naive enough to trust a Lord, and whose power is something she may not even remember having, is the easier, more realistic target. It might be shot down if he finds out who her guard is, but he's crafty, and he has resources that I'm sure even Aillard doesn't know the extent of.
"What if Clarice does it?" All our heads turn to Alister, who seems to instantly regret his words. Ever the young one in the room.
"You want a girl who's suffered at the hand of torture, to now be that hand," Aillard implies slowly.
Al shakes his head vigorously. "No - Gods no - I just...If Clarice is seen to be healthy and fully capable of dropping the ground beneath him-"
"Which she isn't," Rohana interrupts.
"-then he wouldn't go after her."
"So she won't be getting her hands dirty?" Kat says slowly.
"One doesn't need to blacken their hands when they're already coated in red," he responds just as timidly. His eyes land on Lance, a silent plea for him to understand emitting from them.
"You want her to appear as the Ebony Nightingale," Lance clarifies.
"Everyone already fears the simple sound of your names, the moment they see her dressed in her death regalia, Víđarr at her side staring them down and standing as a representation and reminder of what more she is, it should give them enough incentive to be intrigued."
"Intrigued, but not compliant," I point out.
"The boy may be onto something," Rykiel says. He taps his chin with a finger, eyes narrowed in thought. Lance looks up at him, likely allowing the more experienced of the two to take the lead. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but we don't necessarily need Clarice in order to execute the boy's theory. From what I've been told, the Ginerva are fully capable of creating the illusion that Clarice is there."
Rohana nods, albeit reluctantly. "We could, but then who would be there to watch over her?"
"We wouldn't need all of you, just someone who could pose as the Ebony and a few others who could make her powers look and feel realistic. We can fill in the missing spaces on the Queen's guard with our own."
"You think assassins could replace us?"
"They did," he counters, gesturing to The Bhaltayr. "And they've only begun to learn our skills."
"That's fair," Serephina chimes, earning scowls from the rest of her faction.
"I don't know whether to be insulted or proud," Ozzie confesses.
"Little bit of both?" Alex suggests, squinting.
"And what if this whole illusion doesn't work?" Vlad proposes. He leans forward on his knees, a map of Vandaria already spread out at his feet even though it's of no use yet.
"It'll work," Lance insists.
"What makes you so sure?" I ask.
"All we have to do is make sure Lady Fillis is present and that my sister makes eye contact with her. Do that, and the guards are ours."
"Do I want to know?"
"Clare paid them a visit a while back. Hard to forget someone when they leave a threat engraved in your skin." He shrugs again, and I'm tempted to remind him that a shrug is supposed to be something of mild nature, not threats of death or assassination.
"The Snowfall Celebration," my mom infers, coming out of her thoughts. "There was a small party thrown to celebrate the last day of snowfall. They were supposed to come but sent a last-minute notice that Lady Fillis was indisposed. We assumed she had the winter sickness."
"That's one way to describe getting her stomach sliced for killing off innocent servants. She didn't heed the first warning, so my sister went back, pulled out the woman's stitches after tying Julyanus and Marrieta down, and then poured salt and Banderin into the wound so it would scar indefinitely. Even with the gifted healers at her disposal, there would be a scar to remind the family of the consequences of their actions."
Banderin is a tricky thing that binds itself to the cells exposed to open wounds. It would take a skilled healer cycles to remove a dose of it in a paper cut, especially with the thing's ability to reproduce as quickly as the snap of your fingers.
"Helena-"
"Given a sleeping elixir so she'd sleep through the whole thing," he answers before I can finish. "Place my sister in a position where Julyanus and Fillis will constantly have Clarice in their vision during the meeting, and they'll be more likely to bend."
"And if they don't?" Tsillah asks.
"Toss a knife into the table in front of Fillis's stomach the moment they speak out. Their shock will buy you enough time to yank on their leashes and regain control."
"A King's court should be guided by loyalty, not fear," my mother declares.
"Such actions will not be taking place unless I deem it necessary. Until I give permission for such things to happen, all blades stay in their sheaths and powers held down aside from those creating the illusion." I look to Lance and hold his gaze until he nods, then I do the same to both Willa and Rohana.
I don't like this plan. It's a good plan, the only one we have to keep an annoying Julyanus sitting on his ass rather than standing with authority he doesn't have. He was my father's hand, he is not mine. Which reminds me, I need a hand to the king.
It may not be the actual Clarice who will be present during that meeting in two days' time, but considering the skill level of the Ginerva, I'd say it's going to look pretty damn realistic. I'm going to have to start mentally preparing myself now, otherwise, I don't think I'm going to be able to think - let alone handle - Julyanus.
Gods I've been here for ten minutes and I already want to lay on the ground to take a damn nap.
"On that note, we need to get to Thralia," Willa declares, moving on to the next topic at hand.
"We don't even have Vandaria standing, and you want to sail to Thralia?" Aillard argues.
"Not us. Me," she corrects.
"What-"
"Thralia is the first place Xaxias will strike, and he's already had a cycle to get there. There are no elementals to sustain it, the Ginerva are here and cannot defend it, and those who can, won't last more than a day at most - and that's only if he doesn't want to take his time making them suffer. He'll pour little into his efforts and give them hope that they could win. The moment that hope swells, he'll crush them like ants."
"And you want to take him and all he has, alone," Rohana contests.
"I'm the best chance at fighting and walking out of it. The Mater needs you here, and I won't ask for more than a ship to sail me to my homeland." She looks to Svenja, who's still sitting in that awkward position, now chewing on a fingernail and looking deathly bored.
"I've been on this land way longer than I intended to anyways. I miss my ship and the salt of the sea, it's about time me and the others return to it."
"Wonderful. Then we'll leave in the morning and sail before noon, with your permission, Meus Rex."
I meet her gaze, finding nothing but confidence and strong will in her face. Rohana has a narrow gaze on her, but nothing in her posture that tells me she's against the thought. Neither is helpful in the decision making, so I look to Lance, hoping that he'll have something to say that will give me something to think about. I've only just stepped onto my throne, I don't know what to do in this situation, and thanks to my rebellious behavior as a teenager, I didn't necessarily take my lessons on how to lead a kingdom seriously. He, on the other hand, grew under the care of his father who ensured he was prepared to lead.
"I know it's not something you like to think about," Lance says, voice calm as if not to upset me. "But you are King of Thralia just as much as you are King of Vandaria. Both are your realms, both your responsibility to lead into the war that comes and out the other side. If I had the choice, I'd let her go. Both she and Svenja have volunteered their resources for the trip, and we'd be sparing no men. You can continue to rebuild your homeland, and should Willa come into any information she could easily inform us within minutes of her findings, and we can take certain actions as needed. Seeing as our numbers are low, I'd suggest the Devils Pride take their own small faction to the distant island, and leave the rest here or about the Sea of the Morgayne, all prepared to sail in a moment's notice."
Perhaps making Lance my hand wouldn't be such a bad idea, I think. He's got a strategist's mind, a strong heart, he's loyal, and it'd be nice to finally have the Jade Assassins as an ally. Not to mention their spies and resources. And I trust him. In a King's Court, trust is never really a living, dependable thing. Someone's always trying to manipulate you or work a con. I can't imagine Lance ever trying to do a thing - not to me at least, though that's putting a lot of confidence into a man named the Sinister Fox, and for well supported reason.
Thinking on his advice, I turn back to Willa and start picking out the details. "How many ships could you mist from here to Thralia?"
"Depending on how much power I use to hold him off...two, maybe three at full capacity."
"And how many people could you harbor on that number?" I ask Svenja.
"Each ship can carry fifty civilians comfortably unless we cram people in, work on a smaller functional crew, and ration the food."
One hundred to one hundred and fifty people. That's not nearly enough.
"It's enough to continue our race, and we already have fifty accounted for Thralians in hiding. Those numbers could've multiplied since we last counted," Willa assures, likely reading my thoughts on my face.
"Darius." I turn to my mother and let her take my hand. "Think about what Clarice would do. What would she want?"
I can feel the whole room shift at my mother's words, but it's nothing compared to how quickly the heat all rushed out of me. I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from flinching away from my mother. Copper now stains my mouth, and I focus on it if only to keep me from doing something stupid.
Clarice...Clarice would've agreed without hesitation. She would've said that one-hundred to one-hundred and fifty lives were better than none and well worth it. She would've set the plans and then changed the subject to quickly distract her from the sinking feeling of her heart at the thought of three ships sailing away from a shoreline of screaming people. She would've gone through the meeting and the rest of the day acting as if she was perfectly fine, and once everyone was asleep, once I was asleep, she would've cried silently to herself or stuffed a towel beneath the crack of the bathroom door before hurling up her guts as Lance once said.
The decision would've plagued her through the days that we didn't hear a word from Willa, and it would've plagued her the days after when the survivors came to Vandaria's shoreline. She'd talk to as many of them as possible, hug those who lost loved ones, sit with those who needed to cry, listen to those who wished to talk and keep the kids smiling because their joy would mean everything to her. She would've sent them somewhere to hide out, to ensure that their survival had the best chances at winning.
Had Willa given the news that all was well, then she'd release a sigh of relief before jumping into the worry of not knowing where Xaxias was. She'd think about how many other kingdoms he would go after and conquer, she'd take sleepless nights to try and step into his mind and find out where he is. Until she did, she'd train and train, never once giving up because when it came down to the final battle, when it would come down to her being the only thing standing between good and evil, she'd be damned if she wasn't prepared to give her life.
Clarice never stops fighting, and I'd be damned if I do.
I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the floor, unable to look anyone in the eyes while I carry out the order. "Three ships. You check in every day, report what you've seen, what you haven't, and where you are. No unnecessary risks and the children are boarded first. Should you need immediate aid, the Ginerva will respond in full, no questions asked, no arguments. Even if the ships aren't fully loaded, you leave the moment you can no longer hold your own. Not a second later." I wait for all three immortals and Svenja to nod before continuing. "Siscilla will take over watching Clarice's health tonight up until three days after Willa returns. You'll need the rest after your journey."
"Thank you, Meus Rex." Willa bows her head, Rohana and Tsillah following while Svenja just gives me a lazy thumbs up. Lance nods his approval, and though it's comforting, I can't help but feel like my decision is going to get people killed.
*****
It's deep into the night by the time everyone leaves to their beds. Issues were discussed and solved if possible, left open for more discussion and thought if not. We ended where we started, finalizing the specifics about which of the Ginerva would be needed to pull off the illusion. Serephina has the closest physical relation to Clarice, so she'll be the one dressed in the assassin's suit. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have her power absorption nearby since Willa will be away.
Now it's just me and my mother in the quiet council room, the Bhaltayr and Aillard waiting in the hall. Chaos has kept my head so busy that I didn't realize that my mother may one day question why it is she has yet to see my father. I suppose a part of her hoped we put him in hiding until we deemed it safe enough for the King's return. I suppose a part of me didn't want to talk to her about it, so I pushed it to the far edges of my mind in hopes that if I did so, this would never happen. It was foolish of me to believe such things.
"Mother-"
"At least tell me that he's alive," she whispers, standing in front of a window, gazing at the sleeping town. I stay standing in the dimness at the center of the room, feeling like I'm the last person who should be standing in the moonlight.
"I don't know."
She spins around, her face a calm fury. "Then what do you know Darius? Because to me, it seems like your father just magically disappeared after confidentially giving you the crown and his title, all without speaking a word of it to me."
I notice the stab, notice how she implies that I had someone of magical blood remove him after doing Gods know what her implication entails, and forcing him to hand over the throne. The witnesses would support such claims, and it hurts to think that my own mother would believe me to be capable of such things. Then again, she has that look in her eyes that tells me she's searching for the boy she remembers running about the castle grounds, causing chaos in the wake of his footsteps. She yelled at me then too, but now she's begging to have him back.
I suppose you never really do know the worth of water until the well is dry.
"I am the last person to ever understand Father's actions," I tell her. "But the story behind it and his own words before crowning me make them clear enough."
And so I tell her the story Gretel and Aracely recited to us, all from the beginning. I tell her about Dawn and Kerrigan, about their true bloodline, their succession, and the reason why I'm a part of it. I tell her about grandma, about the wizard and her slow death, and the things she traded for the greater good. I tell her about my father, about how his changing overnight wasn't because of his mother's death, but rather his own of a sort. She's straight-faced for most of it, but as soon as I reach grandmother's story, her face screams emotions. Anger, sadness, guilt...she's beginning to blame herself for not noticing, for not questioning deep enough to find the truth.
"It's not your fault, and it wasn't mine nor even his."
"And your grandmother never thought that perhaps telling us about all of this, would've been okay - maybe better," she mumbles, shaking her head.
"You knew her, you know she'd never put such burdens on your shoulders. She wanted us to live without having to worry with every passing year, Mother. Can you honestly tell me that you wouldn't have had she told you?" She doesn't answer and walks back over to the window from the chair she earlier fell into.
"And your father, he just...left?"
I know better. I know that the strain in her voice is to keep herself from crumbling, from letting the disappointment that he once again left her to raise their children alone show. She holds her arms around herself, not in comfort, but protection. She let herself believe him to be changed, to be slowly becoming an image of the man he once was. She put trust and love into him, and he left. Again.
"I felt him head west. My reach can only go so far as a few miles outside of the capital before he finally disappeared."
I haven't told anyone that, nor have I thought about it. After watching him walk through the empty streets, his hood still up, I kept a breeze going through the streets. I turned in early that night, claiming to be tired when in reality I just needed more focus to keep track of him after he stepped into open land. He had no direction, just aimlessly kept going from what I could tell. His footsteps weren't firm and paced which would mark someone walking with a purpose. Instead, his were light and slow, the footprints he left quickly covered or forgotten.
I felt myself coming to my limit, felt the wind slowly begin to move on its own wings and its voice became distant and too quiet to hear or call on. Sweat gleamed on my brow, my muscles began to slowly ache as I kept pushing further and further, holding on longer. Losing sense of him brought my breathing back to normal, and my body slumped in relief, but I was anything but relieved. I slept, yes, but of exhaustion only. If I had the choice I would've taken a horse and rode out to the edge of the town myself and let my power swell and shoot out on its own wishes so long as I knew where he was. Hard to accomplish such things when there's a house full of trained killers who would all report to Lance of my movements.
"Mom?" I whisper in her silence.
"Get some sleep, Darius. Gods know that you haven't." She walks out without another word, and I don't stop her. My mother doesn't like sharing her thoughts, and like me, she'll be damned if she lets anyone see the deepest ones.
And Gods know that I'll need the sleep to last as long as I'll need to.