Alexandra was feeling drained. Emotionally drained, mentally drained as well as physically drained after spending four hours talking to her brother. He had started off hostile, then got more and more comfortable, until at the end of the second hour, they were talking like the old brother-sister they had been.
Still, it had been exhausting. Taking the name "Sabel" in every sentence, when it always filled her mouth with a bitter taste, knowing what she had been going on with these many years. At some point, Alexandra had gone as far as to ask Austin, if he had ever checked the coffin - for Nicholas.
Naturally, Austin had looked taken aback. Then he had shook his head and said that the woman might be the worst they had seen, but he didn't think she could do something like that.
Alexandra disagreed.
The aunt, was capable of ANYTHING. Even if that meant, acting her whole life that her son was dead - when he wasn't. Alexandra was pretty sure he was NOT. And that Sabel was hiding him somewhere in her Maze-Palace.
She had changed her capital as soon as her husband had died. Announced herself as the Supreme Power of Ethoris - it was not difficult to do that, anyhow - and that was when the maze like Palace had been constructed.
Wasn't it clear? It was to hide - and hide whom? Of course, the aunt's face was ugly enough to be hidden, but then, practically speaking - it was for a person. Whom nobody should find, because in case he was found out, how would Sabel oppress the hapless Dovish?
All of these, still, were only theories. Alexandra believed them - and because she did, she would have to prove them. And then the whole Ethorian Palace being a maze... it scared her. Honestly, it was one thing to be with the aunt. But completely another and much, much worse - to be caught with her in a maze.
On top of everything, being a Head was messy business. Because now, in her pocket was a thick letter. Whenever she touched its edges, she felt hesitant. Alexandra wanted to simply run away from the House of Metanoia, back to the Council. Forget about Aunt Sabel, Austin, Ethoris - EVERYTHING.
Only if that had been possible.
The letter held the invitation to the Triumph Meeting. The exact sort of thing which made Alexandra's face twist in displeasure. The meeting had only one question: "what next?", they had won the war, they had had prisoners of war, still - what next?! and to answer that, they needed intelligence.
Not that they were fools - they only needed the intelligence department's view. It was Alexandra's job to predict what could happen next. And why. And when. And how. And where. It was her job to also tell them what had happened before. And why. And when. And how. And where.
Not that she didn't have her facts. Not that she hadn't connected the dots and come up with explanations. No, she was rather confident of her points. The problem was that Alexandra hated these protracted affairs.
Why not simply take the information she was giving and do whatever they wanted to with it? Why was there a need for a meeting, a discussion? That too, a discussion with ministers. Who were neither going to fight the battles, nor going to get the information.
Alexandra had a special disdain for ministers. Good ministers? They were like good dreams - pleasant to have, still, useless. Bad ones were nightmares. Unpleasant. Unneeded.
And the majority of times, the ministers made no sense at all. Just like dreams.
Around her, in the partial dusk - the House of Metanoia was alluring enough. Its crystal chandeliers were reflecting the final remnants of sunlight onto the wall, forming patterns even better than the ones the designers had managed to. The white floor had an orange tinge to it, reflecting the sky outside. If she peered down one of the parapets of the Palace, Alexandra would see the whole of Idgard sprawled underneath with the river Victorie silently flowing across its Eastern border, glistening demurely.
Victorie. The river's earlier name had been Kalopsia, changed, like a number of other things - when Vedessa broke away as an independent kingdom. That river was a deceptive little stream in February. Six months from now, in August, it would possibly be in one of its furies - the water tumbling over the banks, rushing into the city and forcing the Court to announce what had come to be call "August break". Every year, once in August, the river pushed overland, submerging the roads into waist-deep water. "August break" was a week of city-closure. No offices would open, no gardens, sites, playgrounds, arenas. Nothing, until the water receded.
The waters never reached as far as the Council. So Alexandra had never had much affect of the August break, though now - when the dark cloud loomed overhead and she had a devilishly difficult job to achieve, she hoped that she would live long enough - and return, to see the August break.
Emerging from the main gate, Alexandra hurried down one of the various staircases of the huge Palace. That dreaded Triumph Meeting was at ten in the night, and Alexandra wanted to catch a word with her colleagues before it. Just so they could match up what different officials had said and make sure the Dovish had not got away with any tricks.
'If I return,' she promised, turning back to the massive, marble palace, 'I'll stop calling you House of Meta-noya, like I do... I'll call you House of Meta-no-ee-yah, like you are. Please, I want to return.'
The gigantic structure didn't reply. But it seemed to be looking into the clouds and shaking its head, as if to say, the future is unclear.
Just the perfect encouragement Alexandra needed from Grandfather Metanoia. Or was it Grandmother?
* * *
Alexandra made a mental note that night - Royal Meetings COULD be good.
Just outside the Hall, a excessively formally dressed man, was waiting to tell them the seats they were to take. As Alexandra approached him, he bowed, 'Right next to the Head Chair, Madam,'
'Thank you.' She replied, 'Wait, right next to it or left next to it?' One of those weird language confusions that popped up from time to time.
'Right,' he confirmed. Alexandra nodded and left. The hall was not adorned, good point number 1. She suddenly felt a lump in her throat. They would be discussing what to do with her birthplace, here. Like it was a property they owned.
'No place for emotions,' she muttered to herself, 'the hall's too small for both. Either we stay in, or the emotions do.'
Okay, so the only woman in the meeting is here. Mind sang, meanwhile, not caring about any emotions or what Alexandra chose to do with them.
'Can you mind not reminding me that, Mind?' Alexandra snapped, 'I'm already uncomfortable!'
They all sat down, ministers talking to each other. Nobody seemed very surprised or uneasy with Alexandra being there. Good point number 2. Soon they fell silent. Everyone waiting for Liam.
'Quite unlike him to not be on time,' somebody muttered.
'Actually, we're a bit early.' Another informed. How early? Alexandra wanted to ask, but she was good without the attention being on her, so it was better to keep quiet.
The ministers' conversation, somehow wandered off to Liam's teenage. Alexandra listened with half an evil smirk and rapt attention.
'Who'd have expected so much change?! I mean - just no comparison!' Someone said, eyes wide and like he still couldn't believe it.
'I always expected it!' Someone else boasted.
'I say, the old one was better.' A third complained, 'this one's is too strong to give us any power. What say?'
Nobody said anything.
'I mean yes,' Alexandra assured, joining her hands and balancing her chin on her fingers, the half evil smirk fulling up, 'the Intelligence Department will surely consider this, ah, power-matter.'
A few ministers paled, some gave her half-innocent smiles. The majority - stoutly ignored her.
Alexandra put her head on her knuckles, and looked down. That had just been an empty threat. The intelligence department very well knew how much ministers loved to brag, they also very well knew how less capable they were to do something big - even if they had powers.
So much had happened in the last few months. The more she tried to forget her past, the more it was surrounding her. Alexandra felt repelled by the fact that her destiny was once again tangling with Doveland's. She had thought she had left it behind. She had been wrong. She had thought she had left Austin, Rose and Olivia behind. But she had met all the three again - in completely different and unusual scenarios.
Now, she would probably meet Aunt Sabel - in a hopefully comical scenario. Or rather, not meet at all.
If Master George could suddenly - with no ailments, pass away, why not this wicked, family-destroyer, devil of an Aunt have the same?
Maybe, because she deserved worse than the quick death. According to Alexandra, she deserved to be first kneaded into a smooth dough, then added with water and made into a slurry, finally, she had to be roasted and then added to a dove's droppings.
Perfect! Mind agreed, though, you must make the roasting last longer.
Alexandra giggled to herself, despite the unusually terrible day she had been having. Then, she heard chairs and feet shuffle around her as everyone rose. Alexandra pushed back her own chair and stood up, there ... looking no different, was the Idgardian King.
He acknowledged them with his evergreen smile and a slight tilt of head. Everything about him looked as perfect as ever, even the tilt of his head - not overdone, not left undone. Just perfect.
Who cares about Aunt Sabel now?