Resa's handshake was unexpectedly weak. There was something tough in the arrogant tilt to her head and lazy way she disregarded the dizzying height they perched at. But underneath her streetwise disguise, her bones jutted out like porcupine quills and her skin was the sickly color of oats. At much as it shamed him to admit, her weakness made him uncomfortable. He wasn't used to seeing the lower classes up close. He wasn't used to smelling them.
He released her hand and looked away. "Let's talk inside," he offered. "Can you climb down?"
Resa shot him a withering glare and slid down the slope of the roof towards the window. In one movement she twisted, grasping the outer tiles and swung off the roof. After a moment, he heard the soft pad of her feet hitting the floor of his room. He moved carefully, wondering if she was even human as he shuffled across the uneven edge until he could safely climb into his room. Resa had found the chair at his desk and was reclining defiantly. He sighed internally and considered whether he had made a good decision in asking for her help. He wasn't even sure how she could help him.
Cain thought about sitting down, but found himself too tense. He paced as he talked. Resa picked various items off his desk as he spoke and showed no sign of listening. Occasionally her eyes would flick to his, and then he would see the intelligent flicker in them that made him continue.
"Do you have any idea what that symbol is?" Cain alluded to her pendant. He considered why it would be both on his mother's ring and around a street rat's neck.
"Yeah," Resa interrupted his thoughts.
"What? Really?" Cain stopped pacing. That was almost too easy.
She shrugged as she examined his inkwell. "It's an image of an eclipse, the moon is the sphere and the ring around it is the surrounding sunlight. Supposedly it symbolizes eternal youth, it's not super common, but you could probably find one on a big market day if you were lucky."
"Why would my mother have something like that?" Cain thought out loud. Resa got this funny look on her face. "What?"
She set down the inkwell and braced her hands on her thighs. "Your aunt is a witch," she said as though that explained everything.
"So?" he asked.
She looked uncomfortable. "So, maybe your mother was too. It runs in the blood, I wouldn't be surprised if you have some magic in you too."
Cain immediately rejected the idea. "My mother wasn't a witch. She was nothing like her sister."
Resa narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't shout at me. If you have a better theory, please share."
Cain didn't have anything to say. If he thought about it, it made sense. His mother had been fond of talismans and herbal remedies when she'd been alive. And perhaps his aunt's iron grip over his soul was helped by the magic given to him by his lovely mother. Resa looked entirely too smug for him to admit that she may be right.
She tossed a stone figurine from hand to hand. His aunt had given it to him over a year ago. He had thrown it out the window spitefully, but in the morning it returned without a scratch. "What I'd like to know is how I'm supposed to help you, Highness."
Cain was saved from giving an exact response when a stiff knock came at his door. Resa placed the statue on the desk and stood up quickly, her eyes darting around. She's moved so quickly Cain was shocked the guards had ever been able to catch her the day he had first seen her. He placed a finger to his lips, gesturing towards his bed. As he reached for the door she rolled under the cot, tucking her legs out of sight.
He swung the door open onto a young page with hair the color of old hay parted down the middle. "Her Royal Majesty requests your presence in the Throne Room immediately," the boy recited. He was a new messenger. Cain tried not to think about what had happened to the old one.
Cain had learned quickly that none of the servants wished to be in his presence any longer that absolutely necessary, so he saved the boy from responding by simply nodding and closing the door. When he heard the child's steps beat furiously back down the stairs he spoke.
"The Queen has requested me." His voice sounded dead even to his own ears. Resa crawled out from under the bed. "I don't know how long I'll be. It could be only a few minutes."
"But it could be longer?" She asked.
"Most likely the errand will be over before dinner."
"Errand," Resa repeated. Cain felt a rush of relief that she wasn't looking at him as though he was a monster. It had been years since someone had looked at him without fear or disgust. She nodded, finally. "I'll be here."
He grabbed his sword from where it rested against the wall and was grateful once again that her expression didn't display any revulsion at what he was about to do. He thought about saying thank you, but just nodded tersely.
The door echoed as it swung shut.
oOo
The Throne Room was a grand old remnant from the once glorious palace. Its towering ceilings and stately pillars whispered of the Kings and Queens of old. Now the soft exhale of Cain's breath as he stood under the marble sky was all that mattered.
The Great Ivory Throne sat at the top of a multitude of steps so that the regent could see over all her subjects. The Queen perched there, waiting fo Cain to come closer.
She didn't have to be touching Cain to take control of his body, but Cain got the sense that it was easier if she did. He often wished that she was stronger, so that he wouldn't have to feel her hands cupping his cheek or her lips brushing his hair. Instead, he forced himself to take step after painful step up the stairs to where she waited. Why didn't he just run? He had used to. But her vengeance was almost unbearable. Like a dog afraid of his master's lash, he knelt at her heals. In a few moments she would brush him aside, and it would feel almost like falling asleep. Almost. If Cain was honest, it felt more like dying. Even though he knew that eventually he would wake up, soaked in blood and crucified on his own guilt, he still couldn't stop the stab of fear as she pushed her magic into his mind.
Even when he wanted to die, he didn't really want to die.
When he reached the last step he looked down at where she sat on her bright, white throne. He tried to imagine her as a girl, young and desperate to be loved. Her reflectionless eyes blinked open. She hadn't aged in the years he had been her prisoner, and he knew he would grow old and die before she got a single gray hair.
Her almost identical girls stood on either side of her, their eyes empty and sad. The girl on the right shifted to stare at him. Her lips parted in an expression of fear. As he stood there his aunt reached up and placed her fingers on the girl's neck. The fear drained from the girl's face and her head tilted back in ecstasy. His aunt paid her girls in magic. More addictive than any drug you could shoot or snort, his aunt sent them waves of continuous pleasure, so long as they remained still and silent and perfect.
Cain averted his eyes. When he felt his aunt's gaze on him he kneeled. She took her hands in his gently and kissed his forehead.
"My Darling, I need you to be cruel tonight."
He felt himself sinking, at first gradually, then at full tilt.
oOo
Resa quickly grew tired of examining Cain's desk. She'd never seen such opulent writing utensils, or such thick, white paper. It was almost too beautiful to be true. But it wasn't as though Resa had anyone to write to. And then there was the tremor in her hand and the creature in her chest reminding her that she hadn't eaten for days.
Well now she was in a palace full of food, and she wasn't about to miss out on the heist of a lifetime.
Still, it was with a sense of foreboding that she opened the heavy door to Cain's room and descended down the gloomy, spiraling stairs. They seemed to twist down infinitely, and gave her plenty of opportunities to turn back and wait for Cain to finish whatever it was he had been sent to do. She didn't turn around. It was when she reached the door at the base of the tower that she realized she couldn't go any further dressed as she was. Her old and tattered clothes were little more than rags, and she imagined that she smelled even worse than her dirty skin suggested. Opening the door, she peered out into the corridor.
There was a girl, significantly taller than her and quite a bit rounder carrying a pile of linens. Resa didn't notice herself reacting until she was already halfway down the hallway. She hooked her ankle around the girl's leg and the girl tripped with a subdued shriek. Resa had once met a boy who could knock someone out just by pressing a certain spot on their neck. She didn't know how to do anything fancy like that, but she had seen people threaten others into handing over amost anything.
"If you don't want to end up hanging from your toes on the South Wall you'll give me your smock," she threatened, only feeling a little ridiculous. Surprisingly it worked. The girl nodded furiously.
Resa leaped up, waving the knife she had pulled from her shirt convincingly as she ushered the girl into the nearest room. They quickly swapped clothes so that the girl stood in her underclothes and Resa donned the stiff uniform of the maids.
"I'm sorry," Resa said. "I'll be back soon."
She then proceeded to search for the kitchens, which proved to be more challenging than she expected. The palace was a maze, as soon as she found one set of stairs she was thrust into another floor of obscure rooms and disorganized corridors. It held none of the familiarity of her city. She yearned for the easy transport of the roofs.
Eventually she found the kitchens, deep in the castle. When she got to the doors that led to the kitchen, she could tell by the smell, she dumped the linens behind a statue and crept in. Inside it was dim and the air was an oppressive hand shoving her out. She forced herself into the insufferable heat and ducked against the wall as a group of servers crashed through the doors into the frenzied kitchen. Young girls pumped bellows to keep the oven fires roaring, chefs shouted over the din and waved trays of food out of the doors at a dizzying rate. All the while servants kneaded bread and peeled potatoes. Girls with quick fingers painted sugar flowers onto the side of an elaborate cake. Resa leaped out of the way as a tall man laden with jugs of wine dashed for the door. A perspiring woman passed with a basket of rolls and Resa snatched one from the top, shoving it into her uniform.
She edged back towards the door, already feeling ill from the hot air when one of the loud cooks grabbed her by the scruff and spun her around. Resa braced herself for discovery, but the cook barely glanced at her. "Take this!" the cook barked, pushing a tray of delicate pastries into her arms. The cook pushed another tray into another serving girl's arms and before Resa could pause to think, she was ushered out the doors. Following quickly after the other girl so that she didn't get lost, Resa wound her way up the back stairs towards the Banquet Hall.
The girl ahead of her had tucked her brown hair up into a cap, and Resa could see the sweat dripping down her neck. Was every night like this? How was it possible that this much food existed when over half the kingdom was starving?
They reached a set of gilded doors, thrown open to display an elaborate hall. Vaulted ceilings with frescoes of saints and fairytales soared above their heads in vivid reds and golds. The stone floor was polished so that it gleamed and waiters with silver buckles on their shoes waltzed from guest to guest, pouring wine and removing china plates.
There must have been visitors because there was an importance to the well-dressed nobles lounging at the long table that split the room in half. Resa saw a woman with feathers woven into her hair lean towards a large man with a bristling beard the color of straw. Her eyes roved across the table and fell upon The Queen. It was hard not to stare at her, despite the absurd extravagance that surrounded her. Her skin was so youthful it glowed, when she smiled Resa wanted to cry. Her silky hair was assembled above her head in a silver crown. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Resa had ever seen. If she had asked Resa to die for her, Resa would have gladly acquiesced.
It was then that she noticed Cain. He was practically unrecognizable, not because his hair was combed away from his face or because he was wearing a smart, fitted suit. It was something about the arrogant tilt to his chin, and the cruel glimpse of sharp teeth as he watched the room critically from his Queen's side. He looked like the prince from the courtyard, before he had woken up. For the first time, Resa grasped exactly what he had meant in his story. This was the queen in his body.
A pretty young girl with delicate gold curls stood by the queen's side, holding a silver jug. She leaned across to pour wine into the cup by the queen's hand, but slipped at the last moment, spilling scarlet liquid across the queen's ivory dress. Resa heard the girl's gasp, and realized that it was because the hall had fallen silent.
The girl took one stumbling step backwards, her face paler than the queen's once pristine dress. The queen's expression was hollow. She sighed and dabbed at her dress with a napkin. Resa noticed her glance at Cain and then incline her head towards the girl. Cain stood up and circled the queen's chair towards the girl, drawing a dagger from his sleeve. He turned it over in his hand.
The girl— who still hadn't said a word— turned and ran. Cain's arm snaked after her, snagging a handful of her gold ringlets. The girl jerked backwards with a cry. Resa felt the tray drop from her hands with a deafening clatter. Cain looked over at her and she thought she saw recognition.
"Cain..." she began. He pulled the knife across the girl's throat. The girl let out a sickening gurgle, her knees buckled and she slid away from Cain, blood pouring out of her and pooling on the perfect floor. She died.
Cain stepped back and wiped his dagger with a napkin, replacing it in his sleeve. He stepped back to stand by the queen's shoulder. She tilted her head in a bird-like manner, a delighted smile on her face as she looked at Resa. Then, a voice in Resa's head said in a clear voice, "How do you know my beloved nephew's name?"
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