To say Kazimir slept poorly the remainder of the night was an understatement; in fact he didn't get near his bed. He paced through the apartments, back and forth, wearing down his carpets until morning arrived.
His servants arrived with it and everyone panicked about Kazimir's sudden loss of colour.
And since he had no explanation for it, he could just shake his head and say it was some medical mystery.
Tying it up into a knot at the back of his head was the best he could hide it in short notice but it didn't really help when he also tried to pull locks forward to distract from his eyes.
By the end, the result was he walked into the dining hall, everyone present and awake at that moment stared at him and Dalton's morning greet was, "Good god, what the hell is wrong with your face?"
And that wiped out any awkwardness Kazimir had felt and was replaced by a glare.
"You make it sound like I'm hideous," he said.
"You're something alright."
"Oh shut up."
"Just wait until Cole sees."
"Let's leave him out of it for a bit."
"What happened?" Dalton asked, tugging at a lock of white hair. "You've been completely bleached. I've never heard of a medical issue like this. Even your eyes have lost colour. Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm feeling fine," Kazimir said, "Really."
"And you're not bothered by a sudden change of appearance?"
"You change hair colour all the time I hear. That doesn't seem to bother you."
"I don't get a choice in that matter."
"Well, neither do I," Kazimir said.
Dalton's brow rose. Kazimir could see him starting to form his next question and Kazimir moved passed, clapping him on the shoulder.
"Now I need some breakfast," he said, heading for his seat and sitting down, pretending not to see all the stares from the courtiers who had come down for an early meal. He indicated to a servant to prepare his tea and folded his arms on the table.
He had spoken to his brother.
He had spoken to him as if nothing had changed.
A breath of relief swept out of him and he closed his eyes.
Were his hands shaking?
Had his voice sounded high? Tense? Strained?
He didn't think so.
Dalton didn't seem any the wiser.
The doors opened and he glanced around to see Aeralie enter. She was up and about, her legs still strong, unlike after her first transformation.
Dalton greeted her and gestured to Kazimir.
Aeralie looked around and her acting was priceless.
She let out a gigantic gasp, throwing her hands to her mouth before lifting her skirts and running to him, grabbing his shoulders, yanking him around to face her, tugging at his hair and pulling at his cheeks until he whacked her hands away and glared up at her – she in turn was trying not to laugh hysterically and was having great fun poking at him, using hand gestures to ask after his wellbeing while desperately stifling her voice.
Kazimir losing colour was one thing.
How they could possibly explain Aeralie suddenly gaining her voice would be a new challenge entirely.
It was in this moment too that the pair realised that, of course, without Kazimir's power, they couldn't speak through their thoughts and were genuinely forced to only communicate through sign language while in view of others.
"What a pain," Aeralie mouthed and Kazimir shushed her, waving her off to take a seat.
"Any news about how close your ship is?" Dalton asked, taking a seat beside Kazimir.
"Any day now, we think," Kazimir said, looking at him. He was quiet for a moment, just looking at Dalton as the young prince accepted a small bowl of fruit from a servant.
"What?" Dalton finally asked after Kazimir had stared too long.
Kazimir pursed his lips, then shook his head. "Nothing, just thinking."
"About?"
"... My mother will be arriving."
Dalton looked at him in surprise. "She'll be the envoy?"
"So it seems."
"I didn't realise."
"It seems she visited this country once before... a long time ago." Kazimir looked down at his food. "Just before we were born it seems."
Dalton looked at him, obviously noting the odd turn of phrase, and Kazimir looked away at the sharp kick he received under the table from Aeralie.
'Don't confuse him,' Aeralie snapped with her hands.
'I'm confused. He should share in the Twin Confusion.'
'That's not how it works.'
'Well that's not fun at all now, is it? You have to listen out for my mother, by the way, if I can't hear anything.'
'Don't worry, I'm listening for her.'
"I have to spend the morning with the court, will you join me?" Dalton asked, drawing the pair's attention back to him as he looked between them.
"Yes, of course," Kazimir said – then couldn't help himself. "Will Cole not be there?"
"No," Dalton said – and the smirk told Kazimir he was greatly amused by this question. "Least I don't think so," he tacked on.
Kazimir pulled a very unimpressed face at him and then turned the glare on Aeralie, who was looking greatly entertained by the whole thing.
"The pair of you are insufferable in your shared glee," he muttered and Dalton started laughing – which surprised many of those around them stare in surprise.
As they ate, marvelling at Kazimir's hair and generally passing the morning hours until they were forced to attend the court in the main throne room, they were unaware of a change coming over the palace and the surrounding areas from both directions, from both the sea and the land.
Warning began to hurry through the ranks, telling of the king's approach, that he was closing in, almost home.
It was no secret that daughters of the well-to-do were quickly prepped to arrive at court in their very finest and most alluring fashions – or were discreetly sent away to spend time in estates out in the country, away from the main palace and court life.
Opposing that however, were rumours.
A woman from the past, a myth and fable by now, was sighted.
A woman who had not been seen in twenty years – said to possess beauty that surpassed the legendary Helen of Troy, who could cause brothers to draw blood, so incensed by her beauty were they.
Said to embody the sea with rippling grace and a seductive fury that would drag men to their deaths.
Said to be the one woman to escape and still torment the heart and mind of the Poor King who pined day and night for two decades for the illusive siren who stole his heart with her enchantment.
It wasn't until the afternoon that people started to sense the change within the palace itself.
Before anyone could identify a source however, a servant slipped into the throne room where Queen Elaina was holding court and whispered in Kazimir's ear that a guest commanded he be brought to her.
Kazimir's eyes shot to Aeralie and she quickly nodded.
He excused himself from Dalton and left where they were seated by a window with Aeralie, leaving Dalton to watch after them, surprised by the quick exit and none the wiser as to the cause.
"Dalton."
The queen's voice drew his attention and he turned, standing automatically and going to her side when she beckoned.
"What is going on?" she muttered, her voice low.
"Going on?" he copied.
"Something is happening, can't you feel it? Something has happened yet no one has said anything."
"Perhaps it is not important enough to bring to our attention," Dalton muttered and Elaina glared at him, making him flinch.
"If I can sense it, it's something worth mentioning," she hissed. "Where did that boy slip off to?"
"Kazimir?"
"Him. And the princess."
"I don't know," Dalton admitted, "I assume they were needed somewhere. Perhaps their ship arrived – the seas will be just calm enough for that at the moment – perhaps they went to meet their envoy, it should be any day now after all."
Queen Elaina pursed her lips, resting her cheek on her knuckles, the nails of her other hand tapping on the armrest, dark suspicious gaze fixed on the doors at the far end of the busy throne room, drawing Dalton's gaze as well.
It was as they were watching that they saw a servant slip in and whisper something to The Master of Ceremonies.
There was no doubt about it, a mixture of disbelief and horror filled the Master's face and they did not miss the panicked glance toward the royal dais.
"Dalton," Queen Elaina muttered, her voice dark, "What are they hiding from me?"
Dalton took a step forwards at the same moment the Master of Ceremonies did, making him stop as the fidgety man opened his mouth to make an introduction.
He never got the chance.
The doors behind him were blown open, thrown wide and out of the path of the trio that stood at the threshold of the hall.
On the right hand side stood Princess Aeralie, looking strangely excited, judging by the gleam in her vivid eyes.
The left was Kazimir, his expression returned to its usual closed off, cold gaze, the effect striking with the new edition of his bizarre snow white hair and steely eyes.
But it was the presence in the middle that had everyone drawing back, mouths open, eyes wide, young courtiers dazzled by the beauty, older courtiers struck dumb by shock.
At the front of the trio stood a woman so beautiful, it was easy to believe she had walked right out of a dream and could surely not be real.
Her hair; a blonde so distinct it was like frozen sunlight, fell in rolling waves down her back and framed her delicate yet powerful face with its striking features, the big, sharp eyes an unnatural, hypnotising purple that one couldn't look away from.
Dressed in a modest gown that highlighted her still-trim waist – though it was impossible to put an age on her – it was made of what looked to be every shade of blue, she was like the ocean itself. Somehow she didn't need the insane frills and or overly dressed hair of others around her to stand out from the crowd and part it with a single look of the eye.
Dalton slowly took a step backwards.
He knew this woman.
He had seen her, only once before, when he had been a child.
She had been in a portrait.
She had been dressed in what he had assumed was a theatrical costume, designed to replicate the sea, with billowing folds of lace and satins and jewels, a crown of diamonds and seashells. Alluring and ethereal.
The queen had destroyed the painting in a fit of rage when she had discovered that he had found it. When he had questioned her about it, asking who the lady was, she had screamed that the woman did not exist.
They had not spoken of the painted figure again and Dalton had, in time, forget about it – but it had taken time.
Now he remembered why.
In those few minutes that he had seen the face built from brushstrokes, he had felt a familiarity. A recognition and a sense of lost love with the fading memory of something that was built more into the body than the mind. A sense of being held close, in a way he had no conscious memory of. Of being held close and spoken to... no, sang to.
He had been barely six the first and last time he had seen that face and thought of that embedded memory.
And yet the same sensation roared up within him as the strange woman locked her stunning gaze on him. He almost recoiled, his breath taken away at the sudden emotional reaction brought on by memories he could not quite grasp.
And then the moment was shattered by a scream.
The queen's voice was ear spitting, pained and manic, as if she had absolutely no control over her own emotions and they tore out of her in an animalistic scream that made Dalton, courtiers and servants alike jump in fright as she shot to her feet, staring with monstrous wide-eyes, lips trembling, body shaking as she stared at the woman.
"NO!" she wailed, "Why are you here? Why are you back?! Get out! GET OUT!"
And the woman had the gall to ignore her, her attention on Dalton.
Dalton stared at her, then his eyes quickly flicked towards Kazimir.
Kazimir met his gaze, then looked back at the Master of Ceremonies who, like everyone else, stood tense and twitchy.
He cleared his throat and the man jumped, before launching forwards.
"Her Highness, The Princess Royal, Icadora, Most... Most Beloved of our great King."
Darkness flooded the eyes of Icadora and Kazimir's hand came up to touch her arm softly and Queen Elaina's howling cry was enough distraction to keep the focus from the obvious seething abhorrence that filled The Princess Royal's eyes.
Icadora's gaze turned on the courtiers who watched in undisguised delight at the sight of the queen breaking down before her court.
"Leave."
The command was simple and hard and obedience was instant.
Courtiers and servants tuned as one and walked out.
Just like that.
Unbelievable.
Inconceivable.
And so very desirable. As far as Dalton was concerned, it was a power he would give anything to possess.
The door slammed behind the last of the servants and Elaina was off the dais in a heartbeat.
"How dare you come back!" she cried, pure rage in her eyes, "I told you to never set foot in this kingdom! I swore it then and I will carry it out now! I will kill you if you stay here!"
"You can't hurt me," Icadora said, looking down at the queen, despite them being the same height, disgust twisting her striking features. "What can a pathetic creature like you do to someone such as me? You're as worthless and spineless as you were twenty years ago. A raving lunatic who has no worth outside that of her husband – her obsession and life blood."
"Shut UP!" Elaina snarled. "Your words mean nothing when your actions say otherwise! You are here for exactly what you could not acquire twenty years ago! My husband does not want you!"
"Your husband wants whichever little lady he pins to the floor and forces himself into," Icadora replied with such coldness in her voice the temperature physically seemed to drop.
"You're a LIAR!"
"And you're a fool!"
"Why did you have to come back?!"
"I came for him."
Icadora pointed straight at Dalton as she spoke and he jumped, staring.
Elaina looked back at him, and a sudden realisation, a memory and understanding, formed.
She whirled back to stare at Kazimir, her eyes wide.
He looked back at her, eyes cold and impassive.
"This is my son," Icadora said calmly, holding a hand out towards Kazimir – who politely, almost mockingly, bowed his head towards the queen.
She took a step back, a hand flying to her mouth as she pointed at him.
"You," she gasped, "You should be dead. I told him to kill you."
"Yet here I am," Kazimir muttered, his voice dark.
"Kazimir, if you have the Heart," Icadora said.
Kazimir reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace that had mere months before been one of Queen Elaina's favourites and yet Dalton had not seen it in some weeks.
Clearly neither had the queen.
"Mine!" she cried, "That is mine! You thief! You're a wretched, damned thief! I executed one of my best maids for the theft of that necklace, you bloody monster!"
"That was your own rash fault then, wasn't it?" Kazimir said without a trace of remorse in his voice, sending a chill up the queen's spine.
He passed the necklace to his mother and she walked forwards.
"Wait!" Elaina cried.
"Oh do be quiet, you're like a 'bloody' seagull," Aeralie said and Dalton stared at her.
She had spoken.
She used a voice.
A real voice.
She wasn't mute at all.
What... why... he didn't understand.
His gaze spun back to Icadora as she stopped before him.
The cold, iciness seemed to fade from her as she looked up at him.
"Hello, dear," she said softly, "You sadly do not know me. My name is Icadora. I am Kazimir's mother. There is something I would like to explain to you, something I believe to be true, but I need to confirm it first."
Dalton stared at her for a moment, then that chill that had left her face settled in Dalton's stomach and he drew back, eyes wide and wary.
"Confirm... how?" he muttered.
She simply held out the necklace.
"Hold this for me, skin against the centre jewel."
Dalton stared at her. "That's it?" he asked.
"That's it," Icadora said gently.
"Don't do it, Dalton!" Elaina screamed.
"You just need to touch it," Icadora said.
"Don't! DALTON!"
"Here, Kato."
Dalton reached for it before he realised he was moving, his fingers closing around the centre of the necklace, the jewel pressing to his palm.
He saw nothing after that.
The world went white.
He could hear the sea, the crash of waves, the pull of currents, the gentle understanding of the voice that should have been part of him since his birth.
A peace like nothing he'd ever felt settled on him, a completeness, an awareness that a gap in his soul was being filled. Like he had lost his heart and it was returned to him.
He didn't notice the arms come around him or his legs give away until he came around.
~~~
Next Up: Thursday
Art By: Hoàng Lập (Solan)
I'm actually really glad I held off on meeting the deadline for this chapter, I think it turned out much better when i took the time because I really wasn't sure how it would turn out.
But i think it works lol there ar some phrases in here I really rather like~
ALSO! Omg, guys! Steel Roses has been nominated for the Best GLBT+ Award in The Literary Awards - hosted by TheLiteraryAwards - and we're already over 3K votes! That's not a winning number but that's ok! Because that's an AWESOME number of votes so far.
Thank you, everyone, who voted to get it nominated and to everyone so far who has voted! I'll leave a link below if anyone else wants to join in the voting on mine and the other wonderful works on the lists.
You can vote on the same book as many times and you wish to - as the hosts say - go crazy lol
Also - my comments still don't work, I don't know what's going on but it's rather annoying. just gonna have to reply another way.
But: side note, because this seemed to confuse people (Though I think someone found the answer and explained it) I'll just confirm they are right and dispel worry.
No. Cole is not related to Kazimir and Dalton lol
He's not a half brother.
That's a romance I'm happy to steer weeeelllll clear off here.
Cole's mother was a prostitute (retired now (I think lol)). His father is a pirate. Both are still alive and he's surprisingly close to them both - in particular, his mother.
His mother was, however, a mistress to Dalton's father at one point. That is how the two met and became best friends. That's the connection.
Don't worry. Kazimir and Cole have not fallen in love with their half brother.