Lark received all the amenities Iris Smelter offered with good graces except for the tailor. Able had repeatedly warned the widow that the prince would likely be extraordinarily uptight about what he'd wear when he was reintroduced to his parents. Sadly, "extraordinarily uptight" had been an insufficient description, especially when the tailor second-guessed Lark's detailed instructions about width allowance for the lost weight he'd intended to regain.
Never mind the plays that they had slipped out a couple times to see; Lark's diatribe and accompanying demonstration deserved its own epic. Yet, even as the tailor had earned a dressing down for his costly error, he was also the unfortunate recipient of redirected ire. And the poor man had been terrified, for though he'd been kept ignorant of Lark's status, Lark had more than returned to physical form. Even the guards had discussed Lark's self-imposed training regimen in impressed tones.
Certainly the activity had kept his mind occupied over the weeks of exchanging letters full of demands and compromises. And it had paid off. Lark's form, more strapping than ever, filled every inch of his hard-fought silk suit. He stood before the mirror as he donned his ivory longcoat with sumptuous gold embroidery and buttoned it from his collar to his belt, leaving the rest undone to his knees. He smoothed it at his shoulders, then turned this way and that to assure that from every angle he indeed looked magnificent.
But she looked miserable.
Able turned from the mirror to let his gaze trail out the window. Idealview, they called this, the royal retreat palace out in the highlands beyond the capital. Today it stood by that name, the distance littered with cities along the Goldscale River until the horizon curled at the edges before it could reveal the ocean. Nearer lay farms and the castle village and below the tower Able was perched within stretched a rolling field where several dozen tall horses grazed. Was it this very field that the boy prince Plaudit had been snatched from all those years ago, ultimately bringing Able to this unthinkable present?
"Has it sunk in yet that you're back here?"
"Not really," Lark replied without taking her eyes from the reflection of the hair she was plaiting. "Guest chamber, unfamiliar faces...you know. Or maybe you don't. Maybe I don't." She shakily inhaled before resetting her face like stone.
What could Able even do to help now? "Are you comfortable you understand the claim?"
Lark shrugged tightly. "Chessie and Flower like it." Able did too, or rather, he liked that the legal team Darkshoal had assembled was so confident about the majority of their demands. That was the only measure for success his experience allowed him in all this.
"Yes, but do you feel comfortable about defending it?"
"I'll have half a dozen lawyers in the room with me." Lark forced a chuckle then nodded to the folded sheet of paper on the vanity. "And the cheat-sheet, besides."
"What about the arrangements of the meeting? Would you like to walk through those?"
Lark quirked an eyebrow. "Is this for my nerves, or yours?"
Able crossed the room to lean against the wall beside the vanity so he could look into Lark's actual eyes instead of the mirrored ones. "This is my last chance to be of any help to you. Once you go in there, I am an observer again and nothing more. In fact—do you still want me in there?" Lark had waffled on this point over the past week, at times insisting she would prefer Able in a safe location should things go wrong.
She did not hold his gaze, fixating instead on her braiding. "You said if you see the discussions in person, you'll have more insights about it when you write your book, yeah? And that the book has the potential to win public opinion over to the arrangement...or not, depending how negotiations go."
"I stand by that."
"So, let's be fore-thinky like you instead of gut-spewy like me."
"Ha, you haven't spewed your guts since we landed." Able chuckled, at first accepting it as a joke. But then again, the gut-senses of these spirit practitioners had proved difficult to discount, and Lark had long been surviving incredible odds on hers. "Bear in mind, you could still ask to renegotiate the meeting again if something is feeling off to you."
She frowned and looked thoughtfully down, her anxious trance perhaps finally broken. "Not 'off' as in I expect double-crossing. But when I picture it all in my mind, there's me and you, our three Borealunder friends, and...I guess I'm not too concerned about the Larbant pencil-pushers? Then we got my mother, her armed retainer, my father, his armed retainer, his private secretary, the general, his chief aid, the Minister of Law and his chief aid, the Minister of Overseas Affairs and—"
"You're listing some who aren't in the room until you've been recognized," Able put in, trying to get a buoy under her as she floundered in her mental waves.
"Right, right..." She took a breath. "And we got the concession of the ground floor too, but it would only take a minute to get a couple archers on the wall—maybe even gunners..." She was still floundering. Not without reason, though.
"We negotiated the attendance count way down, but it had still better not come to blows." It was difficult to trust the assurances that the lot of them could walk away if Plaudit wasn't recognized. "I still say it's too bad we couldn't get you and your father a one on one without interference so you could just sort yourselves out," he added wryly.
Lark raised an eyebrow. "Overlooking the possibility that I owe my talents to my lineage much?"
"You already forgot the king has the gout?"
"Right." Lark frowned and looked down. "I...that's difficult to square with—with how I remember him."
"By all accounts, he finds it difficult to square with how he remembers himself and is likely to be on his feet and pretending to feel no pain. So...be prepared to exercise discretion there?"
Lark snorted. "You're gonna trust my judgment? You've lost your da—dumb mind."
Able couldn't help but smile. Perhaps we should find him an etiquette coach? Pillar had gingerly suggested at one point, only to flinch when Lark scoffed from the other side of the room, Why not? Swearing like a sailor was all it took to convince people I was one. While Pillar had settled into shame that he'd affronted a royal, he'd perhaps missed that Lark had taken the point to heart and had been minding her word choices. To mixed success, of course.
She tied of her braid and smoothed it flat along the back of her head. She let her hands fall to her side but then seemed to struggle to keep them there as she stared glumly at herself.
"Does it help that Chessie isn't worried?" Able tried.
"Chessie doesn't care about what I'm worried about."
Able's throat tightened. "Well, I do."
Lark looked down at the top of the vanity and tentatively set her fingers on it. "I'm just...I feel like he has me over a barrel, here," she whispered. "Like w-what demands are he going to make of me? You want to be Plaudit again? Then, you must never again...I dunno..." She closed her eyes.
"Yes, I know." Able pivoted to join her. He held her around her waist, pulled her close in attempt to mitigate some of her trembling with his own body. "Do you think we stripped the witness count too far? That he might be willing to say some of that out loud?"
She hung her head. "Does he need to say it out loud?"
Able turned his gaze from the side of Lark's jaw to the mirror. Tried to see what she saw. All the apparent power of this sharp, masculine form was inaccessible to her. Instead, it was a meek facade begging for mercy.
Able nodded once and pulled the tie from her braid. "I say make him. Make him face you."
Lark batted his hands away with a flick of her wrist and fixed him a reproving glare. "Able, hardly the time—"
Able seized her shoulders and attempted one of her fierce grins. "Let your power out, my lady! Don't entrap yourself on his behalf!"
She pushed him back by the chest to arm's length, still glaring for a breath. And then she'd heard him. She'd heard him, and pulled him back in by his collar, and set her lips acutely on his. He found himself pushed back once more, gasping the air for breath and grasping at her for orientation.
Lark caught his palm delicately between her thumb and forefinger and returned it to his person while flashing a winning grin. "Let the expert, would you?" And she began undoing the braid.
Able retreated again to the wall with his relief and watched her pull the strands loose and recoil them into their glory. Her demeanor was regaining buoyancy at the same rate as her hair. He'd have been satisfied if was all he could do for her. But a knock on the door revived his hope that his last-ditch gambit had actually paid off.
Lark, fingers poised mid-tease through a curl, glanced at the door, then out the window, then at Able. "Early?"
"I'll see what that's about," Able replied then walked to the door. He opened it to discover a tall, slim, and dark man standing perfectly at ease in his overstated finery.
"Ah, have I found the correct room at last?" he asked and flashed a smile so bright and familiar that Able had to lock his lips to avoid returning it. If this was indeed the Second Prince Acumen, showing anything but deference would be a grave misstep.
Just as bad a misstep and just as difficult to avoid was staring at the lighter-skinned woman at the prince's elbow. Her black curls were artfully pinned around her head and back to tumble over one shoulder and round out the asymmetrical style of her orchid gown. Lark was going to be so jealous.
Able bowed his head and said, "Your Highness," before stepping back from the doorway. Amusing that he could have been addressing any of the three.
Lark only stood there with eyes and mouth both overly ajar.
"Well, would you look at that?" Acumen sounded delighted. He pulled his hesitant sister into the room by her arm. "Well, go on! Stand next to him for me!"
The princess did not. But even from where she stood, she looked the shorter and more feminine edition of Lark, especially as she had her hands over her nose and mouth to stave off the flood of emotions swirling through her brown eyes.
Acumen pushed her closer.
Lark shot him a reproving glare before her face melted into concern for her sister. "Sage?" Or maybe she wasn't sure she recognized her.
Undeterred, Acumen stalked around the two of them. "Really quite remarkable." He stepped back and stroked his short beard, eyes alight. "Do you not think so?"
Princess Sagacity folded her hands in front of her and inhaled deeply before replying. "I suppose I do."
Lark looked helplessly from each of them to the other.
"What, nothing to say for yourself?" Acumen grinned smugly as he folded his arms in triumph. "You, who could not be troubled to drop your poor brother a simple 'by the way, I'm not dead,' let alone alert me that you're in town?"
"...I'm not supposed to contact you." Lark looked to Able for help.
But there wasn't any help Able could safely offer this moment, so he kept his face like stone.
Lark caught the hint and looked to her siblings again. "Either of you."
But Acumen only laughed. "It's almost as though Father thinks he runs this country." His grin turned conspiratorial. "But fortunately the mice of the kingdom yet scamper across my toes and the birds sing in my ears." Seemed the rumors of the second prince's pride in his allegedly broad intelligence network had not been overstated.
Again, Lark looked to Able, this time with an eyebrow raised.
Able merely put a finger to his lips. Thanks to his recollection of Hardy Northrise's work, he had found himself the team's impromptu financial adviser. While he'd been making frequent excursions to the Royal Chapter in service of that cause, he'd made a point of looking into the second prince's financial affairs less discretely than one might. When the king's representative later forbid that the secret of Lark's arrival spread to any further parties as a condition for negotiations to continue, Able had reasoned it a sign that this venture was worth the risk.
He had just accepted that he'd let this situation go to his head—what sort of prince worries about a scholar with no office who might print a few hundred pamphlets?—when he'd found himself cornered in some dusty stacks by a large man demanding to know exactly why Able was nosing around Acumen's affairs. I only thought the prince should know his brother will be returning to Clearview, Able had replied before getting himself out of there.
Maybe he would find out exactly how foolhardy that had been.
Lark glanced between her siblings again before taking a calming breath. "I'm on thin ice here."
"On ice?" Acumen cocked his head. "How so?"
"I mean I don't know what's safe for me to say. Hi, Ace? Is that something I can say without blowing negotiations?" Lark grimaced then shrugged helplessly at her sister.
Acumen only laughed again. "Well, if you're not Plaud, you're the first to make Father seriously consider that he might still be alive, and that intrigues me." He raised an eyebrow. "Hm, though not as much as, it appears, my sister's bodice intrigues you."
"Er, sorry." Lark looked up but then pointed at Sagacity's side. "It's this—I was wondering how this spiral seam here on the bias was accomplished—"
Sagacity burst into tears.
"Sage," Acumen chided.
"M-my apologies." She leaned her head back and sniffled a few times as she tried to redirect the flow of tears from her make-up. "I simply—but he's my brother!" She gave up and covered her face again.
"Who won't be adopting any more of your hand-me-downs, it seems." Lark's smile quivered as she pulled her sister into a tight hug against her chest.
Acumen shook his head. "It appears Jilfreddite blood is thick with sap." But he then sighed in surrender and hugged both of them at once.
Able allowed himself a satisfied exhale. This might well be the best he could have hoped for. Lark entering the chamber with her sister would make an undeniable visual, as much as it might anger the king.
A movement from the corner of his eye brought his attention to Chessie, standing in the doorway watching the royal siblings with her penetrating gaze. "Is he ready?" she asked without looking at Able.
"Of course he's ready," Acumen replied grandly, though he spared Chessie little more than a glance. He inspected his half siblings a moment more before nodding decisively. "Let's go get our brother back."
Chessie and the other Borealunders and the pack of lawyers she had gathered in the hall all held their tongues and stepped out of Acumen's way. None of them were looking at Able for direction, at least.
Lark, however, elbowed Able as she passed him on her way to the hall. Just enough of a jab to let Able know he'd been stupid. Followed by a smirk over her shoulder to let him know she appreciated it.
Able fell in beside her and whispered, "You don't have to let him take over."
"Nah," she breathed back, "think he'll make a good buffer."
Able nodded his agreement to that.
Princess Sagacity was walking along Lark's other side, still discreetly trying to compose herself. Prince Acumen had taken the lead, sweeping through the halls at the head of the pack as if he owned the place. He could be forgiven for thinking so, as he'd been raised in this palace, same as his own children currently were.
He led them through towering stone halls and down a broad staircase to the gaping maw of a foyer that made the galleries he led them around and back to seem intimate spaces in comparison, though each of them were easily twice the size of a city common room. The second prince chattered amicably as they went, but his words were swallowed in the echoes of the palace. No one else bothered to compete.
At last they turned into a hall lined with armed men, most of them familiar from their time guarding Iris Smelter's estate. General Pillar was speaking with a servant but stopped and went rigid at the sight of the group. A shadow of contempt crossed his features when he saw Acumen, but he remained professional when he addressed him.
"Your Highness. I was not informed you would be joining us."
"Likely, that is because I was not invited," Acumen replied airily. "And I demand a word with my Father about that."
"Very well," though by Pillar's tone, he meant I can't stop you, "but you should know that the secretive nature of this meeting was agreed to by both parties."
Acumen grinned broadly and reached back to pat Lark on the shoulder. "Well, I won't hold that against Plaudit, who fears he has few friends, while I clearly have many!"
"Indeed, sir." Pillar stepped out of the way. "But you should know your 'many friends' are beginning to find you enemies." Even from an emperor's trusted general, that seemed a bit forward.
But Acumen only smiled pleasantly. "Fortunately, I can tell the difference." He fixed his gaze on a guard, who then hurriedly opened the door for him, and inside he strode. "Ah, Father. I thought it an odd time of the year for you to take a retreat, yet it appears my sources don't lie!"
Lark needed a moment more, it seemed, as she took a few calming breaths.
Pillar favored her with a grandfatherly smile. "He does things like this all the time. It shouldn't reflect on you."
Lark closed her eyes and worried her fingers as she stoically fought for each breath.
Able put his hands in his pockets so he would not reach for hers, so he would not pull her back down the hall and hold her. Even looking away, he could feel her distress. He looked to Chessie and Flower for help.
But it was Sagacity who stepped forward and set a tender hand on Lark's back. "It's all right. Mama's in there, correct?"
"Heh, and I'm sure Father wishes she wasn't." When Lark's sister gave her a confused look, she conceded, "Or not. I've been away a very long time."
"She won't let him get too vicious..."
"Exactly." Lark blew a long exhale.
"It will be all right, your Highness," Pillar broke decorum saying this now, before Lark had been officially recognized. Would that help her, to see how tall the deck had been stacked? If Impetus refused to recognize Lark now, he could hardly pretend it was for any reason other than the issue of inheritance. Not that it would necessarily stop him.
Lark nodded slowly. "Thanks." She turned to look at all those around her. "Thanks, everyone. For everything. Really. All right." She drew herself to full height and stepped into the gallery.