♪ Done dealing with you
Don't know how to deal with me ♪
{Jhené Aiko ft. H.E.R—B.S}
EXPLICIT WARNING—for the song
Early the next morning, as a wave of thick fog blanketed the town of Torrinni, Harriet stole out of the Inn. She was too pressed for time to attempt to weed her way through the blurry streets and instead used Emeric's carriage and staff to take her to the place she wished she didn't have to go, to meet with the person she wished she didn't have to.
After how she'd left things—storming away from her screaming father as he tried to proclaim all he'd done was for the good of the country—she worried he might not want to see her. And she hated how, somewhere deep down, she wanted that. To confront him again was a nightmare come true, no matter how necessary, how essential to her and her associates.
Emeric and Axel had insisted on accompanying her, but she knew Eugene would seal his lips if they were with her. He'd turn stubborn, spit out insults, change his mind, curse their names—and she needed him focused. She needed him to cooperate.
Once at the top of the spiral staircase she knew by heart thanks to her horrid dreams of it, she took a deep breath, lowered her hood, and whispered a prayer as she approached.
She didn't need to knock—Eugene was already there, looking out the window, watching her.
"Father?" She squinted at him, at his unfocused and watery eyes, at his scrunched bushy brows.
"I knew you would come," he said, gruff and groggy as if he'd just woken from a troubling slumber. "To explain why I have been under constant scrutiny for the past few days, to tell me why soldiers and guards hover near this door day in and day out. What did you do?"
Upper lip curling, Harriet slithered closer, gulping down her fear at facing her father up close.
You can no longer intimidate me.
"I am protecting you. It appears there are some who want you dead for loosening your tongue, and I will not let them take you out. Not yet."
"Not yet?" His eyes widened, the grays and greens mingling but washed out, faded. His skin was blotchier than when she'd last seen him, and she could have sworn his cheeks sagged more. "So... you do not want me dead?"
Such a loaded question so early in the morning didn't sit well with her. She recoiled, unable to answer, even in her own mind. "I said not yet, because I want you to come clean. In writing. To officially incriminate those you worked with and for." She brushed a stray strawberry curl from where it tickled against her nose. "I cannot make promises but there may be some... retribution for you should you comply."
In reality, she had no idea if that was feasible. Once restored to his throne, King Antoine wouldn't be forgiving. Prince Jules surely didn't want Eugene drawing breath much longer, either. And somewhere within herself, Harriet didn't prefer him to be alive and continue his plotting... but he was her father. He had raised her, no matter how messed up and cruel he had been. He was her blood.
"Harriet..." he backed from the slit and huffed, "I already told you I cannot."
"No, you will not, that is the difference." She crossed her arms and glowered at him. "Have I not proven to you that I can keep you safe? You said yourself you had twenty-four-hour supervision." Gritting her teeth, she dared approach the window again. "You must comply. Sir Geitz... we captured him, he talked, but he will write nothing, either. His daughter... she is dangerous, hoarding resources, kidnapping people... we must stop her."
"Kidnapping?" Eugene grunted and rubbed his forehead. "You captured Sir Geitz? Who did that? How? He is the wittiest man I have ever met. In all our years of associating, no one came close to figuring out his motives."
Harriet almost chuckled, realizing how her father underestimated those who worked for good objectives. "I will not cite my allies, but they caught him unawares and he is in our clutches. Meaning he cannot harm you, Father. Meaning you can talk, you can write who your co-conspirators are and possibly lessen your sentence."
Eugene neared the slit, a subtle glow in his expression, as if considering her words, contemplating being on the right side of events, for once. For an instant she saw him hesitate, tumble towards the truth, lean towards complying...
But he swiveled from her, storming farther into his cell. "No. You may have Geitz in your grasp, but he always leaves instructions. And that daughter of his?" He snorted and spun around, hands on his hips. "She has authority to give us orders, too. And if she hears of my betrayal, she will not hesitate to hang me." He cocked his head and sneered at her. "I am no fool, Harriet. Even if I obey you, your King will have me killed. No matter what I do, I am going to die. So if holding my tongue postpones my death a little longer... then I will say nothing. Nothing."
Harriet's fists tightened and her arms trembled. She hadn't realized how tense she'd become, listening to him speak, to him denying to help her again. "I am your daughter. Hate me as you might, I am trying to find a way to avoid your death. Why do you do this? Why do you... fight for evil?"
"Evil?" Eugene snickered as he let out a chortle and meandered close again. A flicker of rage sparked in his gaze, prompting Harriet to back away. "That bloodline is evil. Edouard, his father, his son—they are idiots. Refusing to ally with France, refusing to mend bridges with Giroma... they are old-fashioned and stuck in their ways. We are the ones trying to fix that."
"By doing what? Killing off the royals?" She swallowed, arching her spine as a cool trickle of comprehension cruised through her. "Even... Prince Jules? I thought he was the puppet?"
"He is," Eugene's lips pursed, "until his wife is with child. Once she has a son... we will no longer have use of him. And from what I understand, her charms are hard to resist, and that poor Prince has been enraptured by her—"
She wouldn't tune in to another foul word spouting from his mouth, so she turned tail. Without a goodbye, without a thank-you, without a care, she sauntered off, ignoring his cries of protest, his fake apologies to draw her back to him.
Though she'd failed to obtain his words in writing, she had gained intelligence that Sir Geitz hadn't given them.
Prince Jules is dispensable.
Her mind was a maze of horrors as the vehicle took her to the Inn. Alliances with France? With Giroma? Dethroning royals to put others in their place? Tradition and old-fashioned ways? When had nobles in Totresia become so cold, so unforgiving? And when had they started to believe uniting with France was a good idea? She knew little of all the politics and sought to stay out of them—but she did know that French generals and aristocrats had had their eyes on Totresia for a long time. Trying to annex it, usurp it, invade it, to convert it to French land. And she'd thought for so many years that her father was against that, that he hated the French. How had she been so mistaken?
As she descended from the carriage, two hooded men—that she, as usual, recognized as Axel and Emeric—jammed into her and dragged her inside of the Inn.
Axel kept his features concealed, but Emeric lowered his hood and grabbed her shoulders. "So?" said the latter, his bright blue eyes concealing a storm brewing within. "Did he confess?"
"Not in writing." She struggled to break from his grasp. "Where are the girls?"
"No time for that," said Axel, nudging her towards the stairs. "We are sneaking into the castle, now. We cannot sit around and wait for these men to decide to incriminate their friends. They will not, we should have seen that. So we must take matters into our own hands."
Harriet frowned at him, resisting his push. "And you are telling me to go hide upstairs?" She huffed. "No, I will not sit around and wait, either. And nor will the girls, I swear it—"
Emeric snatched her wrist and tugged her to the steps. "No, you will not. You are all coming with us. The ladies await you in Axel's carriage. And our small group of mercenaries will join."
Harriet froze. "Wait... what?"
From the shadows of his hood, Axel laughed. "How else can we get in? We need you." He thrust her upwards. "And that means you must dress in finer clothing, prepare as if you were going to court for a normal day. Hurry."
Shocked, she climbed a few steps before pivoting. "You are sure?"
Emeric jutted his chin at her, urging her to hasten. "My sister is in there. She may be with the Duchess and the Princess, but until Charlotte is stopped, no one is safe."
"And my sister," added Axel, his chest heaving up and down rapidly with his heavy breaths, "is likely a captive, held who-knows-where for who-knows-what reason. We cannot dawdle while awaiting our father's intervention. It is up to us to rescue the Prince, the girls, the staff. To save Totresia."
Without another second of hesitation, though her heart beat like a war-drum and her limbs were shaky from adrenaline, Harriet scurried upstairs and put on her best court-worthy clothes.
Time for action.
•••