Disclaimer: The Keys to the Kingdom series does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Garth Nix, etc.
Warning: Implied spoilers for Lord Sunday.
Attempted Reparations
"Be healed," Arthur says quietly. "In body and in mind."
Monday is healed. He feels the weakness of his body, held at bay by the power granted by the First Key, and he knows how badly things have gone wrong.
"I don't know why I did what I have done," Monday says. He was never a disloyal subject. He was the Lower House's top administrator for millennia, before the Architect disappeared. Why would he betray Her and Her Will? Why would he allow the Lower House to fall into such a state of disrepair?
"I must speak with Lord Arthur," Monday tells Noon. Dusk. His Noon, Arthur's Dusk.
The New Dusk is diminished; the shadows do not suit him, though as with most of the Superior Denizens he is adaptable. Though he was not meant for the shadows, the New Dusk is becoming accustomed to them.
This is fortunate; Monday's former Demesne is in shambles, and it will require the efforts of all the administration to be righted.
Dusk scowls at him. "Impossible. As you know, Lord Arthur returned to his Secondary Realm. Earth."
"Noo- Dusk," Monday quickly amends when Dusk flinches. "Then you must get a message to him on my behalf."
"Also impossible. It is still Tuesday on Earth."
"Then wait for the next Monday," Monday snaps. He runs a hand through his hair; it is yet fine, though not as fine as it once was. He takes a deep breath. "I apologize, Dusk."
Dusk shrugs. "You have spoken more harshly to me before." He does not specify that he is referring to the period when Monday was afflicted with Sloth; he does not need to. "And I will do as you ask, but it is still the same Tuesday; the one after you handed Arthur the Minute Hand," Dusk explains.
Monday steps back, away from the sorcerous barrier that keeps him confined to this office. There are Commissionaires stationed on either side of the doorless entry, but they retain their loyalty to Dusk rather than the new Noon. At least, they have yet to report Dusk's occasional visits to his former master.
Dawn and Noon never come by, much less Dame Primus.
The embodiment of the Will; she is much diminished as well, but even this lesser form was enough for Monday to recall the reasons for his treachery. The Will resembled the Architect - a faded, inferior version of Her, but Her nonetheless. The Architect had entrusted Her Will to the Morrow Days, but they had not wanted their very existence to disappear simply because She no longer wish to exist.
Now his fellow Trustees were manipulating the time of Earth to besiege Arthur; it had been months since Arthur became Master of the Lower House, but less than a day had passed in his Secondary Realm? Time is fluid between the House and the Secondary Realms but this cannot be a coincidence.
"I suppose all contact with the other Demesnes has been cut off as well," Monday murmurs wearily.
"You suppose correctly," Dusk agrees.
"Damn it to Nothing," Monday mutters, pacing the confines of the room. The remaining Morrow Days must think that Arthur is on the Will's side. This is not inaccurate, but Arthur is only helping the Will because he does not know what it entails. In the moment that Monday was healed, he knew Arthur for who he was: a young mortal with great potential. A person who, like most of the Denizens in the House, was being manipulated by the Will to fulfill its clauses.
Arthur was not someone who sought the destruction of the House and, by extension, all the Secondary Realms connected to it. Including the home that Arthur was so desperate to return to.
"Dusk. You must attempt to get a message to Lord Arthur by any means," Monday says.
"I am not trusted, not like Noon," Dusk points out with only a trace of bitterness. "What is the message?"
"The Will is not to be trusted. Lord Arthur must know this: the Will seeks the complete destruction of the House," Monday says. "If he asks what the Will entails, it will be bound to answer him truthfully. That will be the necessary proof for my words."
Dusk's eyes widen. "Complete destruction..." he repeats.
"Yes," Monday confirms. "Only the Trustees knew. Perhaps some of the Times of Day have knowledge of it as well, by now; but the Will's contents were not widely known."
Dusk nods. "I will do everything in my power to deliver this message, master."
"I am no longer your master; I have failed you, all of you, and for that I apologize," Monday says. "I only hope..."
"It seems that those above you failed first, Mister Monday."
Monday's mouth twists bitterly; he knows this. "Indeed, Noon."
Dusk bows, and a moment later he is gone.
The hall is empty once more, apart from the growing stacks of paperwork, and the silent Commissionaires.
Monday paces the small office and hopes.
His Noon has failed. Monday has failed.
Dame Primus has grown more beautiful; Arthur has surely defeated Tuesday, and perhaps Wednesday as well. For all Monday knows, she may have given Arthur the Key and her portion of the Will. Though Monday was not part of her downfall, he knows of it, and the reasons for it.
Ah, there are the gloves. But no sign of the Third Key; the Trustees yet outnumber Dame Primus' Parts and Keys.
"You know too much," Dame Primus informs him.
"And the Heir too little," Monday agrees.
Dame Primus' eyes narrow, confirming his suspicions. She is terrible and beautiful; the force of her very presence brings Monday to his knees.
"I am simply doing what Lord Arthur ought to have done when he obtained the Hour Hand," Dame Primus says, raising the First Key. There is something ironic about this, Monday is sure, that he should be struck down by the very tool he wielded for millennia.
Monday will not look away. Sloth no longer pulls at his body nor his mind. He is defeated but unbroken.