"Sentence first! Verdict afterwards."
- The Queen of Hearts
"Wake up. Narcissa. Wake up."
The world spun. What...?
"Please! The guard is here!"
My eyes were taking too long to adjust to being open. In the blurry dark, beset only by a flickering candle flame, I could make out Mathilde in front of me. Just her head. Where was the rest of her?
"Is that her? Is she dressed?"
Dane.
I try to get up, but I'm still winded; I fall back down, unable to stay up. We haven't spoken. Not since the incident in the garden. I've taken pains to avoid him, and when I didn't want to trouble Colin, I ignored him. He was very cooperative; no words, blows, or glances were ever exchanged.
We were unable to find a loophole in the contract; the four Dukedoms remained silent. We hoped their silence presented an unwillingness to revert to old traditions, a reluctance to enact such a primitive and unpopular ruling. That was all we had.
"No. It's the aura. I didn't... I didn't get to her in time, it hit her harder!"
What hit me hard?
Mathilde is crying. She's shaking me, trying to get me awake.
"Get her up. I'll handle it."
Sobbing, Mathilde pulls at me, tugging my hands, shaking my shoulders. Her black nightgown, I now recognize, explains my earlier confusion.
It pulls at memories. I break the waves into lucidity, and I really get up, landing on my feet, meeting her teary gaze.
Cold water.
"WHAT THE HELL!"
Coming to, I twist and launch myself at my brother, wrenching the bucket away from his grasp. It's clean water, thank goodness, set aside for washing. I wouldn't put it past him to have considered my chamber pot.
He brings his arms up to shield himself from the bucket I'm brandishing.
"Stop, stop, please!" Mathilde wails.
"Get off, brat!"
"Shut up, shut up!"
I bring the bucket high over my head. Dane turns his head, shutting his eyes tight.
I calm down.
"You need forgiving," I say instead, pulling up. Shame washes over me; Mathilde is a pitiful sight. She throws herself into my arms, and I catch her, turning to my brother.
"What's going on?"
"Royal guards. They've come."
My heartbeat quickens.
"From the Dukes? Why? Are they using force?"
His face is grim. "I don't have time to explain, but they've marched our gates. They'll be on us soon, we need to go now."
Responding to the urgency in his actions, I lay aside animosity and deem my nightdress presentable under exigence. We parade out into the darker hallway, enlightened only by a lamp Dane wields with an arm. Mathilde clings to the other. I hurry to follow, right on their heels.
"Where are all the servants?"
"Gathering in the foyer, along with everyone else. We need to appear composed. They've taken us in the night, but it's imperative that we do not appear that way, understood?"
I frown, but I understand. "Colin? Ben?"
Oh, Ben. I glance at Mathilde, who has regained a brave face, and despite all the horror and the suddenness, my heart twists for them; royal guards, in the mansion. A cruel twist to an unfair decree.
"Ahead. They woke me."
"But how did you know?"
Dane and Mathilde share an unreadable look. I can't question it. We've arrived.
All the servants, valets and retainers are present, arranged according to assignation and propriety, as if we were awaiting houseguests, not conquerors. Compared to our state of dishabille, they are all proper and neat in their uniforms.
Despite this, I don't miss the tinge of fear and confusion in their eyes.
"Tilly,"
Ben appears, pulling her into her arms. I avert my gaze, meeting Dane's.
His expression is determined.
I nod.
"Be strong," Ben whispers, after they part.
I look for Colin as Dane goes to take his place in the procession. I find him leaning on a column, towards the entrance to the ballroom. He looks awake. Alert. His hand reaches out to hold mine.
I tug. "What do you know?"
"Nothing." He sighs, running his free hand through his mussed hair."Riders from...Pandora, would you believe, came, not too long ago, demanding to speak to Benjamin. More of them are coming, if they can overtake the guards. They said they were sent by the Dukedoms."
I'm confused. "What? Then who sent the guards?"
"If they are to be trusted," he half-turns, showing me the profiles of some strangers huddled together. They are all cloaked, though I can almost glimpse a uniform under the folds.
"The King."
I drop his hand.
"Impossible."
"Narcissa..."
His reply is cut short by a commotion behind us. The doors open, and the herald attempts to announce the visitor. Cloaked like the others, but he is alone.
"No need, thank you. I come only as an agent of Pandora. A mere servant."
In my periphery, I see Dane freeze, even as his back is turned from the intruders.
Ben and Mathilde come forward, addressing the visitor informally; he is not the danger.
"Benjamin Eyrie. My wife, Mathilda Teese." Despite my brother's gruffness, Tilly curtsies. "And you are?"
"Reim Lunettes, at your service." The slim man executes a bow, the movement fluid and graceful.
I do nothing but stare in old, reused horror. The name is familiar to me.
Now whispered with respect and reverence, this man's reputation precedes him; he is the man to approach, when the impossible needs to be done. The son of an Earl, his person is shrouded in legend and myth. It's hard to know what's true. Standing in front of me right now, he seems... nondescript. Anticlimactic.
Still, his name instills a little fear that I'm used to having, despite my conscious effort to tamp it down. It is the old habit of keeping an ear to the ground, to know that name...
and fear that it would be interspersed with that of my brother's.
Memories of earlier, simpler years come to light; memories I'd prefer to forget. Isabelle's voice, screeching in my head.
"I know where that sicko brother of yours has been,"
I resist the urge to run to Dane. Defend him from phantom accusers; deny all awaited rumors.
"My Lord and Lady, we have corresponded before in less pressing matters. Right now, we have come to offer our protection. Act as a buffer. Our announcement has only recently been made public; the news should reach you come morning."
"And the guards? Why have they come, if the matter is decided?" Colin asks, speaking up.
The others turn to us, our position revealed. I hesitate to meet the man's eyes, but I'm surprised to see recognition there. And something else. It's as if something has dawned on him.
Urgency breaks the calm.
"My brother, Colin Eyrie, and my sister Narcissa." I fumble with an ungainly curtsy; I'm thrown by his piercing gaze. "And there is my other brother, Dane."
"We've met." Dane bites off, now unabashedly glaring at our guest. I send him a panicked glance.
His comment falls on the deaf ears of occupied attention. On me.
"My lady Narcissa." I turn back to the... agent, gripping Colin's arm tight. "Recent events and earlier statements have confirmed my suspicions. I now believe it is in your best interest to disappear."
Two beats. Everyone is looking at me. Are they expecting an answer?
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Don't insult her," Dane growls, and only then is his presence coolly acknowledged. "I meant no disrespect. However, I believe that the Duke Eyrie has bypassed our dissent to the first issue by citing an older law."
"What older law?" Ben demands.
"What...What does this mean?" Mathilde's voice enters the din, voicing my own confusion. "Is our marriage still recognized?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Oh, Gods..." Ben intones, hugging his wife. It isn't prolonged, because danger still seems apparent. "But what does that have to do with Narcissa?"
"I don't know." Reim Lunettes looks down, chastised. "But it is the only law that might apply..."
"What law?" Dane persists.
The agent turns to Dane, and their gazes meet. I remember. They would have studied Laws together, in Lutwidge.
The answer comes in a whisper.
"Property of the King."
"Stuff and nonsense," Dane dismisses. "That law hasn't been waived in decades. And there's no point. No one has anything to gain from that arrangement."
"But..." Reim Lunettes produces a cloth, and begins to polish his spectacles. "We have... acquired information, that gives us cause to believe that there is interest in Lady Narcissa."
Dane's eyes narrow. "What are you saying?"
What is he saying?
Earlier it worried me, but now I can't seem to look away. His gaze avoids mine. But I need to know. I've heard this all my life. I need to know.
I can barely breathe.
"She is not who she is claimed to be."
Silence.
And then my brothers are speaking, all at once, advancing on the messenger. Our age old tradition. Taunting and fisticuffs. Defending my honor, as my father never did. Bastard child, they whispered. Her eyes are blue.
And the trumpets are sounding, the hoofbeats descend;
All the king's horses, and all the king's men.