Dethroned Queen
VIII
She woke up only to find herself tied. Oh super. Génial.* She tested the ties. They were strong, no way to break them. When she opened her eyes, she almost wondered if she'd really opened them. It was pitch black around. And cold as ice under the wrists and ankles. And dead silent.
When the light came, she blinked, blinded. Did I say I hate posh parties ? Always go wrong. She looked around. No Roxy. No Charlie. Only her, tied to something that looked like rails. Rails. She almost started to laugh. It couldn't be this cliché. She couldn't be tied to rails, close to an oncoming train that couldn't possibly avoid her. She heard footsteps near her. A man, according to the sound of his soles.
"Where am I ? Who the fuck are you ?
- This knife," he said, shaking what looked like a Stanley knife. "Can save your life.
- Save my… What ? Then give it to me !
- That's not how the game's played, milady."
He smiled. She couldn't tell who he was, for she'd never seen him before, but he was old. And creepy. The creepy kind of old people. She struggled against her ties. Useless. She sighed. And then felt the rails vibrating. Oh fuck no. She felt her heart jumping in her chest. Holy shit, fire, bullets, water and now a motherfucking train ?! They couldn't be serious.
"My employer's got two questions for you, Maxime. First, what the fuck is Kingsman, and second, who's Harry Hart ?
- I don't know what the fuck that is !
- Maxime," he sighed, apparently disappointed. The train was getting closer, she could hear it. "I just killed two of your friends who gave me the same bullshit answer."
Oh my fucking god, I can't do this. She was going to die for them ? Dying for herself was alright, she'd chosen it. Dying for Roxy when she'd promised she would help us was alright too. But dying because of the Kingsman Agency ! She closed her eyes, her blood pounding at her temples, she could feel the rails vibrating more and more.
No I can't do this. Harry had trusted her, enough to command dresses at her size even before he was sure she would be able to go to the party. Oh. It was but a detail, but it was meaningful. He most probably had ordered those dresses even before his coma, for them to be ready on time, ensuring one or two days before the party that they would be adapted to her actual body shape. Which meant that he never doubted her. No, I can't. She felt tears flowing on her cheeks when she opened her eyes. He was still glaring at her. The train's headlights were blinding her.
"Fuck, oh shit, give me the fucking knife !
- Maxime," he screamed above the shrieking of the train. "Is Kingsman worth dying for ?
- No, it's not, you're right !
- Then ?
- Then…" She paused and looked at the train. There's no way it's going to stop. "Screw you !"
She closed her eyes again and yelled at the top of her lungs when she heard the train passing over her. IshouldatoldhimIdon'twanna… Wait. She stopped and waited. No pain. No blood. No disembowelment. No torn limbs. Suddenly, what felt like a mechanism activated and she moved. Up. Did I ever move down ?
When she opened her eyes, the old creepy man was no longer there. There was only a man, early fifties, brown hair sprinkled with grey. Harry Hart, smiling in his ever perfect suit. I'm so going to kill you. He kneeled next to her to cut her ties and offered her his help to stand up. She despised the proposal and did it on her own. By the look on his face, she knew she had done what she was supposed to. A fat lot of good that does me, now that I know I'm not going to die. She crossed her arms on her chest. The dress had been ripped at some parts by the ties, the rails and the whole operation. What a waste of fancy clothes.
"I'm tired of thinking I'm gonna die at every fucking moment," she grumbled. "Am I supposed to be happy right now or…?
- Well you should, because that was bloody well done.
- How did the others do ?
- Roxy passed with flying colours," he said, still smiling. "Charlie's up next. Want to watch ?
Just let me catch my breath and figure out how the hell I'm still alive and yeah, all right."
He smiled even more and waited patiently for her to compose herself. She gestured him to lead the way and followed. I hate this agency. He led her into the control room, Merlin's room, and showed her the screens. Roxy was already there, in front of Percival. He looked at her and nodded when he saw Harry. She smiled to her friend – yes, my friend, and stared at the screens.
Charlie was screaming, more or less like a child, and answering every each question he was asked. She raised an eyebrow and turned her head toward Harry. He shrugged. Does that mean I'm done with him ? She almost wanted to laugh and dance, at this point. She didn't even care about what was next, she didn't even got the idea that she was finalist, that it was now her and Roxy. But her smile froze when she saw Arthur appearing in front of her ex-best enemy. He was… She blinked. Everything took sense, suddenly. The way he utterly hated her. His innuendos with what she'd tried to do to his protégé. It was only because she was better than him since the very beginning. Serves you right, Chester King. Merlin switched off the screens and looked at them. When she saw everyone around straightening themselves, she mimicked them and lost her smile. So now I'm supposed to be serious.
"Galahad, Percival, congratulations. Your candidates have reached the final stage of the testing process. As tradition allows, you now have twenty-four hours to spend with them," he declared. "From now on, there are not safety nets, understood ?
- Because there used to be, of course.
- Dismissed."
She nodded and tried to stay serious… But when she saw Roxy staring at her, she smiled again and hugged her. Their mentors didn't say a word, probably wondering why their protégés were hugging instead of competing and pondering how much of an influence they'd been for each other. They only separated after a while. They winked and both followed their old man.
Harry didn't say a word until the moment they went back in his broom closet, back from the Kingsman tub. It felt weird, coming back. She didn't feel like the same person that used to pull the peg months ago. He led her to his bureau and sat in his chair, in front of the desk. She looked around. The walls were covered with Sun's editions. To pee or not to pee, she read. She frowned. It was not particularly vulgar, it was just highly surprising. Why would someone cover his walls with tabloid's covers ? It was… Not even artistic. Or useful.
"To pee or not to pee ?
- That was the headline the day after I defused a dirty bomb in Paris.
- Germany 1, England 5 ?
- I missed that game," he sighed. "I was breaking up an undercover spy ring at the Pentagon." She smiled and showed the first cover. "My first mission. Foiled the assassination of Margaret Thatcher.
- Not everybody would thank you for that one, y'know.
- The point is, Max, nobody thanked me for any of them."
He tilted his head and looked even more serious. He was lecturing her, somehow. Trying to teach her something. She didn't cower, but kept quiet. He gestured her to sit, so she does. And she scrutinized him. He looked a bit more relaxed than usual, except for the time he was in his awful dressing gown. A bit tired, maybe, but he was probably jetlagged from his last trip to the US. She wanted to ask how it'd gone with Carter, but she knew he would send her packing. Politely, but resolutely. When he saw she was glaring at him, he raised an eyebrow. She didn't lower her eyes. Not this time.
"Front page news on all these occasions was celebrity nonsense, because it's the nature of Kingsmans that our achievements remain secret," he declared calmly. "A gentleman's name should appear in the newspaper only three times. When he's born, when he marries and when he dies. And we are, first and foremost, gentlemen.
- That's me fucked then. It's like Charlie said, I'm pleb.
- Nonsense. Being a gentleman has nothing to do with the circumstances of one's birth. It is something one learns.
- Yeah, right," she sighed. "But how ?
- All right, first lesson. You shouldn't be crossing your legs like that, as a woman."
She laughed and uncrossed her legs. He smiled and took something in one of his desk's drawer. Two glasses and a bottle of brandy. He handed her one of them once filled. She sipped it, carefully. She wasn't really willing to get drugged again, even with Harry. What, even with Harry ? She brushed off the thought and concentrated on the alcohol. She didn't know much about oenology and stuff, but she knew it was a good one because it didn't taste bitter or unpleasant. It changed, from what she used to drink. I used to drink to get wasted, so whatever the quality.
"I have something to ask you, Max," he told her, visibly curious. "Before the train came, you said that Kingsman wasn't worth dying for. Did you think it, or was it just you being arrogant ?
- No. I thought it, and I still do.
- Then why didn't you say anything ? At this point, Merlin and Percival thought it was over.
- Kingsman may not be worth dying for," she said, thoughtfully. "But I owed you this. Not putting you in an awkward position. Or in danger, since I didn't now it was just some sick test of yours.
- You would've died for me, and not for the Kingsman agency ?
- For now, I would rather die for you, yes. It may change, when I'm Lancelot."
He seemed unsettled for once. He tilted his head and shook it slowly, as if trying to get a grasp of what she was saying. And he didn't say anything for a while. He played with his empty glass, staring at her but somehow looking behind her as well. She gulped and lowered her eyes. Would have she been able to, she would've blushed. God what did I just say ? She'd sounded silly, stupid. Candid. Naïve. Everything she hated.
She looked at the walls. Everything was about stupid celebrities, Pamela Anderson and cie. Was it all her life would be about ? Being invisible ? It wouldn't change so much. She would still be invisible, but in fancy clothes. And with an Arthurian name. Not alone anymore. Great. Living the rest of my life with old men. And no other women, as far as she knew. She sighed. She was already dreaming her as Lancelot, but there was Roxy. And she wasn't trivial. She was appreciated, or at least, she didn't raise as much dispute than her. She was pretty, smart, obedient. Merlin was fond of her. Percival, of course, valued her. She wouldn't even be mad if she won instead of her. Disappointed, maybe. And sad for… She gritted her teeth. She had to stop being so concerned with Harry. You don't know him, for Heaven's sake.
"You're a surprising young woman, Max," he stated, smiling again. "You trust me so much that you would give your life to protect my secret, but not an international intelligence agency ?
- I would protect the said international intelligence agency, and I did. But not because of the said agency, that's all.
- You're going to kill Merlin. Literally.
- I'm almost already killing him," she laughed. "He's going to quit, I'm afraid.
- I did worse, back in my time. Even if he's younger than I am, I've been his nightmare for a great length of time.
- You still are. I saw the way he looked at you, when you were… Down."
He nodded. They could've gone far with this conversation, and she wouldn't have really minded to go on, but he stood up and urged her to take her coat. They apparently had an appointment he had forgotten about. She suspected him of trying to avoid her and her questions, remarks, and comments. You can't deal with a girl half your age, old pal ? She followed him in the car and looked around.
It's been a while since the last time she'd been outside, in the streets. She recognized the way to the tailor shop when he turned next to the pub she'd been hiding in after her failed robbery. She leaned her head on the pane. It didn't look like the same city, viewed from this fancy car, next to this fancy chap. Wouldn't have she had the marvellous idea to break into the Kingsman's tailor that she would probably have left the city. She couldn't stay somewhere for too long, and what'd happened with Johnson was an example of what happened usually each time she'd stayed too long in some place.
When they got into the shop, she couldn't help laughing at the sight of the suits, shoes and ties. It's like a nightmare. Or a dream, I can't tell. He greeted the seller, an old man behind the counter. She hadn't seen it, back then. Maybe he was just… A seller. Not a Kingsman, not a secret agent. A plain man, doing a plain job. That would be disappointing, though.
"Now, the first thing every gentleman… And every lady needs is a good suit. By which I mean, a bespoke suit, never off-the-peg," he said, walking toward the fitting room. More like, fitting living room. "And Kingsman suit are bulletproof, so let's get you measured. Whether you get the job or not, you'll have a lasting and useful memento of your time at Kingsman.
- I'm sorry sir," the seller intervened. "A gentleman is completing his fitting. Fitting Room Two is available.
- One does not use Fitting Room Two when one is popping one's cherry." She rolled her eyes and hid her smile. "Perhaps I'll show you Fitting Room Three while we wait."
He led her into a cabinet and closed the door behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror. She had dirt in the hair, thanks to the rail test, and her make-up had ran. Thanks, Harry, you could've told me I looked like a panda. She brushed it with the back of her hand while he pulled a peg next to her. The wall opened. And she suspended her movements.
The room was full of weapons, gear and devices and she couldn't possibly imagine what they were supposed to do. She walked inside, slowly, admiring everything around her. She'd never seen so many lethal things in a single room. Or so she imagined them to be. Pens, lighters, shoes, rings, ties, briefcases, pouches. I'm living in a James Bond film.
"Oh yes. Very, very nice.
- You're going to need a pair of shoes to go with your suit. Kitten heels, allowing you to move and be smart at the same time," he said while handing her a pair of shoes. "By the way, if you're still wondering, an Oxford is any formal shoe with open lacing. The additional decorative piece is called broguing.
- At last I know. These shoes are awfully hideous, though, what are those heels ?
- You better get used to them. Your weapon scores are excellent, by the way." She showed her the umbrellas and the regular guns. "These you are familial with and this is our standard issue pistol. Quite unique, as you'll see. It fires a shotgun cartridge for use in messy close-range situations." He turned toward her. "How do they feel ?
- Hmm… Good. Old, but good."
She stood up and tried them. He then asked her to impersonate a German aristocrat doing… A formal greeting ? What ? She blinked and shrugged. Do I really look like a German woman ? She was called Muller, but still. She was full-breed French. Even if she didn't really feel French anymore. Especially when talking to a full-breed English with a perfect poshy Oxford accent. She knew she was slowly taking it, and somehow, it didn't really bother her. It sounded funny, in her mouth.
He finally sighed and showed her by taping his heels together. A blade went out. She did the same and whistled in admiration. Now that's something.
"That is sick.
- In the old days, they had a phone in the heel as well. Get it back very carefully, it's coated in one of the fastest acting neurotoxins known to man.
- Wow, okay…" She pushed it on the wall. "And those ? The pens ?
- I've had a lot of fun with this. One of our finest examples of chemical engineering. A poison, harmless when ingested… But at a time convenient to you…" He pulled the cap, turned it. "Can be remotely activated. Primed. Lethal.
- And the rings ? They're what, hand grenade ?
- Don't be ridiculous, they're signet rings and they electrocute." He showed her his. "A gentleman wears it on his left hand, but a Kingsman and a lady wears it on whichever hand happens to be dominant. Touch the contact, it delivers fifty thousand volts."
She shook her head, not even surprised. Between the poisoned shoes, the poisoned pen and the electric rings… She waited for him to deactivate it and touched it lightly. It was gold, as far as she could tell. It was engraved with his initials and the infamous K of Kingsman. She took his hand to overturned it and look at the contact. She didn't really figure out she was holding his hand without any real reason.
When she did, she froze and released it slowly. What the… Of course, it was too late and he was glaring at her with the same mix of surprise, interest, amusement and something else, this dark something at the back of his eyes she couldn't understand. Why did I do that. She could've just asked to see the ring. But I don't care about his ring. She cleared her throat and brushed her hair. It was still dirty. She walked to the door and stopped there. Dirt in her hair, while he was perfectly dressed. What am I thinking, again ? You're stupid, Max. And sentimental. And ridiculous. He took the lead and came back in the shop, where the seller smiled and showed them the open door.
"Perfect timing, the gentleman's just finished.
- Mister DeVere !" She gasped. Carter. What the hell is he doing here ? She stood still, trying to look calm. "What a coincidence. You are totally the reason I'm here, when you left my house… I was thirsting for that dope-ass smoking jacket you had on and since I'm going to Royal Ascot…" He smiled. He had a venomous smile. "Apparently you need one of these penguin suits so here I am. But what are you going here ?
- My new handmaiden. I was just introducing her to my tailor.
- Another coincidence, so am I," he said, showing his assistant. He turned toward her. "What's up, gal ? Richard Carter."
She bowed her head and shook his hand. It's not good. Absolutely not. She could see in his eyes that he knew something. Something he shouldn't have known. She prevented herself from looking at Harry. He was tensed. She could tell, his hand on her shoulder what almost painful. Smile. She did, and it apparently pleased Carter. He took back his hand and nodded. The way he was looking at her reminding her of the way Charlie and his friends used to look at her before the first test. A piece of meat. Poisoned meat.
"Have you had any chance," Harry intervened. "To think further of my proposal ?
- Most definitely. My people will be getting in touch with you very soon." He smiled even more. "I guarantee it.
- A word of advice. Ascot requires top hat. I might suggest Lock and Co. Hatters, Saint James'.
- "Lox"… As in smoked fish ?
- As in "locked up".
- I have trouble understanding you people sometimes," Carter sighed, disillusioned. His eyes were still shining dangerously, though. "You all talk so… Funny. Don't they ?
- They surely do."
Her voice was raspy. Less confident than she'd expected it to be. He nodded and went out, followed by his assistant. She waited for him to disappear before turning her head toward Harry. He blinked and forced himself to smile. Doesn't work with me. He looked around and ordered one of the tailors to take her of her. She frowned and held him back.
He turned and looked at her. There was no surprise or amusement anymore in his eyes. Only seriousness and concern. She released him and breathed deeply. He's not going to wait for me.
"Is everything alright ?
- As far as you're concerned, yes. Let them measure you, it's your only mission for today. When you're done, they will escort you back to the headquarters.
- Are you…
- A Kingsman never discusses order, Max. We'll talk when all of this is over" he said. He paused and looked at her dead in the eyes. "Be careful, tomorrow. It might be triggering. "
She nodded and watched him disappear outside. When the seller asked her if she was ready, she just went behind him. There's something wrong, she couldn't help thinking. And it's not just about Carter. The dark thing in his eyes. The way he just avoided conversation that revolved too much around him, or her. She shook her head and did what she was told to do. Don't overthink, you have a test tomorrow. The last one, hopefully, and come what may.
* Oh great. Really great.
