Part II

"A Long Day in Dunwall"

Chapter 10

18th day of the Month of Earth, 1852

I woke the next morning to the sound of birds singing sweetly outside my window.

A cool river's breeze caressed my skin, gentle and relaxing. I realized I was lying on my back with my blankets tucked under my arms. I sat up, yawning.

Captain Mayhew was sitting at the marble table at the foot of my bed, pouring over something. Reports, looked like. Her burnished red hair glistened in the light like a mane of fire, and her captain's hat was laying on the table next to a silver tray fresh laden with tea and dark bread, loosely wrapped in a white napkin to keep it warm.

"Where's Father?" I asked, rubbing my eyes. "How did I get here?"

"Your Majesty! You're awake," she said, looking up. She frowned at me. "Lord Corvo carried you to the bed. I found you two sleeping on the floor this morning."

"You needn't sound so shocked, Alexi."

I swung my legs out and groaned. My muscles ached from last night's sword training in the throne room.

"You're an Empress. You're not supposed to be sleeping on floors," she said, her serious mien flickering to concern. "I understand it was a difficult night for you. For both of you. I'm sorry, Your Majesty." She stood up and held the ends of the silver tray. "Do you want breakfast?"

"I want to know where my father is."

"He left to get washed up in his own quarters, but he let Coral up the elevator. She's warming your bath as we speak."

"Oh." I could use a hot bath, I thought, rolling my aching shoulder. My skin felt clammy, too––dried sweat––but my hunger seemed more pressing. "I take it he's still sequestering me in the Tower?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

I waved my hand and Alexi brought around the silver tray, placing it on my lap. I sat at the edge of the bed, gazing out the window at the birds. The little sparrows dove close, inspecting prospects. From our past encounters, I knew a few were brave enough to land on an outstretched hand, but most were too skittish and would only peck at the trail of breadcrumbs I'd sometimes leave along the windowsill.

As I watched the birds, I tore off a chunk of dark bread and listened to the Captain as I ate. She was saying, "…Protector left orders for me to look after you until he returns. I only got back this morning from the Drapers Ward. Forgive me for saying it, Your Majesty, but the whole palace seems… well… confused. No one knows what's going on."

I tore off another chunk, grinding and spreading the crumbs along the windowsill, even as the wind blew them away.

I smiled as a daring sparrow snatched up a runaway crumb, flying away with his treasure.

"Your Majesty…"

I turned away from the window and saw the question in her eyes. "Corvo didn't explain why," I said flatly. I uncovered the tea and took a slow sip. Normalcy, I thought. Every moment fleeting. Will today be tomorrow's dream?

"Not really, no," the Captain said, "but I trust him."

"I know you do." I put down the tea and took her hand, giving her my full attention. "Alexi, Father has his Eyes, as you know. Last night, his spies picked up… rumors of something bad planned for today. We don't know what, and we don't know when exactly, but it's coming."

It was the best explanation I could give her. Not the whole truth––who would believe the Outsider himself was the source of these so-called rumors?

"Something bad," Alexi repeated, her eyes narrowing. "An assassination attempt?"

I looked towards the wall where last night I had propped up my mother's portrait, that is, before locking Rosemary in the safe room. I shuddered at the very real possibility that I would die today, pierced through the chest by an assassin's blade, just like Mother.

That would surely end my reign.

"Maybe," I said, staring into my mother's face, her painted eyes offering no counsel. "It'd be… poetic. Empress Jessamine's daughter killed at the anniversary of her assassination."

The Captain scowled. "Not poetic. Sickening."

But I saw the blood drain from her face. "Though it does sound like something the Crown Killer would do. He's twisted in the head––a sadistic butcher. He'd do it just for the spectacle."

She'd seen the Crown Killer's handiwork up close. As Captain of the City Watch, she had unfettered access to the murder scenes. But not all the victims were in Dunwall––only the most recent, like Ichabod Boyle. It was as Corvo said, the murders first started in Karnaca, to the south.

The Captain shook her head. "But everyone targeted has been your enemy. Does Lord Corvo actually think the Crown Killer is coming for you?"

"We have no idea what's coming." I put aside the silver tray, suddenly losing my appetite. "I best get cleaned up now. I still have a remembrance ceremony to get through."

"And you will," the Captain said, touching my arm. Her eyes were deadly serious. "I would die before I'd let anything happen to you, Emily. The Royal Protector, too. If anyone can stop the Crown Killer, it's him."

"Thank you, Alexi," I said, drawing strength from her words.

With a curt nod, the Captain returned to the marble table and went back to her reports. I spotted the seal of the City Watch stamped on its pages. Probably Drapers Ward business, I thought, but I didn't care to ask for details about what she'd found about Ramsey last night. It didn't seem important compared to the danger that lied ahead of me.

As I crossed the room, though, I glanced a second time at Mother's portrait.

I paused. "Alexi?"

"Hmm?" she said, half-listening.

"Did Father notice the painting?"

Of course, he'd noticed, I thought. Question was, what did he think?

Alexi stared at the painting as if suddenly realizing it was not a normal fixture in my royal bedchambers. "Oh! Yes, he… he said he'd let Erick know." She twisted in her chair to look at me. Her smile was sad. "We'll find a good place for it in the throne room, Your Majesty."

Corvo doesn't understand why I hid it from him, I thought. Or maybe he understands too well.

I nodded and turned away, crossing the long hallway to the bathroom. On my left was the wardrobe, and on the other side of that wall was the safe room.

By now, Rosemary would be awake.

I could only imagine the look on her face when she opened her eyes and realized I'd imprisoned her in my safe room. She could scream all she liked; no one would hear. But I didn't think she would. She had knelt before me, had sworn fealty to me. If she meant it––and that was a big IF––then the smart thing for her to do was to be patient.

I would deal with her when I had more facts on my side.

I found Coral on her knees beside the tub, swirling fragrant oils into the water. "Good morning, Coral," I said, disrobing. "Did you see the pant suit I left out for you? You'll take care of it, won't you?" There was a catch in my voice. "It was my mother's…"

"Majesty, are you all right?" Coral asked, climbing to her feet. Her eyes were smothered with worry. What would become of the things I left behind? Would anyone care that a little eleven-year-old girl had worn her mother's clothes, just to feel close to her again?

It'd been too big, but now I was a woman grown. Everyone said I was a spinning image of my mother.

But my eyes were Corvo's.

"It's just the anniversary," I said, forcing a smile. "A sad day, but I'll get through it."

Like I always do.

"Brave girl," Coral said, her eyes so motherly.

I stepped naked into the teeming bathwater; it smelled strongly of lavender, a fragrance my mother had loved. Coral remembered, I thought. She'd been one of my mother's chambermaids, long ago. "Thank you, Coral," I said.

For the unspoken gift.

I dipped beneath the water until it sloshed against my shoulders. I sighed, my aching muscles melting into the heat. Coral smiled tenderly and made for the door.

"Oh," she said, forgetting herself.

She slipped out the morning's paper from her apron pocket. I couldn't help but leer at it. Yesterday's news had been Ichabod's murder, front and center. I dreaded what the Dunwall Courier had in store for me today… and what tomorrow's front page might say? 'EMPRESS SLAIN!', perhaps?

"It's nothing as terrible as yesterday's," Coral promised, handing it to me.

"Small mercies," I said dryly. I held the paper above the water.

"Oh, shall I call for Rosemary? I haven't seen her yet. Didn't she want to play for you?"

I stared at her.

'No, Coral. Rosemary can't come out to play because I've locked her up for being a witch.' But instead I said, "Yes, I mean no, it's fine. I let her go to visit with family. They've come very far from Morley." I sweetened the lie with a smile. "You may go."

"Majesty," she said, closing the door behind her.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. Lies upon more lies… It festered the soul.

"Everything's going to be okay, Emily," I told myself as I unfolded the Dunwall Courier. It was eerie. Just another day, in some respects. The morning paper. The bath. Breakfast. When do we get to the part where I'm no longer Empress?

I read the front page, the edges bleeding gray as they got too close to the water. 'Dunwall Anticipates Sad Anniversary. Today marks the Fifteen Year Anniversary of the assassination of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin, taken from us far too soon by deadly conspirators.

The yearly remembrance will include a private ceremony to be held within Dunwall Tower, which will host distinguished guests from all corners of the Empire. Young Empress Emily is expected to recall fond memories of her mother, and to address the people of Dunwall directly via street speaker.

Business owners throughout Dunwall say they have received an influx of visitors in preparation for this day of mourning, and are providing food, lodging, and all manner of items and services during their stay.'

"At least someone's happy," I mumbled. Profit to be made, as always. I flipped the paper aside (it slapped hard against the floor tiles) and held my breath, sinking beneath the water.

I buried myself in silence and heat.

It was a joyless bath. I scrubbed my skin with a sea sponge and rid my hair of oil and grime. I toweled myself dry, wincing with a swollen heart when I recalled yesterday's bath––Rosemary's flirtatious laughter as she knelt before me and blew between my legs, teasing me.

Were all witches masters of seduction? I wondered, sitting at my vanity and going through the motions. I fought my wet hair, combing through stubborn tangles, all the while staring at myself in the mirror like I was slowly going mad. I towel-squeezed the strands as best as I could, then wrapped a white towel around my body and stepped out towards my wardrobe.

"What to wear, what to wear," I mumbled down the hallway. Not a bloody dress. I hated dresses. Why did Rosemary like them so much? Was that a witch thing?

"No, a Morley thing," I said, shaking my head. I paused, noticing Alexi was gone.

I craned my neck. "Captain?"

A mild spike of fear hit the back of my throat. It's probably nothing. I went left, leaning against the door that led out of my bedroom and listened for voices.

When I stepped back, hearing nothing, I turned towards my bed and saw him.

The Outsider was lounging in the center of my bed, his legs casually crossed and his hands clasped over his chest. His black eyes glowed like orbs of onyx, sucking the light out of the room. My bedroom had been aglow with morning sunlight, but now the air was chilled, and a damp grayness permeated every surface.

I felt like I was inside a storm cloud that had suddenly struck lightning into my heart.

"Outsider," I breathed, frozen in shock.

"Good morning, Empress. Or should I say, bad morning?"

He sounded amused, his mouth relaxed into a lazy grin. He was dressed as before: a high-collared black suit with glossy boots to match. I felt a ridiculous surge of annoyance that he was lying on my bed with his shoes on.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked me.

I scowled. "You know the answer to that. You watched me, didn't you?"

"Helplessly." He cocked his head, smirking. "Come, Empress. Join me on your imperial bed. Let's… talk."

My eyes shot to the bed and instantly I thought of sex. It was hard not to. His black eyes were sultry. Seductive. I was mortified! He was the Outsider. Surely, he knew that I knew he could unravel me with a single look.

I took one step closer, then another. I forced myself to stop. "Where's Alexi?"

He sighed in exaggerated slowness as if bored with my question.

"Frightened, little sparrow––don't be afraid. The good Captain hasn't moved an inch."

He disappeared in a swirling black river, like a mirror exploding, then reappeared the next instant, leaning over my bare shoulder from behind, his cold fingers gliding under my hair. He swept the strands away from my ear, baring my neck. I turned my head towards him, drawn like a magnet, as rain began to pound in heavy sheets around us.

The rain startled me almost as much as his touch.

It felt real, as if a waterfall had suddenly opened up above us. A thick mist rose from below, obscuring all view of my bedroom walls. I felt his breath hot against my ear as he leaned over me like a crashing wave. His breath was cold, like the deepest and darkest depths of the ocean.

He whispered, "Don't you see her?" Gods, his voice was pure sex. Was he hot or cold? I felt it both, and it was agonizing to untangle. With the heat, I wanted relief, a cold touch, but in that frozen spell, I wanted warmth, for him to be near. What was he doing to me?

The gray mist parted and I saw a ghostly image of the Captain sitting at the foot of my bed, still pouring over her reports. Her blue uniform looked distorted by the black rain that moved in unnatural spirals around her. She wasn't reacting to our voices or the Outsider's presence. It was like our first encounter during the Sunset Regalia; we seemed to be standing outside of time itself.

"Where are we?" I whispered.

Was this the Void?

Father had once tried to describe it. The Outsider had visited his dreams during the Rat Plague, pulling him into the Void. The Void was the Outsider's domain and the source of all magic in the world. Corvo had described a shadowy world, sharp and cold, but fluid like a dream.

"Not where, when," the Outsider said. "We are still inside your bedroom, but time has… drifted."

He circled me, then, like a shark. I felt naked beneath his gaze, wrapped in nothing but a towel, the bare skin of my arms turned to goosebumps in the cold. His stare set my nerves on fire. I couldn't stop looking at him.

I watched his black eyes for where they watched, but it was hard to tell. The black was all encompassing; he had no pupils. He simply swallowed me whole, ensnaring me with his seductive gaze. Black rain continued to pound in heavy sheets around us, but we remained within, untouched but for a cold gray mist that dampened my skin.

The sound of the rain was deafening, but when the Outsider spoke, his voice seemed to drink power from it, silencing all else.

"You surprise me, Emily."

"Do I?" I said, my heart hammering in my ears. I tried to sound nonchalant to retain a modicum of power, but every pore in my body was drenched in nervous energy.

I liked that I had surprised him. I wanted to feel special. For him to keeping looking at me.

His lips twisted into a mischievous grin. "You do. Taking Rosemary into your own hands… Lying to your father… Tsk, tsk. I'm surprised you could do that. Has your father not been the most loyal man in your life?"

He paced in front me, back and forth, the curtain of black rain shadowing his movements.

He paused, then, and with a gleam in his eye that scared me, he said, "I wonder, though… What would Corvo do if he knew a witch was locked inside his daughter's safe room?"

This line of questioning clearly fascinated him.

"Don't you dare tell him!" I snapped without thinking.

I understood that he was a god and far more powerful than me, that perhaps I should have been more careful around him, but I was also Empress, and used to giving orders and having them obeyed. The Outsider disappeared again, jagged edges swirling into the emptiness he left behind.

I turned to look, expecting him to reappear at any second over my shoulder… No? Behind me, then?

But nothing happened.

I watched… I listened… My breathing sounded overly loud, indisputable evidence of how riled up he'd made me.I felt abandoned. Alone.

But the water has eyes, I thought. Black eyes.

I spoke into the silence. "You can't tell him," I said in a quieter voice, looking around me into the glistening rain, searching for his face, that pale mask of serenity, his lips curving into a grin that seemed to hold all the secrets of the world.

"Please," I said, shivering in the cold. "It's my story to tell."

"Your story?" The Outsider's voice came from everywhere, yet nowhere. He sounded amused.

"Yes."

I was getting annoyed he was toying with me by not showing his face. "My father explained how it works," I said. "How you work."

"Tell me, Emily Kaldwin," his disembodied voice taunted. "Tell me how I work."

The detached amusement in his voice only goaded me further, setting my temper on fire. How dare he toy with my life? With my father's life! What I said next was scornful, I knew, but I couldn't hold it back. Too much heartache was connected to the Outsider's so-called gifts.

My mother's Heart…

My father's Mark, a looming curse, ever shadowing his future…

Everyone touched by the Outsider eventually succumbed to madness; it was just a matter of time, and some faster than others. That's what Corvo had always taught me.

I spun in slow circles, guardedly watching the rain, unsure where he might suddenly reappear, and said, "You find people who interest you, people whose choices are like ripples in a pond, at the center of everything. You watch them. Watch what they do with the powers you grant them. They're like… books on a shelf that you take down to amuse yourself, wondering as you flip each page: What happens next?"

He emerged from the black curtain of rain, dripping wet, his black hair plastered to his pale skin. Black dewdrops clung to his eyelashes as his black gaze snatched me like a claw.

I felt pulled into him.

It felt like an attack, how easily he drew me in, how easily he made me want him. His seductive gaze was a weapon. I didn't know what to do––this was a battle I had never prepared for. I followed my instincts and grabbed his hands in retaliation, to force contact between us that was me pulling on him.

His hands had been clasped together, held in perfect serenity, but when I touched him, viciously pulling him towards me, he recoiled like I had burned him. His face contorted in… not exactly pain, but not pleasure either. He seemed mostly disturbed, like I had disrupted his game and broken his rules.

I held tight, not letting go.

It was like fire touching ice, but who was fire and who was ice, I didn't know. "Tell me!" I demanded. "Who is trying to break me? How do I lose my throne? By an army? By an assassin? By what?"

His answer was slow and fierce, each word a shattering thunder.

"By… a… witch!"

He yanked me towards him, pulling me into the black curtain of rain. I tried to scream, but I lost my breath. An ocean of water slammed into me from all sides. I was surrounded––no up, no down, just the eerie darkness of an alien world. The sudden inundation ceased and I floated peacefully, a strange voyager with eyes wide open in breathless astonishment.

I heard their songs first.

The whales.

Their eerie vocalizations vibrated across the Deep, rippling with haunting sorrow. I saw two massive bodies emerge from the gloom, their soulful eyes reflecting beams of light that filtered down from above, distorted into ghostly waves as the water displaced at their passing. I could have cried at the beauty of it, but I was already floating in an ocean of tears.

I had no breath to speak as the Outsider appeared before me, the whales passing behind him, their songs echoing into the darkness beyond.

His black hair floated above his head, swaying like seaweed, and his black eyes were Leviathan.

He held out his hand and this time I took it gently. We began to rise, joined together, higher and higher. The water broke, blue sky flashing overhead. I felt something smooth and slippery beneath my bare feet. I gasped in wonderment, sucking in sweet air as we stood on the back of a whale, its plume exploding into the sky, spraying us with foam. I laughed, my heart swelling with unspeakable joy.

I felt the Outsider's eyes on me, but this time I didn't flinch or struggle against the allure when I met his fathomless gaze. He's beautiful, I thought. He doesn't just hear the whale songs, he breathes them. His face was a serene mask, a cold, inhuman echo of the Deep, but his smile…

It held a flicker of warmth. Could it be true? Was he more than perilous seduction? Could he be someone I could trust?

I squeezed his hand. "Will you help me?" I whispered. My voice sounded small and insignificant, caught between the endless ocean and the endless sky.

His lips curved higher, his eyes drifting away from my face to gaze out across the sparkling, unearthly waves. "What is your throne to me? To them?"

He formally clasped his hands behind his back. "They bleed rivers and you do nothing."

I didn't expect that. It sounded political, like he was judging me as a ruler. A bad one at that. Like I didn't care about the suffering in the world. The whales aren't my only responsibility, I fumed, about to scream at him, but when I opened my mouth, I found I couldn't speak. Excuses, that's all I had.

I could scream that I cared––but was it only because the whales were disappearing? When they were plentiful, did I care they were suffering? I could get defensive and say I'd decreed whale oil rationing, but what was one year of scaling back when I'd been reigning for fifteen?

Too little, too late.

Whale oil was the lifeblood of industry, of progress. We gain so much, but what do we lose?

The Outsider's black gaze shifted eerily, watching me struggle. I couldn't defend myself, not now; I had no heart for it. I gazed out over the water, drinking it all in. I marveled at the whale alive beneath my feet, so massive it carried us like a ship riding the waves. It felt unreal. A waking dream.

"Can I stay here forever?"

"Your story is waiting, Emily. What happens next is up to you. It is as you say: your choices are ripples in a pond." His gaze looked out over the waters. "Not a pond, an ocean."

I followed his gaze, reminded of something. "My father once told me: 'Our choices always matter to someone, somewhere.' He said you told him that, in a dream."

The Outsider's smile was suddenly so tight and false, I couldn't make sense of it. "That was… an echo of another's voice," he said, oddly reluctant, as if I had compelled him to answer somehow. "The ones I Mark, we're all connected through the Void… Even if they can't all feel it, I can."

The ones I Mark…

I felt my heart suddenly pounce in terror, afraid he was going to offer me the Mark, or force it on me like he had Father. I didn't think I had the strength to refuse him, not after this, but the Outsider remained silent, watching the waves. The warmth I had felt between us had bled away beneath my fear of being Marked. I wanted nothing more than to be gone from this place––and with something to show for it.

I tried one last time.

"Please. At least tell me if Rosemary is the witch you speak of."

"No."

"No, you won't tell me, or no, she's not the wi––"

A black river swirled around me, carrying me away in the blink of an eye. I was back, standing in the bright hallway of my royal chambers, the morning light streaming through the open windows. A sparrow landed on the windowsill, tilting his head curiously at me, gazing with one beady eye.

It flew away in the next instant.

"Your Majesty?"

I saw the Captain standing, her chair pushed back. She was staring at me in puzzlement. "Should I call for Coral?"

"What?"

She nodded at my legs. I was dripping wet, puddles of water pooled at my feet. My hair was drenched, stuck to my face, and my skin was clammy cold. I touched my face.

"I… no," I softly said. I felt empty. I turned towards the bathroom, but then I paused and twisted back. "Captain, do you know why the whales are dying?"

"The… whales, Your Majesty?"

I said nothing, just padded back to the bathroom, a trail of wet footprints behind me.