Chapter 48. Suspicion and Running
"I did not really see the point of it," Waltz says with a smile.
We are taking tea with the rest of my family, and Emelaigne is recounting her brother's fencing lesson that she watched, and Rod had failed miserably again. Rod seems frustrated with his lack of progress in that area, and Emelaigne compares it to her own lack of skill in dancing. Waltz, who had also been there, had been offered a lesson but he had politely declined.
"It's easier just to freeze attackers in ice," my husband notes. "Or push them away, or surround yourself with a wall of flames so they leave you alone, or…."
"That's easy for you to say," Rod grumbles, and Ophelia laughs.
"I think we can all agree that Waltz has other things to learn before dueling with a sword becomes a worthy goal," Ophelia notes.
"I still do not see why you find it so hard, Rod," I say with a grin. "After all, you dance well enough. You just have to change your mindset from trying to gracefully move around your 'partner' to ensuring they end up defeated before you do. Fighting is simply dance with aggression added."
"That's easy for you to say," Rod sighs. "Apparently, you can do both quite well."
My father startles, and blinks. "Lucette?" he asks. "Since when could you use a sword?"
I blink, quite grateful that I have just popped at small pastry into my mouth as chewing gives me time to think. I cannot tell him the truth. What I say has to fit with Rod knows, and as far as I can remember, the only thing Rod knows is that I had been practicing with Karma, and that I did not tell Garlan who had taught me. I could imply that Fritz had taught me, which would yield the least suspicion, or else I could tell another partial truth which might make my father trust Alcaster less. I decide to simply mix up my timelines again. It might not hurt to put Father on his guard a little. Maybe he would decide to send Ophelia and my siblings somewhere safe, just in case something is going on like Tuttle and Decimond have been telling him. To me, the evidence that danger is near is about a subtle as a blood on a wedding dress.
"Well, I have not practiced for some time, for obvious reasons," I note, as if a bit upset with this. Then I blink, as if surprised by something. "What do you mean, 'since when?' You mean that you did not find out? But then why…?" I trail off as if confused.
"I had no idea you were taking lessons!" my father tells me.
"Then why was she dismissed about a year and half ago?" I ask. "The knight I had convinced to teach me, I mean." It comes to mind that Jurien and Garlan had been dismissed about a year and a half ago, not too long before my father had renewed his contact with Ophelia. I can see the wheels spinning in my father's head, and he can only think of one female knight that had been dismissed at that time, and he startles but I continue before he can say anything else. "Of course I assumed that you had found out that she had been giving me lessons, that we had become friendly with each other, and then you dismissed her.
"Now, I could have understood had you told me that you were upset with me for doing something behind your back and had punished her as well for allowing me to," I continue. "But you did not tell me that. So, I had assumed that you had dismissed her for the same reason Mother dismissed the only maid I ever became friendly with; I had assumed that you thought that I should not make friends with anyone too far below my own station."
"Which was why you were so furious when I married Ophelia?" my father asks softly.
I actually had been angrier than usual when that happened. My father, who had never had time for me, had found time to court and marry a baker of all women! If he had wanted a second wife, at the time I would have preferred that he had married a noblewoman that might have paid attention to me rather than a commoner widow with two children that I assumed would have already had a monopoly on all the affection she had to offer. I had not considered that Ophelia might have wanted to love me as well.
"Of course I was angry that you had different standards for your behavior than my own," I tell him.
"But in spite of what you thought," my father asks, somewhat confused, "you did not think that I would mind you marrying Waltz?"
"Heroes of the realm always have privileged status," I answer. "Waltz was the man that I decided that I wanted…but I figured that after what he did to stop the Great War, you would let me have him for that reason. But…you say that you never knew that I had been taking lessons with a sword?"
"I…think that we have discovered another one of our 'miscommunications,' Lucette," my father says slowly, and then he sighs. "Was it Jurien Valiente that was teaching you?" he asks, and I nod. "Why was she teaching you? Did she want something of you?"
"She was teaching me because I asked her," I answer. "The only thing she asked of me concerned my own safety. I was only to pick up and use a sword as a last resort, in defense of my own life. She wanted me to let the knights do any necessary fighting, should there be danger."
"Was she always honest with you?" my father asks next, as serious as death.
"Yes," I answer. "Well, I never caught her in a lie, anyway…so she was a great deal more honest with me than you were. You have tells that I can easily read when you lie to me, by the way…not that you have done so lately.
"Now, sometimes she simply wouldn't tell me something. Like the last time I saw her, she was clearly troubled about something, but would not tell me what it was," I say, but I know that she was and still is troubled about Garlan's absence, and about what had and what had not happened between them. "But there was something that had to be done, and apparently it could go badly. I do not think she would have considered herself any kind of an honorable knight if she left whatever duty it was unfinished."
My father pales. "Oh no," he whispers.
"What?" I ask.
"Her dismissal did not have anything to do with you," my father answers. "But now I…I have to wonder if there was a serious miscarriage of justice."
"Well, what did happen then?" I ask.
"She and another knight brought a serious concern to me about one of their superiors…Sir Alcaster in fact," my father slowly answers. "I was not sure if I should believe them, and I allowed Alcaster and Mythros to convince me not to. Both knights were stripped of rank and dismissed for what I believed to be their lies."
I blink. "So…my mother's most loyal servant and the man accused persuaded you that there was no truth at all to her words? Did you even bother to investigate her claims?" I ask dryly, already knowing the answer.
"No, I didn't," he admits, shaken, "and now I realize that I should have. By now, any evidence would have faded, so I will never know for certain."
After tea is done, Rod walks with Waltz and I toward the secret entrance we intend to use to go down to the laboratory so I can get some work done tonight. "You did not mention that you had found out later why they had been dismissed," my brother notes when he is certain that the three of us are alone. Of course, he cannot sense that I have a sound barrier that moves with us up anyway. "It was some time after our parents married, I presume?"
"It was," I admit, knowing that I have to distract him from the timeline before I mess things up. Rod knows that I knew what had happened before I set foot in the Marchen, because I had explained the situation to Fritz. "I did not tell Father that because he needs to realize on his own that he cannot trust Alcaster. He trusts him so much I doubt anyone could convince him that he should distrust him without solid evidence of some kind. And I hope he realizes what is going on before it is too late. I believe something is getting close."
"Something?" Rod asks.
"The soldiers are divided against each other," I start, "there has been an attempt to corrupt me and the agent was silenced by murder, criminal activity has increased in the last several months as if someone wants to raise coin quickly…. My only question is if it will be sedition or a coup," I tell my brother. "And a coup has no need of coin."
"And you are certain Sir Alcaster might be involved?" he asks.
"Suspicions are not the same thing as proof," I answer. "Father would demand proof. Just…do not trust Alcaster. Tell your mother and Emelaigne that they should not go anywhere alone with him, or his Redarms. If you have to go anywhere with guards, insist that they not be Redarms. I do not care what excuse you make for it."
"I…will make sure they know. But I would be helpless if they did try anything," Rod admits, bitterly. "It's not like I could hold Sir Alcaster…or anyone else…off with a sword."
"Considering he is arguably the best blade in Angielle…no," I tell him. "And even if you throw yourself into your dueling lessons, you cannot hope to get that good within a month."
"How good did you get?" he asks me, curiously.
"I could beat Jurien about half of the time before our lessons stopped," I admit. "When we were all at the Marchen, I beat Karma once, but that was because I was able to distract him. Karma is a little better than Fritz, but sometimes all it takes is a distraction and a split second to end up dead upon your enemy's sword, even if your opponent has a lesser skill than you."
Still, Rod looks impressed. "And I can't even land a single hit!"
"Try thinking of it like dancing through your opponent," I suggest. "Remember, you are trying to best them, and your life is the prize you are fighting for if you ever have to pick up a sword to actually use it. In your situation…it would be a better idea to get behind someone who does know how to use a sword rather than to attempt to use one yourself."
Rod blinks at me. "You're afraid that I'll probably chop off my own foot if I try to actually use a real one."
"That is a real possibility."
…
"I believe that I owe you my gratitude once more, Your Highness."
I turn, and see Sir Decimond coming up to walk beside me once again. Another week has passed without the tinderbox being lit. I am sure that it will happen soon. Maeve has stopped two attempts to poison Sir Willard; Alcaster clearly wants him out of the way. Of course, we have hidden that the attempts were even made, so Alcaster thinks the failings were accidental. Otherwise, Maeve's presence might be revealed. "It is the witch that came upon them by chance that you should be thanking."
Sir Decimond nods. "I would express my gratitude to her as well…if I could find her. I…do not know what I would have done had those street roughs succeeded in carrying off Viorica."
"You would have come to me for help finding her, likely," I answer, and my father's political advisor nods.
When Viorica had been coming home from the toyshop yesterday, two street toughs had caught her, and attempted to carry her away. Witch Muddy Shoes…I really will have to learn her name someday…had happened upon them and had cursed the street toughs. Knowing that Viorica had some connection with my siblings, Muddy Shoes had taken Viorica to the nearby Marchen and the two of them told me the entire story at that time. I had agreed that Viorica had probably been targeted in specific in order to affect either her fiancée or my siblings. Jurien had delivered a note from Viorica to her mother to let her know that she was safe, and Viorica stayed in the Marchen that night and remains there still. I delivered a similar note to Sir Decimond myself this morning.
"You certainly would have been the one I would have turned to," he admits. "At least she suffered no injuries."
Chevalier had taken a look at her, and judged nothing broken or sprained. She had only gotten a few minor bruises and a bad fright from being manhandled. He had finally been able to completely break his curse, and Viorica had been his first patient since that time.
"And I can only assume that someone wanted both you and I distracted," I mention. "Or perhaps someone wanted a way to influence you."
Sir Decimond's stride stiffens before he resumes his normal gait. "It is getting close, Your Highness. I can only hope your hound finds the needed evidence before the axe falls." He has long since guessed that I suspect Alcaster, and that Sir Willard is the hound I am using to catch him. After all, 'something' did happen in the form of someone trying to corrupt me by attempting to murder my son, giving me a trail to follow, and Sir Willard is who I picked to lead the investigation. Sir Decimond guessed that since I had not been satisfied with Alcaster as my father's suggestion to lead the investigation, it was because I was certain that Alcaster was involved with the crime.
I glance out the window as we pass one, and see that the practice field is full of knights that wear red sleeves to differentiate themselves as belonging to Alcaster…and there are none without. The division is only getting worse. Now, they will not even perform patrols together…which means that there is an increased risk of something happening when the Redarms have patrol duty within the palace. And I know that it is still too soon…I still have not heard from Veles. Fritz and the others should have found him long ago. If Veles does not agree to aid me in this cycle, I see no reason why he would in any other. My child would be doomed…unless I embraced corruption.
But I have to believe that Fritz will succeed. He has to succeed. If only I could talk to Veles personally, I am sure that I could convince him. But I would not be able to find him myself, with as little time as there is left. Until I hear from the final Bearer…I have to ensure that Alcaster remains alive and a threat.
And that makes me sick. What do I do if Sir Willard finds the proof I need to convince Father, and Alcaster is jailed or killed before the next cycle can be triggered safely? Would I need to set him loose myself before his execution?
"And you seem as troubled by the possibilities as I," Sir Decimond notes.
I have to stop myself from sighing. Sir Decimond has learned my tells, if he knows that I am very worried about something. I do not see this as a bad thing, but I was not trying to be obvious. I am certainly glad that he cannot read my actual thoughts. "I could see this getting bloody," I admit.
Sir Decimond nods. "Viorica assured me in her note that she was safe under your protection…and that of a fairy, apparently."
"She is staying with a friend of mine at present," I tell him. "Would you prefer her to be safe in your own protection at your estate? I can arrange it."
Sir Decimond nods slowly. "It…would be a relief to have her close, but propriety…"
"Find yourself a Chaos priest," I tell him. "It is in no way indecent for your wife to remain in your home, with your own bodyguards. It is only a few weeks until your wedding, anyway. Maybe the Order priest you already have on reserve will marry you a little early."
"That…is a thought," he muses. "She always wanted a large wedding, though."
"There are reasons I wanted and got a quiet one. Large functions present excellent opportunities for poisoning people. It is impossible to watch everyone. They are also openings to take large numbers of hostages if security is lax or can be bribed, a chance to humiliate the groom if the bride can be kidnapped, as well as a good place to start revolutions if you want high profile witnesses," I note, and Sir Decimond actually laughs. And I did not even get to the part where you can hold a counter-coup or an execution, if the bride does not mind wearing a bloody dress. I did not mind…I had a job to do.
"Princess," he admits, "if I did not have reason to trust you, you might be the one foe I might be hesitant to face, even without your magic. If we ever became enemies, you would probably just try to use me to your own ends before destroying me. It is likely that you would succeed."
"I will take that as a complement," I say. And you are not wrong in that. I could try to extend the cycle some more, if Alcaster is wrapped up too quickly. "But either fortunately or unfortunately, you appear satisfied what you have instead of perusing more, so we will never know what might have happened."
"It was a complement," Sir Decimond tells me, "and for some reason, I have the distinct impression that you already have purposes for me should I prove disloyal. Personally, I find the anticipation of your own reign stimulating; you will be a fascinating queen one day. Either fortunately or unfortunately, you did not get all of your traits from your father. As good of a king as he is, you are more analytical and tend to plan for contingency situations better. I am not suggesting your access to the throne should be sped up by any means, but your father would do well to begin delegating actual responsibilities to you soon. You are ready for them."
"Perhaps I will ask him if he has any plans for such when my situation allows," I tell the advisor. "There are other demands on my time, at present."
"Of course, Your Highness," he says. "If nothing else, I presume your magical education takes a significant amount of your time. It would not surprise me to find that you are trying to learn in months what takes most witches years."
"Now you sound like my husband," I admit. I am trying to learn everything as fast as I can, and it is only when I am exhausted that I stop unless my husband makes me stop first. To do this, he usually tells me that it's time for a lecture at which point we go over magical theory or history, or else he otherwise distracts me. And I find my husband attractive enough that it is relatively easy for him to distract me.
Sighing, I return to our original topic. "Tell Viorica that you want to protect her yourself, that you would rather marry her immediately in order to do so while still maintaining decorum rather than having her stay in hiding and not being able to see her until your scheduled wedding. I can arrange for you to travel to where she is staying, or bring her to the palace for the conversation. Something tells me that this is the last bit of quiet before the storm."
Sir Decimond nods. "I would be grateful if you would bring her here, Your Highness. I will be in my office late tonight, if you are available to do so then."
"That should prove no difficulty," I answer.
Sir Decimond eyes me for a moment. "I can only suppose that you and your husband were married by a Chaos priest."
"We were," I answer. "If anyone cares, they have not said anything about it to our faces."
"I doubt anyone would have the nerve, Your Highness," he notes. "Even if you had married quickly for…reasons that might cause embarrassment…no one would comment unless your child arrives more than a month early. A witch princess is given more leeway, as everyone wants you to remain happy enough that you will not start cursing people. My own reputation is fairly sound as of yet, but Viorica might not appreciate the effects of being brought into noble society through a hasty marriage. Rumors start over lesser things."
"If you are concerned about it," I suggest, "tell everyone the truth, as it is much more interesting than the most likely salacious rumor. Street toughs tried to kidnap her, a witch rescued her and brought her to me, and you decided to marry her immediately to place her under your direct protection rather than allow her to return to her own home where she might be at risk. If someone doubts the story, you can tell them that they can come to me for verification. If I repeat what happened once or twice in front of a few gossipy maids, the whole city would be aware of what happened before the wedding takes place in a day or two. I have not yet told Rod or Emelaigne about this, and I am perfectly happy to do so in front of the servants."
"Sometimes the unadulterated truth makes a fascinating story by itself," he admits. "And in this tale, the witch is the hero."
"Which makes it sensational in and of itself, and fashionable as the 'warehouse rescue' is still being discussed in inns and taverns. You said something about wanting to express your gratitude to the witch that rescued Viorica," I tell him. "She would enjoy a tale in which she was the heroine instead of the villain. If you wanted to personally thank her, or send her a token of your esteem, I could arrange that as well."
"That would be more than appropriate," Sir Decimond decides, and then blinks as he realizes something. "You realize that you are advising me, rather than the other way around."
"I think that it is as much as an ally or friend would do. It is not always necessary to stick only to formal roles," I tell him, and he offers me a slight smile. "One final piece of advice; if she agrees, be sure to enjoy the time you are able to spend with her. Every warrior needs respite, which is why you love her in the first place, and there is nothing more precious than moments spent with the one you love."
…
Sir Decimond takes my advice, and marries Viorica after giving the truthful rumors a few days to spread…and spread it does according to Tuttle. I was correct in that the truth was interesting enough to swallow up any salacious rumor in this case. The wedding is small, but my family attends. After taking an afternoon to celebrate the marriage with only their closest family and friends, I use a portal to drop my family off at the palace before opening another one that takes my husband and I back to the Marchen. And I am exhausted with worry that I have still not heard from Veles. Does that fairy want me corrupted!
This might not work at all, and I have no secondary plan. There are no other Bearers within distance, and there needs to be six of us for this to work!
Waltz and I walk past Parfait's room on the way to our own, and I hear…sobs. I motion him to wait as I listen against the door, to be certain of what I hear, and my suspicions are confirmed. Someone is weeping in there.
"Wait here…I need to see what is wrong," I whisper, and he nods and leans against the wall to wait.
Without knocking, I open the door and quickly survey the room. Parfait is sitting on her rug in near darkness, her form and features lit by only the soft glow of the still fractured Lucis…and it looks like it has not changed in months while my own Crystallum is nearly healed! She kneels before it, tears running down her face, and I put up a sound barrier and quickly close the door behind me. No one but me must see her this way. She cannot afford to show weakness before anyone else. Everyone here depends on her.
Parfait turns to look up at me, her eyes reddened. "I'm so sorry, Lucette. I haven't made any headway at all."
"But I need you to," I tell her. "You at least need to be sure that you know how to repair it, and soon." We both know that her work would be undone at the start of the new cycle, but she could redo it on our way to the Throne. The Lucis needs to be intact so she can pass through it. Only then will she be able to help me get into the gods' own city…only then can I save both my son and myself. With all of my concern over Veles…I had not considered that I would have to worry about Parfait helping me!
And then it occurs to me that she has given me no promise of her aid. I had taken her ascent to come with me for granted. Surely she could not be planning to….
Parfait shakes her head slowly at me, still crying. "You don't need me…you need the Lucis Bearer," she says, before she takes a deep breath and continues. "I can call my cousins that are likely to inherit the Lucis from me, and make them agree to go with you and perform as you need them to."
My eyes widen as I step toward her, realizing what she is saying. "You plan to die at the start of the next cycle…you plan to kill yourself! There is no going back if you die this next cycle! You are going to run again!"
"Yes," she admits, "I don't see another wa…" she stops, silent, as I slap her.
We both stare at each other for a moment, her as stunned that she has been slapped as I am for having done so. "I am sorry Fait, but that is not an acceptable option." At least she stops crying, instead staring at me with huge eyes as if she has seen a ghost. I sigh, and reach down to offer her the hand that has just slapped her, to pull her up off of the floor. She looks at it a moment before taking it, and I pull her up. "If you wish it," I tell her, "you can slap me back. I deserve it…but you should not even be considering such a thing!"
The fairy slowly shakes her head. "You have no idea how much you looked and sounded exactly like your mother, just then. It was as if…" she trails off for a moment. "It heavily reminded me of the last conversation we had, before she killed the king…before she fell."
"What happened?" I ask, quietly.
"She…had said that she was going to confront the king," Parfait explains, "regarding the Witch Hunt. About how he had done nothing to protect the witches who had done nothing wrong, and the children that had been murdered simply because they would be witches one day. I…I thought that she meant to curse the king, and under the circumstances this seemed reasonable to me. I told her that I could go with her, present a united magical front. She…told me that it was not 'an acceptable option' and slapped me, but then explained that this was something she had to do herself. She…she told me that after this long, no one would believe a 'united magical front' anyway. The fairies had done almost nothing to aid the witches before now, so if I came with her she said that everyone would suppose that I was there against my will. I…believed her explanation, and was embarrassed that what she had said of the fairies was true. So, I submitted to her desire that I remain out of her way while she 'took care of matters."'
I am quiet for a moment. Mother had known, planned, that she was going to kill the king for not interfering in the Witch Hunt, and had known that Parfait might have stopped her if she had been there. My mother had already decided that she was going to seize power herself, and stop the massacre that way.
Mother's strategy had been deliberate, premeditated…not an act of impassioned anger at being denied the justice the king owed, even if she had tried to present it that way. She does not have even the excuse of a righteous rage to explain her actions. She had accepted corruption willingly, purposefully. Everything in her that could have truly loved me had died before she had even wed my father.
And the pain of that realization filters into the sound barrier I have up, making it even stronger.
"And…and I should have followed her anyway, regardless of what she wanted. I could have stopped her," the fairy sadly says.
"There is no guarantee of that," I remind Parfait. "She might have done it anyway. It takes very little power to kill a human, and she could have done it still while fighting you."
"Possibly," the fairy admits, before giving a quiet, ironic laugh. "I might not have been able to stop her. That last time I saw her…she did not tell me that I could slap her back, though. There is still significant difference between the two of you. You…have no idea how worried I have been over you. You have been working very closely with the Tenebrarum under stressful circumstances, and I know that you will have to repeat your work in the next cycle, with even less time to accomplish it…and that is the best case scenario. You are taking grave risks."
"I know," I tell her. "And I do not have another choice."
"I know that you don't," my friend tells me. "And…I can only hope that you are able to lean on the people around you, that love you, when the weight becomes too great for you bear it alone. That is the only way you can avoid your mother's fate; you must never forget that you love, and that you are loved. That is typically the only reason people turn their backs on what corruption offers them."
I nod. It is why I turned my back on it before…I had known that Waltz was there, trying to snap me out of it. He loved me, and I knew it. "Why do you think that I need you? I would not lean on a stranger, even if she was a cousin of yours. You mean more to me than nearly anyone. Don't run again Parfait…please stop running."
Parfait does not bother to choke back sobs as she folds me into her arms to hug me, and I do not try to quiet her as I return her embrace. A flicker catches my vision, and I look up to see tendrils of gold around the Lucis, and I feel the soft warmth of fairy magic. Of course…uncontrolled fairy magic would warm the room instead of shock people. And I cannot help but smile through my own tears as I hold my friend.
Parfait has found love again, perhaps joy, or even both. And it is high time. "You will stay with me?" I ask her. "You will not leave me…at least, you will not do so on purpose?"
"I'll stay," she promises me between sobs, "I will not take my life, myself. I…I will stop running, and go with you to the Throne. I swear it."
You deserve so much better than an early grave, my friend. You deserve to finally experience life. You have hidden from it for much too long.
"If we can lean on each other, my friend," I whisper to her, "neither of us will fall."
….
