Fate, for once, was smiling on Arsenio.
He had finally arrived in Dulcinea, and as luck would have it, Baldo and Willihard were the guards at the gate. He fervently thanked God, the Watchmaker, whoever—something was finally going right. They were his favorites among the guard, and this could come in very handy.
He still did not have a plan as to how to get into the palace. He could have made himself invisible, flown over the walls as a bird or butterfly, disguised himself as someone that ought to be there... The usual watch ways. But he wasn't a watch anymore, was he? He had to stop thinking like that; it was disingenuous, and worse yet, he would still have to explain himself once he was inside, and no amount of magic could do that for him. It would be better to be honest from the outset, he thought. He tried and failed to see if this would play out correctly for him; he was going in blind.
As it was, he changed from his dove form to his human one in a discreet location, and then marched up the long lane and over the bridge that led to the Dulcinean palace.
Distantly, he saw Baldo and Willihard at their stations on either side of the gate. They were making casual conversation, complaining half-heartedly about having been assigned gate duty, which was very boring. But on the other hand, it gave them ample time to talk with no one else in earshot, since the grounds tended to be nearly empty, and so they spent much of these shifts trading gossip. Today, they were trying to figure out why the king had locked the prince in his room several days ago, then suddenly let him out again the next day. Willihard was of the opinion that they had thought that the prince had gotten the queen's handmaid pregnant, but had been quickly proven wrong; Baldo thought the king was simply going mad.
"And you're going to follow a mad king?"
"To the ends of the earth," Baldo said flatly.
Willihard laughed, shaking his head.
As a pair, they were very different, opposites in nearly every way. Willihard was a tall, thin, pale man, with a full head of graying hair and a beard to match; he was a man well past his prime, and well aware of it. Baldo was shorter and more muscular, and quite dark-skinned. He shaved his head, which led to a number of people commenting on his name, and Baldo did not take lightly to that; enough of this had turned him into a hard, quick-tempered man, who did not smile easily.
Arsenio thought it might be rather easier to approach the more moderate Willihard than the firebrand Baldo, but there was really no way to separate them; indeed, their captain nearly always assigned them together, thinking that their personalities balanced each other out, and he was quite right about that. It just so happened to be very inconvenient to Arsenio personally.
As he approached the gate, Baldo and Willihard fell silent, looking at him with expressions of polite disinterest.
"Hello," he said, and then he stopped, because he had hoped that some magnificent plan would spring to mind with a burst of adrenaline, but it hadn't.
Baldo and Willihard looked at each other, Baldo raising an eyebrow.
"I'm here to see the queen," Arsenio blurted out, because it was the truth, and he didn't have anything better in mind.
"The queen doesn't have any appointments today," Baldo said tersely.
"I know that," Arsenio said, before he could stop himself. "Nevertheless, I am here to see her."
"Not without an appointment you're not," Baldo snapped, gripping his halberd more tightly.
Willihard cut in, "What would you need to see the queen for, anyway?" His tone was light and only slightly mocking.
Arsenio considered things he could say that were not the very threatening "Her life is in danger." He didn't have anything that wasn't an outright lie, so he shrugged and simply said, "I just need to speak to her, that's all."
"Are you a friend of hers?"
"Not particularly," he said with a wince, remembering the times he had conspired to keep her under Madame Carp's thumb, so that she would be in the correct place when the time came to meet Anneliese. He wondered if he could mitigate that by telling her of all the times he had conspired to lead Madame Carp away from her, leading her into taverns and flirting with her in all manner of handsome guises while plying her with drinks so that she stayed far from the workshop at night. That had not been strictly in his orders, but she was a beastly woman and he wanted to do what he could for Erika, even if it wasn't much.
"Then why would she want to see you?"
"Oh, I don't think she does. I would just as soon see the king, mind you, but he's in a meeting and it won't be out for hours." He cocked his head to one side, his eyes sliding out of focus as futures slid past his vision. "Yes, he's busy. But the queen is free."
At this, Willihard's easy manner disappeared, and he too gripped his halberd. He and Baldo shared another look, each of them frowning.
"How do you know that?" Baldo demanded, only just restraining himself from holding his halberd to the stranger's throat.
Arsenio rocked on his heels, looking between them. If they stabbed him he wouldn't be hurt, of course not, he wouldn't even feel it—but that would raise further questions as to why such a thing wouldn't leave a wound. "I don't think you would believe me if I told you," he said, and it was true.
"Try us," Willihard said lowly, and he did aim his halberd at Arsenio, although in a more general way than Baldo would have.
He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but of course it did; with Baldo and Willihard at the gate, it was a sign, wasn't it? This was what he was meant to do.
"I am Marisol's father," he said. This did not answer their question, not directly—but Arsenio watched as each man reeled, recalling rumors of the witch's daughter who may or may not have been an enchantress herself, but that witch was supposed to be a widow... But what did death matter to a witch?
"The king is busy," Willihard said faintly, abruptly straightening his halberd so it was no longer pointed at the supposed sorcerer.
"As I said," Arsenio reminded him, "the queen will do."
"What do you want with her?" Baldo asked, and his voice only slightly shook.
"I will not hurt her," Arsenio said gently. "In fact, I am here to protect her. You have my word."
Baldo took one last look at him, then abruptly turned and opened the gate, walking very quickly toward the castle. The gate clanged shut behind him and Willihard sidled over casually to stand in front of it. Arsenio took a respectful step back, holding his hands palm-up to show they were empty. Willihard's expression was stern, but his eyes were full of fear.
Arsenio reflected on this as he waited for Baldo's return. He was not used to being feared. That was one of the few perks of his position; he was usually beneath notice, so he was not even worth a second thought, much less fear. There were times, few and far between, when he had to intimidate someone, but that was always an act. No one had ever known enough about him to be afraid before, but he supposed they had every right. He was immensely powerful, and now he was even off-book! In their eyes, what was there to keep him from turning his vast powers against the weak and fragile humans?
Of course, he knew the answer to that: His great love of the species and millenia of guilt over manipulating them and allowing their suffering.
Arsenio's thoughts turned to the familiar subject of whether inaction counted as cruelty when he felt Baldo reach the palace, breathing hard. The guard's thoughts were still mixed about whether he should fetch the queen or interrupt the king's meeting to tell of the mysterious man at the gate. Should he just kill him, and be done with it? Who would miss him? There was the witch, his wife... but if sending her daughter to prison hadn't incurred the witch's wrath, surely nothing would.
"Baldo?" Erika said, and he looked up; she was on the upper floor, peering over the balcony at him. "What's wrong?" She started down the stairs, her little handmaid, Sara, trailing behind her.
He bowed as soon as she stepped off the last stair, and he missed her rolling her eyes as he straightened up.
"What's wrong?" she repeated, looking him up and down. "You're out of breath—did you run here? I thought you were on gate duty until this evening."
He was surprised that she knew his schedule, and he felt a surge of gratitude at her concern, but he didn't know what to tell her. The king had ordered him and Willihard to never speak of Marisol to anyone, but the man had said he wanted to speak to her... Did that mean that she knew? He had known the king's schedule; would it be so strange if he knew the intimate conversations between the king and queen as well? Perhaps he was a spy of some sort, although what kind of spy would come right to the front gate and announce himself...
"Baldo?" Erika said, somewhat impatiently. "What is going on?"
He hesitated for one more second before saying, "There is a man at the gate who wants to speak to you."
"Who is he?"
"I do not know, Your Majesty. But he claims to be—"
"Claims to be what?" Erika said, very impatiently.
"He says he is Marisol's father, Your Majesty," he said, and he held his breath to see if the name would be recognized.
It was. The blood drained from Erika's face, and in a second she had ripped open the front doors and was nearly sprinting down the cobblestone path toward the gate, Sara and Baldo following close behind.
Arsenio watched the three of them come into view over Willihard's shoulder, and he kept himself from smiling; he didn't want the act to be seen as sinister. But he was overjoyed to see Erika. It had been far too long.
Erika finally came to a stop at the gate, not opening it but staring at Arsenio through the bars; Willihard moved aside cautiously, ready to leap between them should the need arise. Similarly, Baldo stood behind her, ready to grab her back if she should make any sudden, foolhardy move toward the stranger. Sara was looking helplessly between all the adults, trying to work out what was going on.
Erika, for her part, was confused. She had never seen Marisol, and had no idea what to expect from her father, but this man seemed... Ordinary. In fact, he could only reasonably be described as nondescript. He had an average height and an average build. His hair wasn't very long or very short. His nose wasn't too straight or too crooked. She could find nothing uncommon or remarkable about him at all. He was almost unnerving in his averageness.
She stared at him for a long moment, then suddenly turned to Sara. "Sara, you're dismissed for the day. I want you to go to your room, and I don't want you to talk to anyone on the way back. Do you understand?"
Sara cast a final, frightened look at Arsenio, and then nodded, dipping into a curtsy and then scurrying off toward the castle.
Once she was out of earshot, Erika leaned in, Baldo and Willihard both moving forward too, as if tethered to her: "Who are you?"
"I am Marisol's father," he said, although saying it out loud felt like poisoning the air. "But I am much more than that. I need to speak to you, urgently."
"I'm here," she said.
"Privately," he said.
"I think not," Baldo said.
Erika tried to size the stranger up, wondering if he was dangerous, or crazy, or maybe both.
"What do you need to speak to me about? At least tell me that much."
Arsenio looked pointedly at the pair of guards.
"I trust Baldo and Willihard with my life," Erika said dismissively. "Don't worry about them."
Arsenio considered for a moment, but if she insisted... "Preminger has escaped from prison and now plans to kill you, Dominick, Julian, and Anneliese. His escape involved my wife, Reina, and also magic. She also gave him his hit list. I am also a magical being, which is only somewhat related. I can explain some of these things in greater detail, at your discretion."
Erika's jaw had dropped at the mention of Preminger. Baldo and Willihard, to their credit, had been steadfast until hearing Reina's name. All three were reeling, but Erika was the first to recover.
She said, "Prove it."
Arsenio frowned. "Prove what?"
"You said you're magic. Prove it." She crossed her arms, trying to appear tough and unmoved, but Arsenio knew both her mind and heart were racing. She didn't want to believe him, but she already did; now she was just stalling.
"What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know! How would I know what magic can do? Just do something we can be sure isn't a trick."
He considered for a moment, and then double-checked there were no extraneous witnesses—better to limit the collateral damage. Then he sucked into himself until he transformed into a single, pale blue rose that fluttered slowly to the ground. He knew they were Erika's favorite and that she missed them, as they only grew in Aurelia. He wished he had brought one for her.
Erika gasped, Baldo swore under his breath, and Willihard poked at the rose with his halberd.
Arsenio released himself and reformed into his regular person shape, under the point of Willihard's halberd, and Willihard yelped and lept back.
He picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off. The back of his brain tingled. "Will that suffice?"
Erika pulled open the gate with shaking hands, and he walked through with deliberate slowness; he felt any sudden movements were liable to be met poorly.
Once he was at her side, Erika seemed to regain her queenly composure. "Baldo, return to your post."
"Your Majesty—"
"I was not asking," she said with a dire look, and Baldo set his jaw but remained silent, resuming his place at one side of the gate, while Willihard took the other.
"You are not in any danger with me," Arsenio said, although he wasn't sure for whose benefit. "Quite the opposite, in fact."
"That remains to be seen," she said, with a confidence that would have made Bertram proud.
She led him into the castle, her step faltering many times as she could not decide whether she wanted to walk ahead of him, beside him, or behind him. But eventually they crossed the threshold and climbed the stairs, and then he finally began to wonder where she was taking him, because they were not going to her tea room, as he had assumed they would; his foreknowledge was still fuzzy from trying to account for himself in his visions. But they came to a stop in front of the council chambers, and Erika took a deep breath before opening the door and poking her head in. The room, which had been very loud, fell into a hush.
"So sorry to bother you," Erika said primly, although Dominick, who had had his head in his hands, lit up at the sight of her. "If I may, Your Majesty, I should like to borrow Sebastian for the afternoon."
Dominick's smile faltered, and his gaze flickered to his guard, who almost looked surprised himself. "By all means." He waved his hand carelessly.
"Thank you ever so much, Your Majesty."
Fervent whispers peppered the room as Sebastian made his way across it, but as soon as he had extricated himself and the door swung shut, the volume swelled to what it had been previously.
Sebastian looked between the queen and the stranger. "My lady, if I may, who is this?"
Erika said, "Marisol's father," just as Arsenio said, "Don't—" but it was too late.
Sebastian's eyes widened, and his hand went immediately to his belt and the sheath he kept there; he ripped his dagger out of it and held it to Arsenio's throat, pinning him against the wall.
Erika gasped and lunged at Sebastian, trying to pull on his arm and loosen his grip, but he would not budge. "Sebastian, don't—"
He ignored her. "How did you get in here?" he growled.
"Through the front gate," Arsenio said flippantly, although he regretted it immediately. He didn't want Baldo and Willihard to get into trouble for it.
"I let him in," Erika said.
Sebastian glanced at her, his jaw clenched.
"He says we're in danger! Please, we have to at least listen to him!"
Sebastian didn't move.
"I don't want to be alone with him," Erika said, still tugging ineffectually at Sebastian's arm. "That's why I came and got you. I'm afraid! And I'm even more afraid that what he's saying is true and Preminger really is coming to kill us all. That's why I needed you here."
Sebastian's gaze softened as he looked at the queen, and he unceremoniously dropped Arsenio, replacing the dagger on his belt.
"Dominick needs to hear all of this, too, but I couldn't pull him out of his meeting. It's bad enough I got you! But I needed someone else here."
Sebastian nodded, although he was looking at Arsenio now. Arsenio didn't have to read his thoughts to know that he dearly wished he could cut the man down where he stood. But he respected the queen's wishes.
"I will do whatever it takes to make you each feel comfortable," Arsenio said, trying to be reassuring. "Would you like to lock me in a dungeon cell? Perhaps in the stocks or on a rack? I assure you it would be no trouble for me."
"We're not going to toture you," Erika said, aghast, although Sebastian looked to be considering it.
"I don't feel pain," he said. "But if it would comfort you, you may do so."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow, and Erika blinked several times in rapid succession before shaking her head.
"Let's just... Sit down in my tea room, and you can explain everything."
Arsenio nodded.
Sebastian shoved Arsenio along in the direction of Erika's tea room, and Arsenio took the hint and started off. He wondered if he should pretend not to know where it was, but he didn't particularly want Sebastian to keep pushing him. He wasn't hurt by it, no, but it was still rude. So he walked expertly through the corridors, as though he had lived there all his life, and behind him, Sebastian and Erika exchanged bewildered glances.
Once they were in the tea room with the door shut, Erika took the seat Sebastian directed her to, although she looked at him strangely; he did not care as he directed Arsenio to a spot directly opposite, as far from the queen as he could arrange. Then he took the position he usually took, standing behind the queen's seat, to her right, with his hand resting on his dagger.
Arsenio drummed his fingers on the tabletop, wondering if he should speak first, or if Sebastian would read that as aggression and throw the dagger at him.
"Alright, well, we can't just sit here in silence all day," Erika said suddenly, tired of the long silence. "So feel free to start, Mister—I don't even know your name."
"My name is Arsenio."
"Alright, Arsenio. Start at the beginning."
He frowned, considering his options.
"What's the matter?"
"I don't know where 'the beginning' is. Do you mean the beginning of my life as a watch, over two thousand years ago? The beginning of my relationship with Reina, nearly six hundred years ago? The beginning of Marisol's obsession with power and control? Or do you mean the beginning of recent events, like Preminger's escape from prison and my defection?"
Erika looked back over her shoulder at Sebastian, who was looking at Arsenio fearfully.
"Start at the very beginning," Erika said.
"If you insist."
Arsenio took a moment to gather his thoughts, and then began his story...