"Princess Anneliese... is going to help me kill someone?" Sebastian said skeptically.
"Well, help may be a strong word," Arsenio allowed. "But I am sure Anneliese could be persuaded to magically incapacitate Reina, which would make it much easier for you."
"And how could she do that?"
Arsenio dithered for a moment before answering, but finally said, "She has her own magic, which may be uniquely suited to this task."
Sebastian stared at him, dumbfounded. "The princess... is magical?"
"I'll explain everything once we're back in Aurelia," Arsenio promised. He thought it would be rather unfair if Sebastian learned about Anneliese's magic before she did. And he was getting rather tired of having to repeat himself.
"What do you mean, we?"
"Well, we have to go back to Aurelia, don't we? That's where Preminger is, so it's most likely to be the place of the first attack. He must be taken care of before we can even begin to think of dealing with Reina."
"If he was still in Aurelia, why didn't he attack right away? He could be on his way here, right now, to throw us off."
"He doesn't have any reason to throw us off, because he doesn't know that we're looking for him," Arsenio reminded him. "As for why he didn't attack right away, he is not one to show his hand unless he can be reasonably sure of the outcome. But I am confident that he will make a move soon, and that it will be in Aurelia."
Sebastian was unimpressed. "Have you seen it? Or are you just guessing?"
"Well... I am guessing," Arsenio admitted, "but it is a rather good guess."
"You're asking me to stake Dominick's life on your guess?"
"I am not doing this lightly. I have given it a great deal of thought."
"How could Preminger not come here first? How could Reina? Dominick caused all of this!" Sebastian cut himself off, looking troubled. "He didn't—I meant—how can you be so sure?"
Arsenio debated with himself for a moment, habitually trying to predict how Sebastian would react to various explanations. He wanted to tell the truth, of course, but truth could have many different sides to it, and then there was the matter of how to word it, different phrasings having differing amounts of weight and nuance...
Finally, he settled on the very straightforward, "Because she was already here."
He saw a kaleidoscope of emotions pass through Sebastian's eyes, and he waited patiently for him to process this.
After a moment, Sebastian found his voice: "What do you mean, she was already here? She—you mean that Reina was here, in this castle?"
Arsenio nodded, and walked into the cell he had occupied the previous night. Sebastian didn't seem to notice.
Sebastian seemed to be teetering, so Arsenio nudged an empty guard's chair with his magic, scooting it over until it was in the correct position; Sebastian sat down wordlessly, seeming very far away. Arsenio could sense several questions battling in his mind to be spoken aloud; all seemed equally likely to be first, as far as he could see.
The first question he managed to voice was "Why was she here?"
"As far as I can surmise, she wanted to be here for Erika's coronation. I don't know the exact reason, as I wasn't here myself, and she's hard enough to read even when she's standing right in front of me."
"You weren't here?"
This actually took Arsenio by surprise, and he blinked. "No, I wasn't. Why would I be?"
"I thought you followed them around," Sebastian said. "Erika and the others."
He shook his head. "I haven't had any new instructions for over two months, not even minor things that don't involve the four of them. I was in Aurelia at the time, although I was watching remotely. I don't really follow them, anyway—when Erika was on her tour, for example, I only checked in periodically."
Sebastian looked like he still had several more questions about this, but he decided against voicing them, and instead focused on the matter at hand: "Did Reina do anything while she was here?"
Arsenio thought for a moment. "Yes and no? No, she did not do anything overtly sinister—she didn't physically harm anyone, she wasn't violent, she didn't poison or curse anything. But she did take the time to rattle Erika's confidence—she was the one who spoke out during the coronation and said that Erika wasn't very pretty."
"That was her?" Sebastian raised his eyebrows. He almost wanted to laugh. "She's a six-hundred-year-old witch hellbent on killing us all and she's that petty?"
"Yes, she is," Arsenio said gravely. "It is that pettiness that makes her so dangerous. She was here, right here, with perhaps all of her intended victims in front of her. She could have slaughtered them right then. But she didn't. She made a game of it." He sighed heavily, and then continued, all in a rush: "I wasn't even here to protect them, I was in Aurelia! If she was going to do something, why not then? Why play all these games? She wants something else. She wants someone—me, them, all of us—to suffer, to stew in paranoia until Preminger makes a move. If all that mattered was everyone being dead, they already would be. If we take care of Preminger, she might decide it's time for her to do something herself. Or she could find another pawn. But we won't know that until he's dead, so we have to take care of him first, and he is most likely still in Aurelia. That is where his family is, that is where his allies are, that is where half of his likely targets are. I know that you don't trust me. But do you believe me?"
Sebastian regarded him for a long moment and then nodded, just once. "Is it... entirely necessary to kill Preminger?" he asked, turning over everything Arsenio had said in his mind. "He's a treasonous bastard, but Queen Genevieve had her reasons for not executing him in the first place. She may have some objection, and while she is not my queen, I would rather not go against her wishes."
"A fair point," Arsenio conceded. "But I do not think we will have a choice in the matter, for a number of reasons. One is that Reina undoubtedly took his blood to seal the deal with him, and thus he may not even be entirely in control of his body; there may be no reasoning with him or talking him down. Another is that even if he did wish to break his contract with Reina... It would not be advisable for him to do so. I could not protect him from her, or break the tie she has created between them. Death in that case would be a mercy, far preferable to anything that Reina would do to him."
Sebastian shivered.
"Queen Genevieve's mercy is not infinite," Arsenio assured him. "Once she is informed of the situation, I am sure she will in fact be quite grateful for your willingness to protect them."
Sebastian nodded absently, lost in thought. "I'll come with you to Aurelia. But I don't want to leave Dominick vulnerable..."
"If I may be so bold as to make a suggestion?" Arsenio waited, but Sebastian did not react one way or the other, so he pressed on: "Baldo and Willihard are already moderately aware of the situation, more so than any other guards in the palace. Together, they may provide a suitable temporary replacement for you."
Sebastian mulled this over, and then his thoughts shifted again: "You've implied that Dominick and Erika should not accompany us to Aurelia... Is that for any particular reason?"
"Several, actually. The first being my confidence of Preminger striking in Aurelia first, so bringing them there would only put them in danger. The second is related, in that I think it is unwise to have them all together, which only makes them much easier to take out in one fell swoop—the palace could be set on fire, the food could be poisoned, et cetera. The third is that, for the sake of appearance, it would be highly unusual for Dominick and Erika to make an unscheduled visit to Aurelia—or vice versa, which could also be an option. Word of it could even reach Preminger, wherever he is, and inspire him to try to take them all out together, as per my second point."
Arsenio rubbed his temples and continued, "It would have been very convenient to protect them all together when they were here, only two weeks ago, and it wouldn't have been too suspicious to extend the visit a bit—but unfortunately it didn't happen like that. Of course, in that case, I don't know what would have happened, because Julian only sought me out because Anneliese had seen something strange in the cell... which wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been in their own palace... I would know that something had happened, but I doubt I would have sought you all out of my own accord. I would have come here, and warded the place, and waited, but... That could have gone any which way." The future he was speculating at was so uncertain he could barely decipher anything from it. He shook his head to clear it.
"You wouldn't have told us anything, just two weeks ago?" Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "You changed your mind quick enough."
"It helps that I don't sleep," Arsenio said lightly, but Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "It also helps that I had many doubts, both before and after I met Reina, about the nature of what I do. This was simply the straw that broke this camel's back." He shrugged. "But in any case, I try to think of the future, not the past. It has already happened, and can't be changed. We can only move forward from here."
"I suppose," Sebastian said, not entirely convinced. Arsenio seemed more given to his whims than he was willing to admit, but Sebastian had no idea how a watch's mind worked; maybe they were all like that. In any case, his reasoning and conclusions seemed solid enough. Sebastian shifted his thoughts back to Arsenio's suggestion for replacements. "Baldo and Willihard? Really?" He wasn't one to speak ill of his fellow guards, but he found it very difficult to put his trust in two of them he did not know well.
Arsenio debated telling Sebastian that it would matter very little who was in the way if Preminger—or Reina—came here, armed with magic, but decided that would only cause unnecessary panic and stress. "They're very capable," he said instead, which was true, under more normal circumstances.
Sebastian was still not quite convinced, but he had no alternatives to suggest, and so he accepted this part of Arsenio's plan. But that did not quite solve everything. "Even if I go with you," he said, although he knew by this point that he would, "how will I explain my absence? I'm Dominick's page, I don't often leave his side." He was not sure why he posed these questions aloud instead of considering them silently, as he most often would only a day earlier. But Arsenio, for all his faults, was uniquely suited to planning things, wasn't he? Wasn't that his entire job? Sebastian was not one to waste a resource that was presented to him, even if he did not particularly like it. And he could always reject or refuse anything Arsenio suggested, if he so chose; Arsenio did not seem keen on forcing them to do anything, as easy as it may have been for him, which was some small comfort in the whole thing.
"There are several options," Arsenio said. "I considered trying to disguise either Baldo or Willihard as you, the way Reina did with Peter, but that raises problems of its own, including explaining their absence, and also I don't think either of them could convincingly act as you. You're a very... particular person, and it would be very noticeable if your behavior suddenly changed. I think the easiest way would be to have Dominick write a letter giving you a leave of absence, which will be considered odd but shouldn't be questioned too closely by your captain."
Again, Sebastian could think of no better option, so he simply nodded. He was beginning to wonder whether Arsenio was only suggesting things that he knew he would agree to.
"Now, as for how we'll get to Aurelia..."
Dominick kissed her neck, and Erika wished she could indulge him. But her mind was still churning from everything she had learned from Arsenio, and all the questions she still had. Some were for the strange watch-man, and some were for her husband.
"Wait," she said, just before his mouth found hers. He pulled back, looking at her quizzically. "I want to talk to you."
"About what?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wasn't sure what she wanted to say, or even how to say it.
"Oh. That." Dominick disentangled himself from her, then sat down on the divan. He ran a hand through his hair. "Go ahead."
"I'm sorry," she said. "I wanted to get you alone—"
"It was very effective," he said, giving her an impish smile.
Erika chewed her lip for a moment. "I want to know something about Marisol," she said finally, and his jaw tightened.
"What about her?" he said with forced lightness.
"I've been wondering... whether you ever laid with her," she said, almost in a whisper.
Dominick raised his eyebrows. "Why are you wondering that?"
"Hearing Arsenio's story, I started to think about some things. Like when you took me to the ruin of Gothel's manor, and Sebastian said that if he wasn't there, you wouldn't have stopped at kissing. And after you told me about Marisol, and we didn't lay together for a few nights, you asked if I still loved you. Is that... is that how she made you feel? That if she didn't lay with you, then she didn't love you?"
He stared past her, unseeing. She wasn't sure if he had even heard her.
"I'm sorry to ask, but I'm trying to figure out how best to help you. I know some things that helped me, but—"
"Helped you?" he said, suddenly seeming to snap back into himself. "What do you mean?"
"It wasn't exactly the same, obviously," she said, her cheeks reddening. "But it was sort of similar."
"What was similar?"
Erika sighed and sat beside him. His eyes were very wide.
"I haven't talked about this with you—or with anyone, really—because I believe in moving forward and not looking back. Leaving Madame Carp's shop was one of the best things to ever happen to me. That helped me, and it healed me."
He nodded encouragingly when she paused, though he still didn't quite understand where she was going.
"My parents died when I was twelve, and from that point on they couldn't shield me from how awful Madame Carp was. She owned the shop, but she owned me, too, and she never let me forget it. She loved to remind me that it was my fault that my parents had gone into debt, so it was my fault that I was in debt. She used to tell me that they should have let me starve, because that's why they had borrowed money from her in the first place, you know? And heaven forbid I ever complain. She took everything she could away from me, not just because I owed her, but because she could. She was a spiteful old woman, and I wish she could have been arrested when Anneliese bought out her shop, but nothing she did was technically illegal even if it was awful."
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. "But do you know what I had that made life under Madame Carp's thumb bearable? I had Bertie. I had her there to remind me that no matter what Madame Carp said about me, it wasn't true. I wasn't useless or lazy and it wasn't my fault that my parents had gone into debt. They wanted to give me the best life they could, and they didn't have many options, so they did their best, and I was doing my best, too. I don't know what I would have done without Bertie there to be the voice of reason. I guess—I guess I might have ended up being more like you," she said softly, putting her hand on Dominick's. "Scared and sad, but not wanting to burden anybody with taking care of me, even when I desperately need it."
Dominick blinked rapidly.
"I want to be your Bertie, Dominick. I want to be here to always, always remind you that whatever Marisol told you was wrong, whenever you need me to say it. And I want you to know that you don't ever have to do anything special to earn my love, because I already love you." She rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. "You know that I've struggled a lot here, trying to find my footing with the court, and with you. I didn't know what to say when you first told me about Marisol, and I regret that. I was trying to decide whether it would be relevant to bring up Madame Carp, whether it could be the same while being so different. And maybe it isn't. Maybe this isn't what you need to hear, maybe I'm not helping you at all. But I'm going to do my best, from now on, forever, to do whatever you need."
"I told Julian," Dominick blurted out.
"You—what?"
He buried his face in his hands, and his voice came out slightly muffled. "I told Julian about Marisol, when he was here. Not everything, not even her name, but I told him. I don't even know why. He was asking if I had ever liked anyone before being engaged to Anneliese, and I said yes. I never say yes when people ask me that question. But he was here, and he asked, and I told him. And it almost feels like I opened this whole thing up, caused all this chaos by speaking about her for the first time in years. Isn't that crazy? I opened up that wound, and then—you were yelling, and it reminded me of her, and I shut down. And then Sebastian came, and I told you about her, and now her father is here talking about how she wants to kill us. Yes, I know he said it was Reina, but Marisol told me her mother has always given her everything she wanted. She told me, repeatedly, that she always gets her way when her mother is involved. The one that wouldn't budge is her father. I see what she meant, now. The man is unreadable. I believe everything he's told me, and I believe he wants to help, but... I don't believe it, either. I feel like he's hiding something, he must be, even if he said he's been honest. I don't know what to make of it. I'm sure Marisol didn't either."
Erika frowned. "Dominick..."
He raised his head, but his shoulders remained hunched, the picture of tension.
"Do you... still care about her?"
His lip quivered, and she leaned against him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"You don't have to be sorry," she said. "I'm just trying to understand how you feel, so that I can understand how to help you."
He nodded miserably, wrapping his arms around her.
"I hope that you don't think I was harsh before, when I said that you were wrong to blame yourself. I know that it's a difficult situation, and I would never want to sound insensitive. But I do have some experience here. It wasn't exactly the same, but I don't think it has to be for me to be helpful here. I want to help you, Dominick, that's all I ever want to do."
"I know. And I'm so grateful to have you."
She smiled and gave him a very chaste peck on the cheek, which made him smile even as he turned his head, trying to capture her lips with his own. She smoothed his hair and said, "Now... Will you please lie down? I really do think you'll feel much better if you rest for a bit."
Dominick gave a great, dramatic sigh, then kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jacket. "If you insist, Your Majesty," he said, climbing onto the bed. He paused. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"
Erika clambered up after him, but did not lie down; he laid his head on her lap, and she began stroking his hair. He was tired after all of that, even if his head was still spinning.
"I love you," he murmured.
"I love you, too," she whispered back, continuing to finger-comb his hair.
Within a few moments, he was snoring softly, and she gently lifted his head off her lap with one hand, placing a pillow under it with the other. She scooted away, trying not to jostle the mattress, but he didn't stir as she slid off the bed. She straightened her skirts and checked the mirror to make sure her hair was still presentable before slipping out of the room.
While she did believe strongly in the restorative power of sleep, she had another reason for wanting Dominick to nap: She wanted to speak to Arsenio, alone. Sebastian was not at his usual post outside the door, so she wondered if he was still in the dungeon, talking to the watch.
"Your Majesty!"
Erika looked around for the source of the voice, and saw Sir Victor hurrying down the corridor toward her. "What is it?" she said tiredly.
"I'm sorry, I know that you said you did not want to be disturbed today—but your ladies are quite angry," Sir Victor said apologetically. "Is there no way you can meet with them today? If only to get the introductions out of the way."
"My what?" she said, bewildered.
"Your ladies-in-waiting, Your Majesty," Sir Victor reminded her. "They have arrived, and you were supposed to meet with them today."
Erika recalled telling Anneliese about this, worrying how they would react to her, although that felt like years ago. Surely that hadn't been her biggest worry just two weeks prior?
"I don't have time today," she said firmly. "You can tell them that I will see them tomorrow."
"Your Majesty, they are really quite upset—"
Erika inhaled deeply before saying, "I don't care if they're upset. I do not want to be bothered about this again, Sir Victor, do you understand? They will have my attention tomorrow, and not a moment sooner."
Sir Victor dropped into a meek bow. "As you wish, Your Majesty."
"Sir Victor?" she said, as he turned away.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" he said, stopping.
"You are not to carry any of their grievances to me ever again. If they want to complain, they can do it to my face."
His eyes widened, but he nodded before scurrying off.
She shook her head to clear it, then continued her way toward the dungeon. She was still not quite comfortable giving others orders, and it was quite a fine balance between demanding respect and just... being bossy. But if she was ever going to get anything done in this palace, she had to put her foot down sometimes. She was the queen now. This place was hers to run.
"Hello," Erika said pleasantly as she entered the dungeon.
Sebastian rose to his feet in one fluid motion. "My lady, is something wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. But I want to speak to him," she said, "alone." She smiled, but she was not looking at him; she looked past him to the watch. Her eyes were not smiling.
Sebastian looked between his queen and the watch, his brow furrowed; he clearly wanted to say no, but did not want to go against her wishes. As it was, he walked stiffly forward and shut the cell door, as useless a gesture as it may have been.
"Would you have me wait, my lady?" he asked, although he was reasonably sure of her answer.
"No, thank you, Sebastian," she said. "I would prefer that you be on hand when Dominick wakes up. He'll be wondering where I am."
Sebastian dipped his head, casting one final apprehensive glance at Arsenio, and then left the dungeon, shutting the door behind him.
"Did you two have a productive conversation?" she asked idly, taking the chair that Sebastian had vacated.
"I think so," Arsenio said mildly. "What is it you want to discuss with me?"
She hesitated for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. She had a great many questions, but she wasn't sure where to start. She was also worried about Dominick hearing where she was and barging in, trying to be chivalrous where Sebastian wouldn't.
"Dominick is likely to sleep for thirty-seven more minutes," Arsenio said, as though reading her thoughts—and maybe he was. "Perhaps as long as an hour. It largely depends on the songbirds in the garden. They're fickle creatures, quite difficult to predict." He paused. "In any case, I think we will have enough time to answer your immediate questions."
She took a moment to process this, and then said, "Now that's something right there. How do you decide when to do that?"
"Do what?"
"To tell us the future—sometimes it seems like you don't want to say anything, but other times you'll just give information like that. How do you decide?"
He considered for a moment. "Some things are far more certain than others, so it makes sense to provide that information when I can. Other things, like the situation we're in with Reina and Preminger, are very uncertain, and telling you things that could happen would only needlessly distress you."
"What if I wanted to know everything that could happen? Would you tell me?"
"But you don't want to know that. I know that you don't," he pointed out.
"Maybe not. But would you keep information that I asked for from me, if it would distress me?" she pressed.
He stared at her for a long moment. "I am trying to also keep people's privacy, when possible," he said finally. "I sometimes slip, but I am trying. It is the least I can do for them, when I am already privy to so much. Too much."
"This isn't about anyone else," she said, tired of his dithering. Did he really think that she would come here to get Dominick's secrets, or anyone else's? Perhaps he wasn't as good at mindreading as he thought. "This is about me. It's about my life, and what you did to it."
Arsenio squared his shoulders. "I will not lie to you," he said firmly. "I will tell you anything you want to know."
Erika leaned forward, and he mirrored her without thinking. "Did you sabotage my tour?"
"Did I—what?" Arsenio blinked. "No, I didn't."
She leaned back, rolling her eyes. She did not believe him.
"Why would you think that I did?"
"To lead me back here," she said, making a sweeping gesture, "so that I would be with Dominick. That's my destiny, after all."
He struggled to understand her position without peeking into her mind. "Is that what you think? That your destiny is only to be Dominick's wife?"
"Isn't it?" she said, tears pricking in her eyes. "I mean, I guess on some level, I'm supposed to be grateful to you, right? Grateful that everything that happened in my life led me to Dominick. Grateful that I suffered."
"I don't think that," Arsenio said quietly, not quite looking at her. "I do not think you must be grateful. You can be angry, or sad, or however it is you feel."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Did you ever feel bad about it? About keeping me there? Or did you tell yourself that you were justified, because someday I would be happy? Because someday I wouldn't be starving, and cold, and miserable. Someday it would all work out for me."
"Of course I felt bad about it," he said at once. "If I could sleep, it would have kept me awake at night. But for over two thousand years, I have believed that the ends can justify any number of means. And that I could not possibly help everyone, no matter how hard I tried at it." He sighed. "I understand if you're looking for someone to blame. It is not often that a human can pinpoint the cause of their suffering. If that will make you feel better, by all means, please do so."
Erika wiped away her tears, glaring at him. "This isn't about blame. I just don't ever want you to pat yourself on the back for whatever you did to shape my life. Do you understand me? You don't get to feel good about the outcome when getting there put me through hell. And I just—I don't understand—" She cut herself off, balling her fists.
"You don't need to spare my feelings," Arsenio said quietly. "Be as blunt as you like."
"Why did it have to be this way?" Erika exploded. "Why this way, and not some other way? This way makes me feel terrible, like I don't belong here or deserve any of this. It could have been different. It could have been better. But you said that someone, somewhere, chose this for me. Why did they do it? Why is this way, the way where I'm angry all the time, at everything, the best way for these things to play out?"
"I never said it was the best way," Arsenio reminded her gently. "I would never claim that. It is simply the way that was chosen. The whims of the Watchmaker are unfathomable; they are following their own designs, which are unknown to me."
Erika stared at him, tears brimming in her eyes.
"I have wondered," Arsenio admitted in a whisper; she leaned forward to hear him better. "I have wondered... whether the Watchmaker has a plan, or if they are making all this up as they go along. Wouldn't that be terrible?"
"Can't you go and see them? Can't you ask? I want to ask, but I'm sure I could never even get close. You could."
"I think I have asked. I think I have gone to the Watchtower before, perhaps many times before, but they don't allow me to remember it. Or perhaps I have gone, and never found answers. Or maybe I've never gone at all. Memory magic is funny that way; I'll never be sure."
Erika shivered.
"I know that you dislike me, and it is your right, but I want to make something clear. My job is not to control people, my job is to meddle—just the tiniest bit. To implement small, random events that set humans on specific paths, in such a way that it unfolds organically from that point. That's the beauty of it, in my eyes. There is always choice. No matter what happens, no matter how carefully I plan it out, one could always choose to do something different, and I can't control that. I can only try again. And sometimes I don't, because sometimes the plan changes based on those choices." He tapped his breast pocket, where he kept his dossier. "Whatever paths are predestined, it is much more fluid than you're thinking. It didn't have to be this way. It is this way because of how I directed you, yes, but also your own choices."
"But I almost didn't choose this," Erika said, although he certainly knew that. "I almost went to Aurelia instead, to Anneliese. I almost never came here."
"And?" Arsenio leaned forward. "Do you honestly think you never would have seen Dominick again if you didn't seek him out right then? Do you think he would have never come looking for you? Do you think he would have never bumped into you somewhere—perhaps accidentally, or perhaps accidentally-on-purpose? There are a million ways to bring two people together, and it doesn't always involve me."
Erika stared at him, and he sighed.
"More than anything, I want to impress upon you that this is not—and has never been—a question of deserving anything. You are not being punished for anything, you did not incur my wrath or anyone else's by not doing what you were 'supposed to.' Do you remember the story I was telling you about when I met Reina? How I was in that village to ensure that a great knight would be born? Well, he was. But do you know what else happened? The stablehand and the milk maid also got together, and they had a daughter, and that daughter seduced the knight before he was due to ride off to the site of a battle. He was supposed to be at that battle. He was going to turn the tide in their favor, but he overslept, and the battle was lost. Decades of work, wasted! The entire plan was thrown out the window on a whim. The knight fled the village in shame, and no one there ever saw him again."
Erika failed to see how this was relevant. "What happened to him?"
"He traveled in anonymity for many years, and then settled in Dulcinea and planted the first apple orchard here, and the descendants of both survive to this day. Plans change all the time, and it doesn't mean you're punished for not doing what you were supposed to do, only that you end up on a new path. Here," he said, pulling his dossier open and opening it to a seemingly random page. "You can't read this, can you?"
She looked hard at the page, but she saw only lines—or were they blobs? And were they moving? Her head swam, and she shut her eyes, shaking her head. When she opened her eyes again, Arsenio was looking at the page fondly.
"It's the plan for your life. A few short sentences explaining your connection to Anneliese—that you look alike, and share a birthday—and that you will one day marry Dominick and be a great queen. The how of it all came later on. But this is all that was written when you were born. Anything could have happened in the past twenty-two years to lead you here." He looked up at her. "You think that your destiny is only to be his wife, but really it is to be queen. One follows the other, but I assure you, your destiny is far from over."
Erika made a scoffing noise. "Sure."
He chewed on his lip, hesitating, and then said, "Bertram, of all people, said you may be the greatest queen the kingdom will ever see. He would never say such a thing to your face, of course, but he believes it whole-heartedly. That is why he pushes you so hard. If you can weather him, if you can stand firm against him, you can handle anyone this kingdom can throw at you, I assure you."
"Great," she said sarcastically. "Another person pushing me because it'll make me stronger. That's just fantastic."
He considered for a moment, and then said, again in that hushed, almost shameful tone, "I have speculated that this may be why the Watchmaker wanted you to remain in the village. That perhaps they view your anger as your strength, rather than the weakness you see it as."
"My anger? I had to have a miserable childhood so that I could grow up to be an angry queen?"
"You know what it is like to live under injustice, Erika. Are you really going to let your people suffer like you did?" She stared at him, so he continued, rubbing his temples. "You are a new queen, but really—you are a queen now! You haven't yet realized what this means, what you could do, what you can have others do for you. You have the power to change this kingdom for the better, now. And you will. I see it, so clearly, even now, when your future is under Preminger's shadow." He sighed. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but I promised that I would not lie to you. Your destiny is not over. I don't want you to feel like it is."
Erika's stomach was churning, but she wanted so badly to believe him. She wanted to feel like her anger could do something more than traumatize her husband. She wanted to believe she could be a force for good in the kingdom, even as it resisted her. And whatever she said to the contrary, she wanted to believe that her life hadn't been for nothing, that she could use the experiences she'd had, even though she hated that she'd had them. She wanted to feel like it was all worth it, even if she didn't believe that for a moment. Maybe, just maybe, the Watchmaker was right. The thought was both disgusting and comforting.
Finally, she said, "I want to trust you. I want to believe in you, that you can help us, that you really do have our best interests in mind, even if it seems like almost every action has been against us. I want to know that you're telling the truth. But how can I? It's like... I need you to tell me something that I don't know, so I can be sure of your power, but I also need to know that it's true. That's impossible."
Erika expected Arsenio to blink or sigh or wring his hands and mutter on about rules or destiny or whatever else, but he suddenly looked very alert. She imagined cogs turning in his head as he tried to calculate whether to tell her something, as he had done at several points in his story the day before. She had asked him at one point why he did that, and he had answered that he was trying to visualize different reactions she might have to various wordings or tone, or even whole pieces of the story. He did not want to leave anything out, he assured her, but he also did not want to weigh her down with things she didn't need to know in the immediate future. Erika was still not sure whether this was him trying to weasel out of being disliked, or real concern. Today, at least, he had promised not to lie to her.
But if he could satisfy her paradox, she may well and truly be impressed.
"There is something," Arsenio began, in a very measured tone. He had that strange posture again, that odd combination of tension and ease. She didn't know what to make of it. "Something that you have not yet realized—so you do not know it—but when I tell you, you will know that it is true."
"Oh, really? Do tell." She spread her hands out in front of her, inviting him to continue.
He hesitated for the tiniest fraction, and then said, "You're pregnant."
Erika scoffed. "No, I'm not."
Arsenio said nothing, watching her intently.
"No, I'm not," she said again. She felt cogs turning in her own head, which felt very sluggish and very fast all at once.
"No," she said for a third time, trying to remember dates and count days. "No, because I remember when I came back to Dulcinea—and then in Aurelia, before the wedding—and then..." It had been a very long, very busy two months since then. It was nearing three now, and yet... It had completely slipped her mind that something had not happened, when everything else had been happening so much in the wake of the wedding, her life becoming a flurry of meetings and dress fittings and etiquette lessons. "The wedding was..."
"Ten weeks ago," Arsenio supplied when she trailed off. His face flashed guiltily, and he corrected himself: "Seventy-three days, to be precise."
Her thoughts raced.
"I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I wasn't going to tell you—but then you asked—"
"I did ask," she agreed, still feeling slightly light-headed, and then a nasty thought occurred to her. "Did you do this? Did you make sure this happened, so that you could have something to tell me, just now?"
"If I could control conception, do you think that I would have a daughter?"
"Oh. Right," she said numbly. She couldn't decide how to feel. She wasn't sure she was ready to be a mother—she wished her mother was still alive, to guide her—she was being hunted by Marisol's mother... Out of morbid curiosity, she asked, "Do you think Reina knows?"
"No, she does not," he said firmly. He made that odd calculating face again, and then continued, "I believe that if she did, you would already be dead. If you were thinking that she might spare a pregnant woman... you would be mistaken. She would be quite angry to know that you had yet another thing denied to Marisol."
Erika shuddered, feeling nauseous, and suddenly wondered how many times in the past few weeks she had thought that her upset stomach was due to nerves, rather than pregnancy.
"Maybe this will convince Dominick he's not cursed," she said, trying to see something positive about it. She thought back to her trip with him to Gothel's manor.
"I'm afraid it won't," Arsenio said. "But the curse has already been broken, so he doesn't need to worry about it anymore, regardless."
She stared at him. "That curse was real?"
He blinked. "Yes, it was."
"But... how? Did you do that?"
"No, it was his engagement to Anneliese." Erika still looked confused, so he tried to explain: "The curse was made with some very fanciful language about withering family trees and fruit dying on the vine—that is, people dying young, without children of their own. When the two affected lines were joined again, the curse broke. Sometimes magic can be simple, almost deceptively so—exact words are good in this case."
"They didn't even meet," Erika protested. "In Aurelia, they didn't even meet until after everything had already happened! He met me, not her."
"Yes, but he was engaged to her. As soon as he accepted Queen Genevieve's terms, the curse was broken. He was in a contract with Anneliese, and they were joined together, as far as magic is concerned."
She regarded him skeptically. "And you're sure that it's broken?"
"Quite sure."
She nodded, glad she could at least get her husband to stop worrying about one thing. "Wait, why won't this baby convince Dominick he's not cursed?"
Arsenio looked away, taking the opportunity to stow his dossier in his inner vest pocket.
"Arsenio?"
He looked up, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away again. "You're having a son, not a daughter," he said softly.
A son felt much more real and tangible than a baby, and suddenly she regretted asking him. She was going to be a mother. A mother to a son. She couldn't picture it, not with death looming on the horizon.
"I think that's all." She stood up so fast she knocked the chair over. "Thank you for the information," she said, although she didn't know if she had more questions or fewer, all told. She turned to leave, but stopped. "You won't say anything to Dominick, will you? About our s—the baby?"
"No," he said solemnly.
"I want to be the one to tell him," she said softly, and he nodded. She turned on her heel and left the dungeon, her thoughts racing.
Dominick woke up from his nap alone, and although he had only requested that Erika stay until he fell asleep, he wondered where she had gone. He climbed out of bed and put on his jacket and shoes, not caring that his clothes were rumpled, and then opened the bedchamber door to find Sebastian standing in his usual spot. He grinned at his page, and Sebastian's mouth twitched.
Before he could speak, Sebastian said, "I need to tell you something," and so Dominick instead stepped back, letting Sebastian into the room, before shutting the door again.
"What is it?"
"I was talking with Arsenio," Sebastian began, "and he thinks it is prudent that I go to Aurelia..." He explained that he had volunteered to kill Preminger, and Reina, when the time came; Arsenio's reasoning; that Baldo and Willihard would serve as his replacements, if Dominick approved them.
Dominick nodded at all of this, although he looked worried. "I trust Baldo and Willihard, but..."
"Yes," Sebastian agreed, "but."
"I suppose... I got to go to Aurelia without you, so it's only fair that you get to go without me," he said with false cheer.
"I still don't trust Arsenio," Sebastian said, ignoring the comment. "But I do believe him. I believe this is what's best."
Dominick nodded again, making his way to his small writing desk and pulling out a sheet of paper, a quill, and an inkstand. "What should the letter say?"
Sebastian dictated, and Dominick wrote:
By the order of King Dominick, palace guard Sebastian Palladino is hereby granted a temporary leave of absence, effective immediately and extending indefinitely. In his place, King Dominick requests guardsmen Willihard Hildebrand and Teobaldo Tiedemann be reassigned to his protective detail.
He signed his name with as much kingly flourish as he could muster, and for good measure, applied the royal seal in wax, then folded the letter up and handed it to Sebastian.
"I could go see the Captain, you know," Dominick said disdainfully, putting away his writing instruments. "Then we wouldn't have to fuss with this."
"Arsenio said this would work," Sebastian reminded him. "And the Captain does like his paperwork."
Dominick scoffed, and just then, Erika entered the room, looking distracted.
"Erika!" he said joyfully, and she jumped. "Where did you run off to?"
Sebastian excused himself and slipped out of the room before he heard her reply.
Nominally, Sebastian was Dominick's page, but functionally, he was a member of the castle guard, and in fact Dominick's bodyguard; he only acted as a page because he didn't mind it, and Dominick minded fussing about with a larger staff. And as a member of the guard, he answered to the Captain—after Dominick, of course.
"Captain?" Sebastian knocked lightly on the doorjamb, the letter clutched in his hand.
The Captain of the Guard looked up from his paperwork and waved him in. "What is it, Sebastian?"
"The king has granted me a leave of absence," he said, trying to sound nonchalant as he crossed the threshold. He handed the letter to the Captain. "It's short notice, but the matter is quite urgent."
The Captain examined the letter, taking particular note of the royal seal, then peered up at Sebastian over his spectacles. "Close the door, please, Sebastian."
Sebastian steeled himself as he did so, remaining standing even as the Captain gestured for him to sit.
"Sebastian, what's going on here? Where are you going?"
"It's a private matter," he said.
"Yes, but I'm your brother," Orsino reminded him, removing his spectacles and rubbing his face tiredly. "You can't tell me why you're running off? It's so unlike you. You had a fit when the king went off to Aurelia without you and when he returned you swore you would never leave his side again."
"That was two years ago. People change."
"Yes, people do change, but not you," Orsino said, shaking his head. He sighed, picking up the letter again and skimming it, his brow furrowed in thought. "Now if I guessed the reason, would you tell me?"
Sebastian very nearly laughed at that, but instead only shrugged. How could his brother ever guess what he was off to do?
"Do you have a secret lover? There's a betting pool among the guard about whether you'll ever meet someone."
"Really?" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Have you bet in it?"
"I have," Orsino said good-naturedly. "I'm of the opinion you'll be a bachelor to the end, but that's not as popular a bet as you might think."
Sebastian wasn't sure what to think about that, but he shook his head. "I don't have any lovers, secret or otherwise."
Orsino nodded. "I suppose that also eliminates the possibility of rushing off to attend the birth of your bastard."
"It does."
"That's a shame. Antonio would like a niece or nephew. He's one of the ones who thinks you'll eventually settle down, if you can believe it."
"Is he now?"
Orsino nodded absently, dropping the letter and drumming his fingers on the desktop. "Does the king have another... errand he needs taken care of? His Spanish cousins came here last time, but perhaps this time he'll send you."
Sebastian considered whether this was true, or true enough. He was undertaking an errand, of sorts, on Dominick's behalf, and it was even related to the very incident his brother had mentioned. Of course, Orsino did not know the full breadth of the situation, only that the king's guest had very suddenly worn out her welcome and been removed. Even so, perhaps he had not given him enough credit. Very cautiously, Sebastian nodded once.
"I see." Orsino folded the letter up and laid it aside. "How long will you be away?"
"I'm not sure," Sebastian said honestly. "I hope not long."
Orsino nodded distractedly, already trying to rearrange the guards' schedules in his mind. "I'll inform Baldo and Willihard of their new assignments. They'll be thrilled to be taken off gate duty."
"They will," Sebastian agreed. "But... May I tell them? There are certain things I would like to make very clear."
Orsino squinted at him for a moment, and then shrugged. "One less thing for me to do, I suppose. You're dismissed, Sebastian. Godspeed. Oh, and tell me before you run off, alright? I want to say goodbye to my brother."
"I will," Sebastian promised, and he opened the door, leaving it ajar the way the Captain preferred. He made his way through the guards' quarters, scanning the few heads milling about for a familiar shiny bald one—and there was Baldo, sitting on the edge of his bed, taking off his boots. Willihard was on the bed opposite, already barefoot, laying back with his hands behind his head.
"Baldo, Willihard, may I speak to you a moment?" Sebastian asked, making an effort to sound light, but even so, the gentle buzz of conversation died immediately. The other guards looked at each other apprehensively. Sebastian wasn't their captain, of course, but with his famously dour disposition and his usual refusal to let the king out of his sight, he was highly regarded among them for his dedication.
Willihard hopped out of bed like a man half his age, and Baldo froze, then began trying to shove his foot back into his boot.
"That's not necessary. Come here," he said, beckoning them into the corridor.
Baldo and Willihard looked at each other, then followed him out of the room. As the door swung shut, they heard conversation swell again.
"Have you told anyone about our mysterious visitor?" he asked, very quietly.
"No, sir," they answered immediately.
"Good," he said. "It is to the king's discretion whether he will elaborate on the situation, but you are not to discuss it outside yourselves, do you understand?"
They nodded tensely.
"I have been called away on an urgent matter, and I am leaving this evening. The king has requested that you two take my place in guarding him."
Willihard paled, and Baldo's eyebrows shot up.
"Us, sir?" Baldo said incredulously.
"I recommended you," Sebastian said, which was true enough. "But listen to me very carefully."
Baldo and Willihard seemed to be holding their breath.
"If any harm comes to the king while I am away, I will hold the two of you personally responsible, do you understand me?"
As a rule, he did not care for threats. But in certain cases, they seemed called for. Of course, it would be unfair to expect ordinary men to hold up against a possibly magical assassin, but he wanted them on their toes.
"Yes, sir," Willihard said faintly, and Baldo nodded fervently.
"Good men," he said. And then, because he could not think of another way to end the conversation, he said, "You're dismissed."
He didn't have the authority to dismiss anyone, but they hurried back into the guards' quarters anyway, Baldo limping slightly because he still had one boot on. He shook his head and prayed that Arsenio was right about Preminger.
It was dusk, and Sebastian had packed a few changes of clothes and two days' worth of food into the cheap wagon he had bought in town that afternoon, which now stood in front of the palace with a horse harnessed to it. The palace had no shortage of fine carriages, but Arsenio felt that discretion was important, and the nondescript wagon wouldn't draw any unwanted attention on the road. They had bade their solemn goodbyes to Erika and Dominick, and now all that remained was saying goodbye to Sebastian's brother.
Orsino ambled slowly down the palace steps, wincing slightly with each step though he tried to grit his teeth against the pain; he had an old knee injury that sometimes acted up.
"I told you that you didn't have to see me off," Sebastian called.
"And miss my baby brother running off on his mysterious mission? I think not," Orsino said stubbornly, finally making it down the stairs. "My God, that is an ugly horse. Where did you get it? I think I would have noticed that thing in the stables."
The horse—Arsenio in disguise—stamped his hooves and tossed his mane, snorting in disdain. Sebastian had been unsure of this plan, but Arsenio had insisted that because he did not need to eat, sleep, or rest, they could get to Aurelia in half the time if he pulled the wagon.
"It was a gift," Sebastian said lamely, and the horse snorted again.
"I know you're not supposed to look gift horses in the mouth, but sometimes, I think you ought to be able to." Orsino shook his head, then reached out and pet the horse's face, grinning. "Ah, but he's a good one, isn't he? Look at him. He'll take good care of you, I'm sure."
Sebastian resisted the urge to swat his brother's hand away, trying not to think about the fact that the horse was just a man who was temporarily horse-shaped. "I should be going," he said instead. "It's getting dark."
"Yes, it is," Orsino agreed. He peered into the wagon. "You haven't got a lantern in here."
"I have one," Sebastian lied. Arsenio had said that he did not need one to see in the dark, and Sebastian was not particularly averse to darkness, so he had not protested. "Don't worry about it."
Orsino looked at him strangely, then shrugged. "I suppose you know what you're doing. You always do." He clapped Sebastian on the back. "I know you aren't given to hugging—"
Sebastian threw his arms around his brother, hugging him very tightly; and after just a second to adjust, Orsino hugged him back, bewildered. Sebastian pulled away very quickly, averting his eyes as he climbed into the wagon.
Orsino stared at him, then at the strange, ugly horse, and finally at the sparsely packed wagon. "Would you tell me if you were going off to do something that could get you killed?"
"No," Sebastian said honestly.
Orsino nodded, a lump rising in his throat. "Of course you wouldn't."
Sebastian set his jaw and picked up the reins. "I need to go."
"Be careful, alright? I don't want Antonio growing up without his uncle. Who would teach him to be serious?"
Sebastian's mouth twitched and he flicked the reins; the horse began to trot forward. "Goodbye, Orsino."
"Goodbye, Sebastian," he said sadly, watching his brother disappear into the night.