When he woke in the morning, it was still there. Some invisible mark she had etched on his skin with hardly a brush of her lips. She had said she wished him to remember and there was small chance he would forget. But he might go mad with remembrance. If he had merely been waiting it might have been bearable, but this suffering had no end. They would slog through it until he learned how to put it aside.
He tried, that morning. He tried by avoiding her room and pretending she was little more than another member of his household staff. She took breakfast on her own while Regis and the twins breakfasted in the dining hall. Perhaps that was the more proper way to do it, in any case. Yes, he had a habit of being called away in the midst of a meal, but Reina and Noctis were more than old enough to handle themselves if he did so.
Twelve years old. Nearly teens.
No one came to summon him during breakfast that morning, but when they emerged both Clarus and Weskham were standing outside.
"Resuming your old position so soon, my friend?" Regis asked Weskham.
"Hardly. Avunculus has done a fine job with you. I wouldn't dream of trying to muscle him out."
"I'm sure you'll find somewhere else to stick your nose," Clarus said. "Like into this business with Niflheim."
He glanced pointedly at Reina and Noctis, who stood on either side of Regis. Regis took his meaning.
"I fear I must be off, my dear ones." Regis gave the twins a reluctant smile. "Be good in school, Noctis. Keep Prompto out of trouble. Reina, behave for your tutors. No texting in the middle of lessons anymore."
Noctis folded his arms and made a wordless sound of assent while Reina bobbed her head and murmured a promise to behave. When Regis moved to give Noctis a hug, he dodged nimbly.
"Ah, but of course. Twelve is much too old for hugs." Regis ruffled his hair instead.
"I'm not too old for hugs," Reina said.
"Quite right." Regis hugged her instead.
Goodbyes exchanged, they parted ways, Reina and Noctis to return upstairs and finish readying for their day, Regis to follow Clarus and Weskham to a place more suited for discussion. They settled on his office.
Once the door was shut behind them, Regis sank into an armchair and regarded the one half of his retinue that cared to put any energy into politics.
"Tell me all," he said.
"So far there is little to tell," said Clarus. "Niflheim has merely sent a missive seeking a moment of the king's time. They are to call at a time set as convenient by you. The subject matter was not hinted at. However, I suspect it is safe to assume it is in regard to our arrangement."
"They said nothing more?" Regis leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers on the arm.
"That we will be speaking with the imperial chancellor."
All the more reason to suspect that this call was regarding their arrangement with Tenebrae.
"Very well. Send word that we will receive their call today—Wes, is there time in my schedule?"
"I'm sure I don't know. But I could shake Avunculus down and find out," Weskham said.
Both time and circumstances came back to Regis. Weskham hadn't been his steward in nearly ten years, and as of yet had no grasp on what was occurring in Lucis. How easily Regis had fallen back into their old ways.
"Well, bring him here, at least," Regis said. "And then make some arrangement on how to divide duties, because I would rather know sooner than later. And I would prefer you did not both hover over my shoulder at all times."
Weskham smiled. "It's safe to assume you're not going to send me back to Accordo, then."
A thought that hadn't even crossed his mind. Political ties with Accordo notwithstanding, Weskham was far more useful to Regis when he was on hand. They would still have a direct line to the First Secretary—he would simply be residing in Insomnia rather than Altissia—and Regis could have his steward back. And his friend.
But none of that accounted for what Weskham felt.
"Do you wish to go back to Accordo?" Regis asked.
"While the rest of you are out here battling the gods? Not for the life of me, Sire."
"Then I will not send you back," Regis said.
Clarus elbowed Weskham. "I told you."
And they were all sixteen again, roughhousing in the Citadel halls while shouts and laughter echoed around them.
Weskham was smiling at him. Regis found he was doing the same, though he couldn't recall when it had begun.
"I am glad to have you back, Wes," he said.
"And I'm glad to be back."
Avun was summoned and what followed was something of a scramble. Schedules were rearranged, word was sent to Tenebrae and the imperial chancellor, the council was assembled quietly, and even Ravus was brought forth to bear witness. If nothing else, this was likely a matter that concerned him. But there was some slim chance that they would catch sight of Sylva and Lunafreya. If possible, Regis wished Ravus to be present for that.
And so it was that they all came to be assembled in the conference room off the main floor a few hours later, where both television and camera were set up already. Though a select few members of Regis' council were present, only Regis, Clarus, and Ravus stood within view of the camera. The others lined the walls, out of sight, to bear witness.
The screen flickered on to show the chancellor's smiling face.
"Ah, King Regis. How lovely to see you again. And Prince Ravus, you are looking well. A bit pale, if I might say. I had thought the Lucian sun would do you some good, but alas…" Something mischievous twinkled behind his eyes. Whatever curated information Ravus may have passed him about this storm, the man had drawn deeper conclusions of his own.
"Chancellor Izunia," Regis said levelly. "You honor us with your presence."
The words hurt his teeth to say, but only seemed to make Izunia's smile grow deeper.
"How fares Tenebrae?" Regis asked.
"Wonderfully." Izunia spread his hands wide. "Just splendid. Why, after the chaos of Gralea, this quaint forest village is practically a retreat. Not a peep of conflict."
He made no mention of the Nox Fleurets and they were conspicuously absent on camera. Indeed, he had even chosen a room and frame which were clearly large enough to fit two other people. And yet he stood alone. Very much on purpose.
"And peace, of course, is why I have called you on this fine afternoon," Izunia continued, finally coming to the point of the matter. "Regarding our new friendship. We understand, of course, that Lucis is struggling through some trying times at the moment and this is a poor time for celebration. Yet imagine our surprise when we learned that no one in the kingdom seems aware of Prince Ravus and Princess Reina's betrothal! Why, we should have thought any scrap of good news would have been shared willingly… most especially given that several months have already passed."
And how would he know that no one in the kingdom had heard of their betrothal? Regis preferred not to know the answer, but it was a dangerous question to leave unanswered.
"The betrothal has not been publicly announced," Regis conceded what Izunia already knew. "Princess Reina has only just turned twelve years old, and while that is still quite young for a betrothal by Lucian standards, she is of an age to begin transitioning into adulthood. You have, however, already noted our difficulty. While good news might be welcomed in trying times, news such as this demands a certain amount of pomp and ceremony. A joining of hands in promise, witnessed by the lords will need to take place, and it is an ill omen to perform such a rite beneath this storm."
"Of course," Izunia said, in a painfully reasonable voice. "Traditions must be respected and preserved, and we would never wish to begin such a promising alliance with bad luck. Nevertheless, I must ask, King Regis: if this joining of hands is a necessary ritual, are the prince and princess not betrothed by your laws?"
He had known the answer before they had begun this conversation. That much was clear in the quirk of his lips and the glint in his eyes. He asked leading questions and waited for the chance to spring his trap. And so Regis had stepped into it.
"Publicly, they are not, as you are already aware," Regis said. "More important, however, is the agreement we have made."
"And Lucis, I am certain, would never dare go back on its word," Izunia said. "But, as Niflheim would, I find myself noting that this agreement has only ever been in words. If the betrothal has not been made legal and public, and we have signed no treaty putting it to words, what is to hold us both to the bargain?"
"Are you suggesting you wish to break our agreement?" Regis asked.
"Perish the thought, good king. I am merely noting that there is no security for any of us until something is made concrete. His Imperial Majesty would like to express his wishes that the betrothal be made legal, lest it fall through. Despite the rotten weather, that's not such an imposition, is it?" Izunia smiled. "We're well within our rights."
"Are you indeed? And if I were to refuse?"
"Well, that's within your rights as well. But I hardly need point out that Prince Ravus' family sent him away across the sea to be wed. Think of their disappointment if it was never so. I can't be held responsible for what that sort of news would do to his poor mother and sister."
Beside Regis, Ravus' stiffened. Regis refused to spare him a glance.
"I see. As I have said, chancellor, the ill luck brought about by this weather is unavoidable. They will simply have to wait until it is through," Regis said.
"If it stretches on for much longer, they may not have the chance," said Izunia.
"Then we shall address that concern when we arrive at it. If there is nothing else, we must all be on our way."
Izunia swept off his hat in an over-elaborate bow. "But of course. Don't let me delay you. Until we meet again… King Regis."
The camera feed cut.
"You are either very cruel or very stupid and I refuse to believe the second," Ravus said as soon as he was free to. "You have practically sent my mother and sister to their deaths on a whim. You have agreed to host me here. Is it so impossible to continue with the charade and throw a party? Their lives are in danger. You don't know what that man is capable of. I do."
Clarus stepped forward and in front of Regis. "You will hold your tongue in the presence of the king if you cannot recall how to address him properly. Do not forget that you are a guest and a refugee in these halls."
"Am I? It seems I am more a prisoner and a spy. I would much prefer to be back in Tenebrae with my mother and sister, since it seems I have no hope of protecting them from here."
"Nor have you any hope of protecting them from there," Clarus said.
"Enough." Regis didn't raise his voice, but the brewing unrest died away when he spoke. "Prince Ravus, I appreciate the strain you are under. But do not leap so quickly to conclusions when you do not understand the full situation. There is a great deal we need to discuss. I do not take the safety of your family lightly. But nor do I take that of my kingdom lightly. Every suggestion the chancellor makes is double edged, and we would be fools indeed to leap upon one without inspecting it thoroughly."
"And while you do, my mother and sister suffer! What will it take to make you see that?"
Clarus snarled at him, held in check from biting the boy's head off only by Regis' lack of indication that he should do so.
"I do see that," Regis said. "And I also begin to wonder to what lengths you have gone in your fear for their well-being. How did the imperial chancellor learn that no betrothal had taken place in Lucis? Niflheim may well have other eyes and ears in my kingdom, though I trust those in the Citadel have been flushed out. Yet often the simplest solution is the correct one."
To his credit, Ravus did not flinch at the accusation. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Unlikely, but not worth pressing for the moment.
"We will deliberate," Regis said. "Guest or spy, wherever your allegiances lay, your concerns will be taken into account. But your presence is not necessary for this discussion."
Ravus snarled at him. "If they die, their blood is on your hands. And I will never forgive you for it."
He turned on his heel and stalked from the room. On those dramatic words, the door slammed shut behind him, echoing his sentiment. Perhaps they had seemed dangerous, threatening words to him, but he had never sounded so much like a boy to Regis. It did not make his position less respectable. Indeed, the reminder that he was still young and afraid for his mother and sister was a grounding one. And the suggestion that withholding forgiveness would be enough to sway Regis' decision was a flattering one. Some six months he had been in Lucis. He had become a part of the family in some ways. To know that he felt the same was gratifying, even if it was strained at the moment.
"Clarus."
Clarus straightened and turned.
"Contact Cor. I want his most discreet Crownsguard following Ravus. Every second of every day should be accounted for from this point forward," Regis said. "The rest of you will meet me in the council chamber."
And so deliberation began. The same points were raised as they had been before: a frontal attack on Tenebrae to rescue Sylva and Lunafreya was possible but risky, as sources indicated the imperial forces around Fenestala were far from impenetrable; doing nothing at all was less dangerous but equally risky and no one at the table favored such passive response; and simply complying with Niflheim's wishes seemed both the simplest solution and the one with the least risk involved. Those who opposed the betrothal did so on principle, for few councilors were willing to follow Niflheim's instructions.
Regis sat at the head of the table and absorbed the discussion. His opposition for the betrothal went unspoken; he loathed drawing his children into this mess and—despite Ravus' suggestion that it would be for mere show—once the betrothal was legal and public there would be great difficulties in reversing it if ever Reina wished to. She would be more or less constrained to do as had been decided for her.
"Surely Princess Reina is willing to do her duty to Lucis," Felice said, as if the council had followed Regis' thoughts to their meandering conclusion. "And that she likes Prince Ravus is plain enough. She has shown herself to be a mature young woman; it is not such a stretch to formalize their betrothal."
To have the phrase 'young woman' applied to Reina chafed him. But that was precisely the face she had displayed in front of court and council some few days ago. And she had reached the transitioning phase of her life. There was no going around that.
"She's still a child." Aldebrand waved a dismissive hand. "If she is betrothed a great deal more will be heaped upon her. You're asking us to trust a twelve-year-old with the future of Lucis."
"She seemed hardly a child when she spoke in court."
"Speaking words fed to her by King Regis does not an adult make," Aldebrand said.
"I don't believe His Majesty did feed her those words," Hamon said lightly.
All eyes turned toward him, then toward Regis. Waiting. He had a split second to decide: confirm or deny. To claim he had told her what to say protected her from scrutiny and also made her appear more a child in their eyes. Admitting that he had not would earn her the beginnings of respect in his council, which she may find precious in years to come. It would also display that Reina was more independent from him than anyone thus far believed. On the one hand, they might see him as a lesser father for it. But on the other, an independent child was less pliable and more likely to hold her own against council pressures. All of this passed through his mind in an instant.
There was no right answer. The only choice was to make a decision and stand by it for all he was worth. It was easier to stand by the truth than a lie.
"I did not," Regis said. "Princess Reina formed both idea and words of her own volition."
Of all those assembled, Clarus looked the most shocked. Not at the revelation—he had known the truth as well as Regis had—but that Regis had admitted it.
"See?" Felice broke the silence. "She is quite old enough to handle this situation."
"One occurence is hardly a rule," Aldebrand said. "If we are to base this decision on the disposition of the princess, let us have expert advice. I move to summon the nanny."
Regis' mind refused to process what he had heard.
The councillors exchanged looks and murmurs.
"I second the motion," another said.
"I third."
All around were murmurs of assent and agreement. Not only had Aldebrand, of all people, asked to summon Crea to a council meeting, he had called her an expert. While Regis agreed, having his own sentiments echoed among the council was such a rare occurrence he could hardly believe his own ears.
The second thought that passed through his mind, once the first had settled, was that Crea had never before been placed under such pressure and scrutiny. He prayed she would hold. Because he could not very well refuse to grant their request.
A runner was sent to collect Crea. In the meantime, the discussion persisted in its usual cyclical fashion. Each time they came back to this point: did they compromise their pride or their people? Was Princess Reina ready to have the fate of two kingdoms placed on her shoulders? Neither question had a simple answer.
Twenty minutes passed before a knock rang out through the room. The door cracked open.
"Miss Creare Vinculum, Your Majesty," said Avun.
At Regis' motion, he stepped aside to admit Crea. From beyond the door he could see the flicker of uncertainty on her face. She was dressed well, as she usually did when she expected to be seen about the Citadel. She might have passed for a courtier. But she held her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes flicked over the massive doors and past the faces assembled along the table in a way that betrayed her unfamiliarity with the situation. Her gaze landed on Regis. He gave her a tiny nod—he could spare no more in this situation—and even that felt like an admission of all that existed between them. Of all that had occurred the night before.
Whether she read in his motion all that he intended to convey, she seemed to take strength from it. She lifted her chin and her features turned steely with resolve. She stepped into the council chamber. The doors shut behind her, a sound which echoed in the stone chamber. She flinched but did not turn back.
"Miss Vinculum," Clarus began, "You have been called before this council to serve as an expert on the Princess Reina. Do you feel equal to the task?"
She looked from Clarus to Regis to the other councillors assembled at the table. All eyes were focused on her and, whether she knew it or not, every one of them was aware that she and he had once been involved. Whether any suspected that the feeling lingered, he had no notion. But it felt as if his guilt were written on his face.
She clasped her hands more tightly together until her knuckles turned white. "I can only claim to be an expert on growth and development. Reina I understand as well as any person can understand another. But I'm sure you can appreciate that it will never be one hundred percent."
To Regis' surprise, her voice held surprisingly true. In spite of the nervousness in her body language, she spoke well before the council. All along the table there were nods and murmurs of approval for her disclaimer. Clarus continued.
"The question of whether or not to push forward with the betrothal between Prince Ravus and Princess Reina has arisen. We seek your advice on the matter."
It occurred to Regis, in the puzzled silence that followed, that they had never admitted to the council that the idea to fake a betrothal had been Crea's, let alone that she knew about the situation at all. Clarus' brief explanation must have seemed insufficient to them.
"Why?" She asked. "I thought it was decided not to go through with it."
"Circumstances have changed," Clarus said. "Would you say that Princess Reina would be capable of handling a betrothal to Prince Ravus."
Crea made a face: her mouth twisted up to one side and her nose scrunched as if she regarded a particularly distasteful plate of food. She unclasped her hands and crossed her arms over her chest.
"That's a loaded question, Master Clarus, and I'm not willing to answer it until I know your intent." And as quickly as that, with the well-being of a child under her care at stake, the nervousness dissolved and the nanny returned. Regis had to fight to keep his features neutral.
"The precise circumstances are a matter of national secrecy," Clarus said.
Her eyes flicked toward Regis. He could all but hear the thoughts she didn't voice: had they been discussing this alone, she never would have accepted such an evasive response from him. He debated whether to make some sign to her. Under the right circumstances, she was fully capable of tearing Clarus a new breathing hole. Doubtless he would have looked shocked to see the coeurl that lurked beneath Crea's innocuous exterior. Regis was forced to steeple his hands in front of his face to hide the smile.
"Then I can't help you," Crea said.
A murmur ran down the table. He should have intervened, but a perverse part of him was enjoying watching her. Let the council now say that he had fallen in love with a servant. And let all of them understand how wrong that assessment was.
Aldebrand cleared his throat and leaned forward. "Miss Vinculum, you are refusing to cooperate with the crown. The penalties for such are severe. Are you prepared to face them?"
"I am not refusing to cooperate with the crown. I am refusing to give advice on a situation I don't understand. Surely you realized the consequences that could have, Master Aldebrand."
"Enough," Regis said. If he allowed it to go on any further, he would not be able to suppress his own amusement. "The situation, in short, is this. Niflheim has somehow acquired inside knowledge that no betrothal has taken place. They have issued a threat: If we do not make the engagement of Reina and Ravus legal and public, harm will befall his family."
His councillors stared at him. Regis pointedly ignored them, keeping his level gaze on Crea. How dare he explain matters of importance to a mere nanny? He would have done the same regardless of whether or not they had summoned her. Though the alternative included a hot cup of tea and rather more pleasant company.
She uncrossed her arms. He could see questions work through her mind in the way she narrowed her eyes, not staring at him so much as past his shoulder, and chewed her bottom lip.
"As you know, I am reluctant to make a choice that will cause lasting harm to either of my children," Regis said. Or even temporary discomfort.
It took some few moments before Crea spoke. When she did, the council—and indeed, the fate of all Lucis—hung silently on her words.
"The fact is that Reina would be delighted if you told her she was marrying Ravus. She would also be delighted to have an excuse to get a new dress. But you're thinking of long-term issues. I can't tell you if she will grow up to love him—no one can do that—but they would have a relationship built on friendship and mutual respect, which I'm sure is more than some people can say. She gives every indication of growing into a young woman who values her duty to Lucis and her family, so I suspect you have little to worry about in that respect. As for whether or not she can handle the knowledge that her betrothal was built as a bargaining chip, I think the twins understand a great deal more about the kingdom than we give them credit for. She understands exchange and sacrifice and public appearance. And she doesn't like to see people get hurt. I think she would do it not just willingly, but happily."
And that was that. If not an answer to their deliberation, at least the cleanest answer to all their questions any could hope for.
Even if it was an answer that stacked up against Regis' own desires.