A/N: Thank you to everyone reading!

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Thank you so much! And do enjoy the story!


Chapter 3

~ The Book of Cards ~


Previously...

Someone else called out to Ashe now. A low voice, a gruff one. Parvati snapped back into the real world. She felt the hair on her arms rise up. She was coming to realize…that she was about to meet with someone else who would need no introduction. His name had been on her cards before.

She turned to face him.

Gaspard, Lonato.


"Ashe." Lord Lonato did not wait for Ashe to finish turning before he sent a backhand across the boy's face.

Manuela and Parvati cried out.

He said to the boy, "What did I tell you?"

Ashe had his two hands stacked one over the other on his left cheek. His swimming eyes did not stray from Lonato's.

"I said, what did I tell you?"

"You said don't talk to them."

"And what did you do?"

Manuela stepped forward. "Excuse me. I happen to be a Professor at the Officer's Academy. He is going to be a student, isn't he? Then I would imagine he should be talking to professors."

Lord Lonato turned to her. "A professor? I apologize. It is regrettable that you had to see that."

Manuela falters. "I don't understand."

Parvati did, however. And it finally struck Manuela what Lonato had meant when the man's eyes strayed to Parvati next.

Don't talk to them hadn't meant her and Manuela. Don't talk to them meant don't talk to her — to Parvati. To the woman of Duscur.

"He didn't start the conversation," said Parvati, deadpan. "We started it."

"Do not defend him, little lady," said Lonato gently, "for I fear you will be the one who gets the boy killed."

Parvati's jaw dropped. "Wh - What?" That made no sense. Her? Parvati? Getting his child killed? What the hell did he think she would be doing?

The soothing voice of the Archbishop interrupted her thoughts. "Lord Lonato." The Archbishop had come to stand beside Parvati. On her other side was a red-haired knight who stood mum.

Parvati and Manuela bowed. In the distance, the voice of the choir swooned and lulled. Lonato's eyes lingered on the knight beside her before resting on the Archbishop. "Archbishop," he said.

"You had arrived," she said, "and yet you did not grant me the comforts of your company?"

Lonato regarded her, seemingly calculating what to say as his hand reached behind him and pulled Ashe closer.

It was a motion the Archbishop did not miss. "Lord Lonato…your apprehension stings." She looked at Ashe and said, "He will not be waylaid. I will care for and guide him personally. You have nothing to fear, milord."

Lonato said, "I have everything to fear." He looked at Parvati, as did Ashe. "This woman, what is she doing here?"

Rhea looked at her. "She is a Professor at the Academy. Parvati, greet him."

Parvati felt like she was a child, being told by a mother to say hi. But because she wanted to do things the easy way so she could get away as swiftly as possible, she obediently bowed her head.

Lonato looked back at the Archbishop. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Lord Lonato?"

Lonato said, "I lost one son because for his Duscuri consort. Now you deem this one okay?"

Parvati blinked. Christophe had been in love with someone from Duscur?

Lady Rhea said, "The Church is very purposeful in the people we choose to employ, Lonato."

A vein throbbed in Lonato's temple. "You are, as ever, the image of grace, Archbishop," he said, "and an astonishing calm. Is this what you looked like, the night you ordered for Christophe's execution?"

The voice of the choir came to a sudden stop. Manuela gasped. Parvati felt like she had been punched in the chest. All of her breath was thrown out of her.

Archbishop Rhea gave him a dark look. "Your son was executed for the crimes that he committed, not for whom he associated with."

Oh great. At least the Archbishop's not racist, right? thought Parvati. Her mind was reeling. The Archbishop had ordered the execution of Christophe? She knew the Church had executed him, but it never occurred to her — that she had met the person who had given that command, and that in fact, Parvati was standing right next to her. She was close enough for the Archbishop's cape to be touching her left arm right now. Parvati's skin erupted in goosebumps.

"For what it is worth," said Rhea, "allow me express my condolences. I would have had it any other way."

"Then why couldn't you think of one?" Lonato said through a thick voice and gritted teeth. His eyes sparkled through a film of water. Behind him, two rivers ran silently down Ashe's face.

"Because he did not give one to me," said Lady Rhea. With this, she bowed and said, "Gilbert, let us go." She led the knight away with her.

Parvati didn't know why she kept standing there, like her legs were carved out from the floor. Lord Lonato set his jaw and looked back at her. He said, "I am sorry to have to ask you this. But you've already taken my firstborn son. Don't take this one."

Parvati scoffed. She looked at Ashe, who matched her glance before walking away, led away by Lonato by the shoulder.

Manuela looked at her. "What was that?" she said.

Parvati shook her head. "That's not going to be the last time."

"I don't envy you," said Manuela. "I'd heard of how the people of Duscur are treated by the Fearghusi, but…I had no idea… I thought originally what he meant by them was proletarians."

Parvati chuckled bitterly. "Oh. Yes. That." She became lost in thought. I came here to teach math, but… She recalled what Randolph had said on the night before: a school full of royals. He was right. Out of twenty-four honors students, eighteen were nobility. And counting Ashe, eight of the students were from Faerghus.

She did not want to meet the other parents from Faerghus.

Or the students.

Manuela kept looking at her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I have no other choice than to be."

Manuela frowned. "That's not true. You shouldn't have to stand for such abuse." She surveyed the people swirling around them, saying, "But I understand… That was a little bit what the opera was like. For as long as you're the diva, you are a goddess. You are a star. But when you stop… We are only valuable as accessories to the nobles. When you are not an accessory, they remind you…" She frowned. "Though I can't help it. The gall of that woman, expressing condolences…"

Parvati checked if Rhea was around, then nodded. "I have a bad feeling," she heard herself saying. The same words as Randolph.

"I do too," Manuela nodded. She took Parvati by the hand and started leading her away. "How about let's not talk to anymore students?"


Bad memories. She was being pulled into bad memories. She told herself she wouldn't let this happen.

Parvati fingered the spines of the books she had shelved in her office, each of them ending with a white lotus symbol under her parents' names. She had a full collection of everything they had published, on that ancient civilization, the old linguistics, on the archaeological structures and social hierarchies of people that no longer existed.

It made her sick. Her parents had spent their whole lives aggrandizing paraphernalia from the past? Of people who were dead now? Did they have any idea, that their own people would be next? Is this what they should have been doing, what she should be doing now — trying to keep Duscur from becoming something she could fit on two shelves?

She bit into the side of her hand to block the sound of weeping. Did her parents spend all their lives memorializing someone else when they should have been memorializing themselves?

Her door was closed and her window was open, so Parvati listened to the sounds outside. There was a baker hollering her wares nearby, a singing, jingling advert as the wheels of a cart squeaked past. It wasn't so cold that the dogs weren't barking. A little girl was screaming, "Give it back! Give it back! This isn't fair!"

Don't do it, a voice said inside her head. Parvati, don't do it.

But her hands went to work anyway. They slid down the shelves, the many spines and found the book, the one with the lotus symbol pushed in. She pulled it out — Agarthan Linguistics — and smelled the pages. Still had her mother's scent, for Parvati had spilled her perfume all over these pages. She had managed to free the first couple of pages…but a block of the middle pages had stuck together. This book was unreadable. Parvati opened to that middle block.

Cut into stack of those middle pages was a rectangular shaft, and snuck into there, was a deck of note cards, Adrestian standard.

This was the culmination of her Tragedy of Duscur investigation. All of those cards, her notes, were here — everything that she could travel with. She hadn't dared to leave it at Enbarr Imperial, in that unoccupied apartment. Who knew when a burglar would come in.

Though, now she was feeling foolish — no thief would think to steal, of all things, books!

Parvati looked up at the open windows. She closed them. She checked the lock on her door. From the office next to her came the muffled sound of Manuela singing. It had been two hours since she'd met the Gaspards, and it was now a comfort to hear the sounds of Manuela in her office: the scrape of a chair, the grate of a table, anything. And every now and then, there was the sound of Alois. It didn't matter where he was. If he was in the building, they could all hear him laughing.

Parvati took a deep breath, and turned the book over, dumping the cards out onto her hands. They were all written in Randolph's block text, beautiful block text she could not hope to emulate. They were all out of order — Dominic, Duscur, Glenn — she looked at the door again, flipping through her cards — Fhirdiad, Galatea, KleimanCoroner, Gaspard — here! Two cards of Gaspard.

Don't take this one, Lonato's voice whispered in her ear.

She had been happy on that day, the day she found out about the execution of Christophe…because she was able to add Date of Execution to this card. This was her writing. Everything else was in Randolph's neat block, and here was Parvati's, half of it cursive, half italics, a scrawl. It was a surprise to add those words. She just plain hadn't imagined…that there would be anybody…not of Duscur…

But now she remembered, a twinge. When she'd heard of Christophe… She flipped through the cards again. Of all the names within the cards she had… Christophe did not make sense. Nor did Gaspard. The Gaspard territory did not partake in the pogroms, despite being closer than Charon and Fraldarius.

She took out a pen from the desk. Was in love with a Duscuri woman, she added. That's why they executed him. Did that make sense? She examined the card. All she got from that conversation was a measly few lines. Lonato Gaspard was biased, and neither of them stated what exactly had been the crimes that Christophe had committed. Parvati cursed. Lady Rhea had said exactly that: "executed for the crimes he had committed" — how much more vague could one get than that?

There was a knock on her door. She dropped the card. When she picked up the card, she dropped her pen instead. She said, "Coming!"

Parvati collected the cards and rearranged them into the slot she had made, closed her mother's book, and slid it back onto her desk, unable to stop thinking about Lonato. Already, he had lost one child. How was he sending another child to the Officer's Academy? When Lady Rhea was the one responsible for the death of his first one? What was he doing?

There was another knock on her door. "Coming!" she called again. She opened up her door.

Randolph.


"Are you sure she's going to remember you?"

Laslow had asked this a half an hour ago. Like Ladislava, her twin had the same harvest-gold hair and rose-mahogany eyes as his twin sister. Unlike Ladislava, Laslow worked under Randolph instead of over him, because he he often drank himself under the table and only made it to meetings when they were over. Laslow did not want to proceed further on the military ladder and he'd said as much: "All of the benefits, none of the responsibility."

He was handing Randolph the completed checklist of artifacts that had been transferred into the Church's care when he had asked Randolph the question. Randolph asked Laslow what he meant by what he said.

"I mean she's surrounded by the best of the best," Laslow said. "What were you telling me? Catherine Thunderbrand. Distant Archer. Divine Songstress. Father of Crestology. The Archbishop. And soon…the future Duke, the future Emperor, the future Prince."

It was a half minute exchange, but it stayed with Randolph for the next half hour.

Which was why, when Randolph saw Parvati's eyeliner smudged across her cheek, he asked, "What's wrong?" And when she insisted, "Nothing," he thought, She is hiding something.

That…hasn't happened in a while, he thought as he followed her into her office.

Then he thought, No, this always happens. When do I ever know what is happening with her? Her letters hardly say anything.

Don't be stupid, said his voice of reason, trying to abate the lick of anger flickering like new flame.

But Parvati saw his dark look. She paused re-inserting the book she in her hands into the bookshelf when she said, "What's the matter?"

He said, "Nothing."

The two of them stared at each other.

"They're ready to go," Randolph said.

"I — what?"

"The soldiers. The transfer is done. The soldiers are ready to go."

Now he had her attention. She blinked. "I thought you said after dinner."

"The Monastery was very professional. They were swift and completed early."

Parvati set the book down at the edge of the table and made her way to him. "Right now? You're going right now?" She looked from his shoulder to his hands to his ribs, to all the bruises she had kissed just yesterday. She said, "But why? Why do you have to go? Why do you have to go now? Why do you have to go early?" She searched for something upon his face. "Tell the others to go. You'll catch up."

Then maybe you should tell me what's wrong, thought Randolph, latching onto the anger and holding on.

But then she put a hand on his face, and her voice broke as she said, "Sta-ay…"

Randolph could feel his heart melt. He filled with relief. He let himself sink into her kiss and let her pull him into her embrace. They were light kisses, but long ones, and her hands were just finding his when they heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

Parvati pulled away. Randolph was not ready to let go, but he relented begrudgingly when he saw it was Catherine and someone else.

The Knight of Seiros was standing at the doorway, one of her hands clapped over the eyes of some kid who was struggling. "Catherine! Let go!"

"Next time you want to do this, maybe start with locking the door," Catherine said with a grin. "You were giving Cyril a show! You didn't even charge him for it."

The kid finally pulled the knight's hand off of his face and glared at the Adrestians. "No, don't do that," he said, pointing a broomstick in their direction. "I don't want to even imagine what I'd have to clean in this office if you were to lock it. Get a room!"

Catherine burst into laughter. Randolph turned bright red. This kid had moxie. He shouldn't even know about such things!

Parvati started blathering. "We should go now. Can we go now, Randolph? We should go."


"It's open," said Parvati, analyzing the finishing touches of a brand new face of makeup in the bathroom mirror.

Randolph strode in, fully dressed. "Who is this lady, all made up?" He leaned in against her ear. "Got someone to impress?"

"You need to go," she reminded him, pushing his face away with her hand. He was still smelling like the sweat she helped him work up…something she was sure he would hear about from Laslow and Bacardi.

Randolph chuckled. "All right, all right, I'm going. But first…" He followed her to the living room and put a hand on her wrist when she picked up her cloak. "You have to tell me what was wrong."

Parvati paused. "That's a long story, Randolph."

"Then I better find out before I go."

"Your soldiers are waiting."

"They do not wait for me. I ordered them to depart already."

Parvati bit her lip.

"Don't bite your lip like that, Parvati…or I'll have take you back into the bedroom."

Parvati rolled her eyes. He was insatiable. She said, "Sit down, Randolph." She started telling him what happened as she made chai in the kitchen. She watched the milk simmer with crushed cinnamon and cardamom.

"The Lord of Gaspard said what?" said Randolph.

She said, "How could it be, that they are talking about me…but I had no voice?"

Randolph sat quietly.

"It is not that I couldn't think of what to say," said Parvati. "I had so much I wanted to say… But it wouldn't matter. It was already apparent. Nothing I could say would change his mind."

"Better that you didn't say anything," said Randolph. Parvati looked at him. He said, "I told you to be careful. You can't say everything you think here. It's not safe."

He accepted the chai and stopped to breathe in its scent before he started drinking. Parvati smiled. She had made it the way he liked it.

He saw her smiling and said, "What?"

"What am I going to do without you, Randolph?"

He smiled. Then he returned to that distant look. "What's more, the future Duke of the Alliance, the Princess of the Empire, and the Heir to the Holy Kingdom… All will be here." He looked at her. "How are you going to handle it?"

"Handle what?"

"The Prince of Faerghus."

Parvati was intimidated. The Randolph she was speaking with now was the Commander of the Fifth Division. Parvati thought for a moment. The Prince of Faerghus. Blood of Blaiddyd. It was this name, that — Blaiddyd — name the Knights of Faerghus were said to be screaming as they butchered — and slaughtered —

Parvati shook herself out of these thoughts. Randolph wasn't asking about her; he was asking about the Prince. The Prince thinks my people killed his parents, thought Parvati. She thought of Lady Rhea today and said to Randolph, "The Church will keep me safe."

She didn't believe it for an instant.

Neither did Randolph. "It sounds like Ashe was a gentle being. Obedient. I can't imagine that of the Prince, do you?"

Parvati shook her head.

"Stay away from him then."

Parvati looked at Randolph.

"Be careful with your students, and be wary of the Prince."

Parvati nodded.

"It doesn't matter what you have to do." Randolph slid the cup of chai aside to take a hold of her hand. "And if anything happens…" He squeezed Parvati's hand.

She squeezed his hand back and said, "I know."


"It won't take me long to reach the others," said Randolph. "I'll take the express way."

"Express way?" asked Parvati. She had followed a Randolph and his refreshed horse from the stables to the entrance of the Monastery, where the stairs led either down to the marketplace or up into the Entrance Hall. One of the two guards glanced their way, yawning.

"There's a side road, for single riders like messengers," said Randolph, pointing the way. "They can't be slowed down coming up the mountain on switchbacks, if the Monastery needs to be notified of something urgent." Randolph looked down at her. "You aren't even listening, are you?"

Parvati flushed. She said, "You will look so good on a black horse in that red armor!"

"I'd say that's a fair assessment!" the guard who had been yawning chimed in.

Parvati and Randolph looked at the guard, and then glanced at each other.

"Thank you," Randolph said.

"Wait, one more thing," said Parvati. "What were you upset about?"

Horns sounded two notes in the distance. The voice of the marketplace shifted below. The market was stirring. Vendors were putting their wares away. Shoppers were hurrying their final purchase. Tables were being moved. Tents were being taken down.

The place was emptying. They were making space.

Randolph frowned. He mounted his black mare to see what was coming up the mountain. His eyes widened. The gatekeeper who had just talked with Randolph and Parvati stepped into the Monastery and called up the stairwell.

"That's Blaiddyd! The House of Blaiddyd! Behold the Prince of Faerghus!"

Parvati's heart jumped into her throat. She looked at Randolph.

He said, "You need to go. Now!"

"Randolph…" She took one backwards step.

Four floors above where they were standing, the bells of Garreg Mach exploded.

Randolph shouted to her, "You have to go!"

The bells of Garreg Mach were ringing, and they would not stop until the Prince arrived at Garreg Mach's doorstep — right where Parvati was standing. She could see the banners on the pikes now, cresting into view over the walls of the marketplace.

"Just go, Parvati," Randolph said again. He guided his mare close to her, leaned over the side and took Parvati's face into his hands. He pulled her into his hungry kiss. He was breathing hard when they parted.

Randolph backpedaled on his horse as he said, "The Goddess knows I love you. Now go!"

That woke her up. Finally. The Faerghus banners were approached the main entrance, ducking out of sight as the long poles passed through the gates and under shorter doorways.

Parvati backed away into the Monastery. When she turned around, she found both sides of the Entrance Hall lined with the Knights of Seiros and the staff of the Monastery. They had all come to stand here and welcome the Prince. For her to run down the Entrance Hall now would mean running past everyone. She looked around. She was in the stairwell, before the Entrance Hall — the ones that led up to the bells.

She went up. Her boots clacked up four flights, every toll of the bells getting louder and louder with every step. She burst out onto the overlooking balcony. That's right — she had been here just this morning. With Manuela. "The best view from the Monastery!" That was what she had said.

And now Parvati could see him — Randolph — the unmistakable red on the black mare. He was raced down the expressway at a gallop, speeding to catch the rest of his command. When he left her sight around a hairpin corner, Parvati did not expect the way her heart fell. She took a deep breath and backed up slightly. Heartache had made her bold enough to lean over the edge. Now, standing are her full height, she looked down into the marketplace, at the retinue of Faerghus.

Eight dozen soldiers had already marched in through the outer gates. The bells were stopping now, so the horns of Faerghus seized what was left of the air. The Blue Lion on each banner swayed hungrily over their heads, and over the tops of the tents of the blacksmiths and armorers. And there, in the center of the whole retinue, looking up at the Monastery — no, looking up at her — was the Royal Prince of Faerghus.


A/N: Enter the Prince of Faerghus! There is art that goes with this chapter, for the ending moment. Check out this story on AO3 to see it!

Thank you always to Moyou / budgie_qm for her beautiful art!

Thank you also to Kiri, Moyou, MashPotato2424, and my Boo for beta reading this work!

Thanks for reading. ;)