TW: Incest, Death, Drug Use, Implied Prostitution
Even as a forty-two-year-old woman, my only coping strategy for sudden life changes was avoidance. The best way to wrap my brain around whatever the hell Galbatorix and I had become was to not think about it at all. I managed to avoid him completely for nine days (no easy feat, thank you very much). Of course, Torix was absolutely nothing if not entitled.
Eventually, he would find an in.
I examined my cuticles diligently. Dry skin, left pinky cracked and bleeding where I'd worried at it. I could heal it with a spell, but it seemed prudent to leave it be. It was a tangible reminder to ground me. If a minuscule wound accomplished that task, it was well worth the irritation.
If only I could be so easily distracted from that burning gaze.
"You've been missed," he said in the most casual tone. Torix stood closer to me now than he had been since… well, since. I'd hoped he would show sense enough to leave me be. Evidently, I'd overestimated him. We stewed in stiff silence. I couldn't look up, couldn't meet his eyes. He sighed. "Lilleth, you can't run from this. There's nothing to run from."
Finally, I flicked an icy stare up at him. He hadn't changed much, but there was a tightness like pain around his eyes. He had barely slept, which could equally make him more dangerous and more vulnerable. I channeled all my shame and discomfort into a whiplike reprimand, "Nothing? Are you mad?"
"Yes." One word, calm tone, no hesitation. "As it happens, I have been so for quite some time. But this is as close to clarity as I have ever been." He took three relaxed steps. Each one seemed to slow time further, the tick of a giant metronome. I stiffened until I felt like a little doll; incapable of movement unless somebody pulled my strings. How familiar. He leaned in until I couldn't resist looking at him, one hand braced on the arm of my chair. "I can't stand the thought of my princess despising me," He lowered his voice, a tender concern creeping over the calm as he struck upon the truth of my silence, "So, tell me: what ails you?"
I gulped. "You… we… I can't…" the words froze in my throat.
"'Can't' may not be the best choice of word," he said with forced cheer. "We can do absolutely anything we desire. Who could deny us?"
"Katana," I managed to whisper. I blinked hard, but not hard enough to halt the tears. "She's furious."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "I see. I knew that she'd drawn away from Shruikan, but I didn't realize it went as deep as all that." He dropped to one knee in front of my seat, taking my hand in his. "Did she explain why?"
"She hates you," I sniffed, "And now… I think she hates me because I…"
"Because you don't hate me?" The corner of his mouth twitched.
"And who says I don't?" I kicked his leg without force. "You're a fiend."
"Untrue and unfair," He said playfully, pressing a kiss to my hand. "Besides, Katana will never hate you, no matter her disposition toward me. She's still hurting from her news—"
I yanked my hand back so quickly that I almost slapped him. "You knew?"
He tilted his head. "Of course. I'm the one that instructed Kialandi to—"
"And you didn't think to tell me?" All of that pain was smoldering into rage. It was comforting; familiar. It was so much easier to be angry with him.
"On my honor, I thought you already knew." He held his hands up helplessly. "I didn't think it was the sort of thing she would keep from her own rider."
It was like I'd been punched in the chest. All the building rage evaporated into… nothingness. "Nor did I."
He slowly reclaimed my hand, stroking my fingers soothingly. He also rose up, until I could rest my head on his shoulder. "Lilly," the more casual name felt alien coming from him. But then… we were certainly more familiar now than we'd ever been. "Give her some space and some time."
I flicked a sharp look at him. "As you gave me?"
He smiled.
I kicked him again. "I mean it. We can't ever…. Not again."
"I told you how I feel about the word 'can't'. It is my nature to pursue the forbidden, the dangerous, and the insurmountable. You, my dear, are all three." He pulled back from me until we parted, but I could still feel the heat of his body. "If you want me to go, you need only say the words." He trailed the phantom touch lower, tracing the contours of my bodice with a completely brazen stare. He even paused, turning a belligerent smirk up at me. "I'm waiting."
I tried to push him away, but suddenly he was like coiled steel. "You already know that I can't."
He smiled, cat-like and content, as he pulled me from my perch and into his lap. "Then give in; let me love you as you deserve to be loved." He flicked my hair aside and kissed my neck, not waiting for permission. "The world is made of only us, little shadow. Nothing else will ever matter as we do."
My brain and body were operating on completely different levels. My thoughts floated in hazy uncertainty even as I found myself breathless from the whirlwind of sensations. Hungry kisses burned my skin as he lowered me to the floor, skirts shifted up and away, he reached down to adjust his own clothing… And then clarity gripped me like a bolt from on high. My hand darted down and grasped his wrist hard enough that it would have bruised a lesser man. He halted, stunned. "Wait! I— … I have a condition."
He swallowed hard, clearly at the very edge of his [Let's face it; extremely limited] self-control. "You have but to ask."
I raised myself up on an elbow, staring him down. "If I am yours, then you are mine. I will suffer no others, Galbatorix. Not the castle concubines, not the streetwalkers, not even Morzan himself. If this," I gestured down at our scandalous position, "is all you want from me, then you shall not have it. If you want all of me, then the price is all of you."
He stared at me in quiet wonder. My chest tightened brutally; he was a scoundrel through and through, there was no way in any hell he would consent to monogamy! But I held my ground; either he would pass this test or he wouldn't. Dark eyes shuttered behind even darker lashes as he sank into his thoughts. I closed my eyes too, afraid of refusal and consent in equal measure. We hung from that impossible cliff for one heartbeat, two, then a third, then several more. But, on the third, he did the impossible. His lips brushed mine as he whispered, "Yes, my queen."
For everything despicable about the man, he certainly had a flair for "romantic whimsy." Though he could never officially acknowledge me as such, there isn't a soul in Uru'baen who didn't know about my change in station; I was, in all ways, the acting queen. I had the authority to make my own moves at court, with my eager little band of spies to assist. Not even the forsworn could impede me, though some certainly tried. One of the most dangerous plots of this era actually centered around two of them in particular.
But it began as just an innocuous letter in a sea of other papers.
I ran a sweat-slicked palm over my forehead. The blistering heat permeated everything. The palace, normally cooled by its sheer scale and recessed position, was more like a massive brick oven. Every single window and door that could be opened had been in some vain attempt to coax a breeze through the room. We'd even given up on our hand fans; too exhausted to a man to even look at the things. In a vain attempt to ward off the discomfort, I'd thrown on a gauzy white tunic and thin brown leggings. But nothing helped! My poor, addled brain turned the lists of figures spread in front of me to gibberish. I rubbed my eyes and groaned.
"Not helpful," a clipped voice warbled through my sludgy thoughts. I scrubbed my hands lower to glare at its source. Galbatorix sat with me at the table that he usually used for private meals, the very picture of scholarly focus. He leaned over his own list, frowning and scratching tallies onto a bit of paper. A loose-fitting ivory shirt broke his usual pattern of attire— even he was not immune to the heat. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, as much to keep cool as to keep the garment free of ink spots.
I gritted my teeth. "You want help, get a secretary. You want me, that comes with a complaint department." I flipped another page of meaningless hieroglyphs. "You'd think more sun would be good for plants."
"To a degree. But couple this excessive heat and a total lack of rain… let us just say that our farmers are nervous, from Gil'ead to Aroughs."
"How's the emergency food stores?"
"What we have is full, but the actual infrastructure is dismal." He scratched out two whole lines of notes, dots of ink splashing up the page where the quill nib bent too far. "And besides, we could have all the food in the world, but it won't be much use unless it can be distributed."
"Soldiers seem to be the cleanest solution," I yawned.
He hummed noncommittally. "There is another matter that requires attention if you tire of this work." He scanned a tidy pyramid of letters, fishing out one with a black seal stamped with a mermaid. "Lady Devina of Kuasta has come into some trouble. Apparently, three of her most trusted captains all dropped dead within a week."
"Does she have any leads?" I took the folded square and scanned it mechanically. "All of them died of seemingly natural causes?"
"Their bodies simply gave out. And these were healthy men, barely into their fourth decade. It isn't unheard of, but it is unusual."
"And for it to happen thrice in rapid succession and close proximity," I finished. "Curious indeed. I'd like to get the lay of the land myself."
His pen halted. "One week, and not a moment more. Leave as soon as you can." I dropped my page of notes with unshielded relief. Before I could turn to go, he took my hand firmly. "Stay safe."
I grinned, leaned down, and kissed his fingers. "I will, so long as you do."
Katana needed absolutely no convincing. She'd spread her wings before I'd even tightened my leg straps! Poor thing was desperate to get some space from… well, from everything. She and I were still on less-than-happy terms, but at least she was willing to speak to me at all. In particular, she was eager to see Kuasta (not to mention spend most of my investigation lazing about in the sea and feasting on fish).
I'm quite sure Galbatorix had no idea how close to home this matter would really cut. If he had, he never would have sent me.
Kuasta was certainly… something else. From the air it almost looked normal; good strong walls encasing rows of homes, a central castle, and one whole line of the city open to the sea. But as we descended, new details clarified. While the roofs were largely done in either dark clay tiles or pitched wood, the buildings themselves were a shocking variety of colors. We were moving too quickly to make out specifics, but many were decorated further with colorful murals, intricate stonework, banners, and streamers. While vendors and shops lined many streets, much of the commerce seemed to be centered near the docks; stalls with bright patterned cloth canopies occupies by dozens, hundreds of people all jostling together.
I loved it all! Katana! Isn't it beautiful? I prodded past her brooding thoughts.
It is, she admitted grudgingly. I wonder if they're preparing for a festival?
It can't be the solstice; we're already two weeks past. Do you think any other ports are like this?
I don't think anywhere else is quite like this. She turned one more lazy circle over the city before descending toward the castle's inner courtyard. One advantage of being a rider was one never needed to announce their arrival, nor stand waiting for entry. No one in Alagaesia would dare refuse any of our little family, and me in particular.
I wiped a line of sweat off on a spare towel; even in the thinnest breeches and tunic I could find, I still felt like I would melt dead away. I already miss flying; between the altitude and speed you fly, it's always freezing up there.
Which is why I'll be heading back on the wing as soon as you're inside. I need to eat and then I'll find a shady place to nap. Katana flicked her tongue. Visions of fat fish caught unawares as she dove among the waves made me snort. She snapped that area of her mind off from me. I can handle my own hunting, thank you very little. And I wish you luck with yours.
If it even is hunting. One of the guards, a stocky gent in the standard imperial soldier uniform, approached us at a light jog. I slid down Katana's side and to the ground, landing in a crouch to absorb the shock. The guard dropped to one knee as soon as my feet touched the ground. Dear gods, not all this.
Have fun, Katana teased, launching back into the sky.
I watched her rise, tender joy curling in my chest like a kitten. She really was stunning, all midnight grace and majestic might. To the rest of the world, she was a lesser god! No one knows the powerful insecurity that lingers beneath that strong facade, I thought privately.
A sheepish voice below me brought me out of my musings. "Welcome to Kuasta, Your Highness." The guard stayed on his knees, head bent nearly to the ground.
Such antics weren't new, but the heat sapped my tolerance for them. I also knew that the best way to put the poor man at ease was to get far away from him as quickly as possible. "Where can I find your mistress? She should be expecting me."
"In the library, Princess. We can escort you—"
"Directions will suffice," I said. "On your feet, if your would. I'm not in the habit of conversing with the grass." He obeyed so efficiently that I was tempted to shake his hand.
To my surprise, the library was not actually attached to the palace itself, but a separate building directly mirroring a central garden. The main exit faced the public street, the back faced the palace. It must have once been the gatehouse for the stronghold, though it had since been built out considerably in every direction. The color of stone and patterns of wear showed were different from one section of wall to the next. The oldest sections were only visible on the top floor, more a narrow guard's post than an actual room, and the walls to either side of the building.
It was easy enough to find the lady once I'd actually entered the place. It was unnaturally, mercifully, blessedly cool inside. The whole place smelled strongly of parchment, leather, and dust. Innumerable shelves formed tight aisles that meandered through the space, each numbered and labeled methodically. Two more guards, these in the deep purple of the lady's house, stood guard at either end of one aisle. Their charge broswed the shelves between them, deep in conversation with a young man. I waited patiently for a break in her speech to clear my throat.
She handed a book back to the young man, barely pausing long enough to cursty before walking towards me. The nearest guard stepped aside mechanically to keep out of the lady's way. She had followed my own instinct in dress for the day, deep blue leggings and a gossamer white tunic. Her hair, a mess of different shades of brown and red, brought to even higher contrast by the summer sun, was piled on top of her head in tidy braids. Her naturally bronze skin was darker this time of year than when I'd last seen her, and the extra sun lent her a strength and majesty rarely seen outside of the skulblakan. "Princess, you're even earlier than I dared to hope. Thank you for your haste."
"Anything for you, Lady Devina." I nodded politely to her and to the man trailing awkwardly at her heels. "Please, Lilly is fine. I haven't the time for added formalities. I would ask that you get me up to speed as quickly as possible."
"Of course," Devina scooped up a pile of books and gestured at the youth to do the same. She then started up a narrow staircase sequestered in the back of the room at a considerable pace; the woman had reserves of energy unlike anything I'd ever seen. "Your timing couldn't have been better, actually. I've consulted with our healers and with the crew mates of the deceased, and all accounts rule out infection. None of the men had a single contact in common, they all had wildly different destinations and diets, and even drank different spirits."
I sighed in relief. Very few things frighten a monarch like plague; being left to helplessly watch your kingdom crumble from the inside out. "Which leaves natural causes or foul play?"
"Or accidental death," the young man added. The lady and I both paused to glance at him, and streaks of garish crimson crossed his cheeks. "I-I… my apologies, I-"
"What's your area of study?" I asked.
"Primarily history, Your Highness. But I did briefly study law and public record-keeping, plus sociology and—"
"I see. And, as I already said, it's Lilly. Your name is?"
"Jeod, Your…Lilly."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Are you free to advise us?"
His face lit up. "Of course!"
The three of us set up shop in one of the private wings of the library, spread out over two tables. Our young assistant busied himself taking notes as Devina finished filling me in. "Three unconnected men all dropped dead within a seven-day period. They were strong, fit, well-respected captains that had sailed for over sixty years between them. They had no known health problems and not a single enemy between them."
"I would think that the fact they were all sailors would be a connection in and of itself?" Jeod said quietly. "Theirs is a world unto itself; most of the seafaring sort spend their time on the docks."
"Then we should definitely ask around there to see what people may know," I said.
"Easier said than done." Lady Devina rested her hands on her hips. "It's a tight-knit community down there. If they smell an investigation they'll close ranks."
"We have to risk it. We're not going to get anywhere at this rate." I leaned over the table, sizing up our diligent little helper. "And you're going to make it possible."
-:-_ -:- -:-
Jeod fidgeted in his disguise. The ratty clothes were much too large for him, drowning his already lanky build, and smelled like they'd been buried under rotting fish. Even with all our attention to detail, it would all be for nothing if he couldn't play the part. He glanced back at us and I gestured for him to drop his damn hands. He shook his head like a drenched puppy and meandered off toward the docks.
Devina pressed two fingers to her temple and grimaced. "I haven't had such misgivings about a scheme since my sister and I borrowed our mother's jewels for a game. The gardener tanned both of us when he found our buried treasure; we didn't sit comfortably for a week!"
"And there's more at stake tonight than just a beating," I added, "but I have every confidence in our comrade." I flipped open one of the books Devina had brought along for our study session and got to work skimming through it for ay mention of sudden heart failure. We hadn't been back to work particularly long before an unpleasant interruption greeted us.
"My lady!" A guard knocked on the door, two sets of two sharp raps.
Devina stepped into the hall for privacy. She needn't have bothered; particularly acute hearing was one of the easiest gifts to achieve with magic. "Has there been another death?"
"Yes My Lady, only minutes ago. My men have sealed off the tavern where it happened, no one in or out."
"Excellent. Take a list of everyone present for the incident; I don't care if it takes all night."
"Yes Ma'am." He trotted back down the stairs. I took the opportunity to exit our headquarters.
"Lilly? Where—"
"To the crime scene, naturally."
Devina's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious!"
"If you're nervous, you're welcome to keep plodding along in here. I need to examine the victim, the witnesses, and anything else that might still be there. And besides," I shoved a handful of loose papers and a charcoal stick into a pocket, "I don't want our henchman to get swept up with the others."
-:- -:- -:-
The crowd milling around outside the tavern was ravenous for any news. Some looked for husbands or sons, and they were the loudest of the group by far, but most were much more garden-variety gawkers. It was an immutable law of the world; nothing stirred a crowd like violence, gore, and tragedy. Luckily for me, I had a very peculiar bodily feature that allowed me to part the crowd with a single offered palm. Since every rider not loyal to the king had vanished decades ago, it was as good as a whole procession of trumpets to announce my identity.
The building was nothing special on the outside; weathered wood planks and dingy windows. Inside it was even less special. Some round tables, mismatched stools, a long bar, and a hearth that lay dark in light of the ungodly heat. Seven people milled around near the entrance, each one angrier than the last. The eighth occupant lay on the ground near the bar, crumpled onto his side.
I approached the body without much apprehension; death was so common in my life by then that very little could faze me. Still, I wasn't quite prepared for just how young the man was; no more than thirty. He was curled on top of broken glass and pooled beer, likely his own mug that he'd dropped in his fall. He was dressed fine as any nobleman: embroidered turquoise shirt, embellished leather belt, and a garnet ring on each finger. But it was the boots that told me the most; they were freshly polished, made from exquisite leather, hard soled, sported an inch-high heel, and fastened with intricate silver buckles. No self-respecting sailor, not even the most flamboyant captain, would choose something that impractical. This was the sort of gent one would expect to see rubbing elbows in the country houses or shmoozing the minor nobles; either one of their peers or a merchant who'd made good enough investments to pretend to be. That breaks our connection. So where does that leave us?
A guard entered the room and stood at attention. "Princess, there's a man who claims to know you. What should we—"
"Bring him in. He's assisting me while I'm in the city." I checked for the man's purse. It was depleted (no doubt from a night of debauchery), but certainly not emptied as one would expect in a robbery. I listened for the quick, timid steps of my helper. "What do you have to report?"
"Not much I'm afraid. From what I could tell, they were well-liked men. No two people knew more than one of them well."
"And I'd wager that it would be a similar story in this case." I crouched lower and turned the man's head to face the ceiling. "He's already blue in the face. Normally, corpses take longer to wilt in heat like this. It's almost as if he suffocated? But there's nothing constricting his airways. Did anyone report him panicking?"
"No. They thought he'd nodded off until he fell."
I frowned. He would have been a handsome chap, if not for his aggressive eyebrows and over-large nose. "Jeod, come closer. Do you see this here?"
"See what? Oh, closer? Me? Really, I'm fine—"
I glanced back. The poor lad had his eyes glued to the ceiling.
"I promise, the dead don't bite. I find them much more convivial than the living more often than not." I patted his hand and returned to the corpse. "Look here, about his nose. It's irritated; like he's been ill." My stomach tightened. Dear gods, not a plague. Anything at all but a plague.
"No, not quite like that." Jeod swallowed hard and moved closer. "In fact, most of the irritation is on the inside of the nasal passage. It's typical in those who often inhale large quantities of dust or other irritants; like miners or glass blowers. The particles cut up the passageway and cause inflammation."
I stared up at the kid. "Was that history or sociology?"
He grinned self-consciously. "That was years spent watching craftsman in the market square."
"Aren't we just full of surprises," I said, standing and clapping him on his shoulder. "Let me scribble down a message for Lady Devina. Then you can get out of here and into a warm bath."
Relief washed across Jeod's face. "Your kindness is appreciated."
Once I'd sent my assistant on his way, I moved some mugs from an abandoned table and ushered over the witnesses one at a time. Four I dismissed immediately; they'd all come in together and were piss drunk. Even if they'd been nose-to-nose with the man it's doubtful they would have retained a scrap of information about him. Two more followed them out the door; a pair of lovers who'd spent the whole evening locking lips in the corner. They remembered him walking in alone but paid him little mind after that. Luckily for me, the last man proved to be the break I needed.
He was a young sailor by the look of his sunburned cheeks and uncreased eyes. I could feel him sliding around my questions, but never once could I catch him in an outright lie. I examined him more closely, grasping for any detail. His clothes were unassuming, but the boy himself was… pretty. There was simply no better word for him. He had fae, delicate features; shaggy brown hair, full lips, hazel eyes guarded behind long lashes, and a soft jawline. But, more than anything else, I noticed his pixie-ish nose; thin, upturned, and irritated. Between every evasion he'd sniff and rub the tip of his nose, though it wasn't running. Jumping onto a hunch, I cut off my line of questions. "Enough of this. I believe that you didn't know the man in question."
"Thanks," He answered dryly. "Can I go now?"
"Not just yet. See, I believe that you and my victim might have a mutual acquaintance. And it has something to do with whatever is bothering your sinuses." I offered a handkerchief coyly.
The sailor's jaw tightened. "I get it from my mother's side. They own a little farmland south of the city. The whole pack of them look like this every year; from thaw to frost."
"Sure. Look, I'm not particularly interested in arresting you," He paled, staring at me in indignation, "but I will if I must. You've seen that man before even if you never knew his name, and I need to know where." I stood, mirroring a pose from my beloved mentor and resting both palms on the table. I leaned in and dropped my voice to a playful whisper, "Your time is almost up."
"Fine!" Turns out that the kid didn't have much stamina for threats. He cricked his neck, tapping his foot nervously. "But you can't tell him who sent you."
"Your secret is safe with me."
"It's an Inn by the docks called the Quiet Island. Head in and ask to rent the backroom. The barkeep will give you a key, then you can head to the last room on the left. He's in there. That's all I know—"
"And what exactly happens in this mysterious backroom?"
"People go to buy… medicine." He swallowed hard.
The fog of unanswerable questions cleared, revealing one obvious truth. "Drugs."
The boy nodded. "This guy and the stuff he's peddling is brand new. The folks around here don't like new faces, but it's worth it." A smile twitched on his face, then vanished at my glare. "It's supposed to take away the pain of living."
"And does it?" I just wanted to keep him talking. I was completely taken aback by just how passionate a response I got.
"Yeah." His eyes misted over like he was remembering the most beautiful dream. "It's like floating in clouds… the most peaceful I've ever been in my life. But it's expensive," he refocused slowly, misery edging his words, "and it works a little worse every time. You start smoking it, then snorting it… anything to get as much as fast as possible. But it's never enough."
"If it's so expensive, how did you end up using it?"
"You don't need money when you look like I do." He curled his lip in disgust. "The old man spots me in exchange for "favors" when my shakes get too bad to handle."
I swallowed hard. He wasn't much more than a kid, and yet he was already working on a ship, hooked on gods only knew what, and willing to do the unthinkable to keep it all afloat. "Is there a way to get off of it?"
"People say you get less sick if you ween down slow. Course, he never lets me leave with the stuff, even if I wanted to."
"Do you? Want to, I mean."
"What do you fucking think?" He crossed his arms and legs, protecting as much of himself as possible. "Look lady, I don't need your pity, but I don't need you getting the wrong idea either. That son of a bitch can burn for all I care, and his dope along with him."
"It's not pity," I scooped up the deceased man's purse and dropped it onto the table. "Call it thanks for all your help. Now, get yourself clean before you end up like him," I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, "and get out of here."
The boy licked his lips, warily scooping up the pouch of coins. "And you'll keep me out of it?"
"Your secret is safe with me."
We found that young man's body the next morning. He was curled like a sleeping cat on one of the docks. His death stung me more than most, and I took it very personally. No doubt the very coins I handed him bought the dose that killed him. But then, who's to say he wouldn't have found gold another way? Or, even if he'd never quite managed to poison himself, no doubt he would have eventually wasted away under the cruel allure of his vice.
The most frightening thing about addiction is how it makes the inflicted behave; the very best people will do the most heinous things for just one more fix. Even when you know the risks, even when everything in you is screaming for release, even when you feel your body crumbling from within. Not to be dramatic, but I can't help but notice that it's very much like love. Or, at least, it is very like the kind of love that I have known. The highs are unlike anything else on earth… but oh, dear gods, the lows. There was, however, a benefit to enduring my "partner's" cruelties: the skill to inflict them on others.
