Heads up, this is probably the last chapter of this for a while, as I am attempting NaNoWriMo this year, and it does end on a cliffhanger.
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The sudden dissolution of 'Vivian' and Sophia's howl seemed to be enough to finally spur security into action. Danny could understand why they didn't act, and in some respects he was glad they didn't, because it would have been even odds what side they would have jumped in on, but still.
Maybe he would have been less exasperated if an angry-looking group of them hadn't started to box him in. What? Did they still think that had been Vivian after it attacked both Sophia and Matthew with a knife?
"What are you doing?" asked a harried Mr. Kynbaz, interrupting what was probably going to be an interesting fight. "You were supposed to take him to the rest of the family. Danny, Matthew wants to speak with you before he gets sent to the hospital."
"Right," said Danny, going to his side. "What about Mom and Dad?"
Maddie and Jack had been separated from Matthew and Sophia, and, more notably, the vehicles the rest of the family had been hustled off to.
"They did shoot at Matthew with live ammunition."
"Yes," said Danny as they walked, "and I threw a knife in his general direction. What's the difference?"
"You didn't miss."
"That can't be it."
Mr. Kynbaz glanced down at him, then took to scanning the surroundings again. "Regent Matthew trusted you. When you said it wasn't Vivian, he moved. He didn't even trust Princess Madeline that much."
Well, yeah. Matthew knew Maddie's opinion on ghosts. Of course he wouldn't trust her on anything about them.
Except… most people would assume Danny and Jazz were the same way, wouldn't they? Matthew knew better, because he'd been spying on them, but other people? Not so much. He worried at the bottom of his lip. That would be… complicated. It was already complicated.
On the same subject, there really wasn't a lot to distinguish… whoever had been wearing Vivian's face from a regular ghost. So maybe there were more people who'd assume that was Vivian's ghost and that she was… really mad at her mother and Matthew for some reason.
Hopefully, most people would realize that didn't make sense. Mad enough to pull a knife on them. Did Vivian know how to use knives? She probably had some combat training; Danny wasn't sure how codified into the law it was, but the royal family had a thing about being able to fight…
Security around Matthew parted and let Danny walk by.
There was something strange about the air. A sort of electric weight. Danny breathed in, deeply. He couldn't smell any ozone.
"Dannyl," said Matthew, eyes flicking up and to the side.
Danny followed his gaze. Cameras. Danny hadn't realized Matthew had let them get so close. "Regyn Mathyw," Danny replied, having to take a moment to remember the proper term for regent. What was Matthew planning? Belatedly, he tacked on a tiny bow.
He was very bad at this.
Matthew held out his hand, and Danny took it, hoping he was reading the signals right. It'd really suck if Matthew had been going for some other gesture.
"Keswyn," said Matthew, then he looked at the cameras. "We knywet…" We know that there are many questions, and some of them are ours as well. Even so, let us answer a few before we must depart. It is clear, now, that in our midst was a false face, come to beguile us and sow discord. Even so, I was fooled, and who could trust the council of those who raise weapons against a loved face, when they in turn have proved false before? But we are blessed in this, that we knew we had been blessed with–
Danny tensed, realizing what was about to happen, and Matthew paused, looking only slightly apologetic.
"We knywet that or kynekyn…" We knew that our family had been blessed with a true syvyr.
Damnit.
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Needless to say, everyone wanted to ask Matthew and Danny questions after that. He didn't particularly feel like answering them. Matthew answered some before the medics finally insisted on taking him away.
Danny returned to Basym Hyws over half an hour after everyone else, in a different car. Armored, of course.
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"...viously some kind of propaganda stunt," said the woman on the British news program playing on the TV in the media room in Basym Hyws as Danny walked into the room. All eyes turned to him, then away, back to the screen. "I don't know what the state of education in Avlynys is, but for Matthew Doris to try something like this, it must be atrocious."
"Sweet Jesus's Ghost," muttered Iris. "Try that one out when you can pronounce our last name right, British hag. I know dockworkers better educated than you."
"Taking a look at their social media," said one of the other person on the screen, "it appears that many Avlynians believe that Prince Daniel–"
"Oh my gosh, why are they calling me that?" asked Danny. "Don't they have title attenuation over there, too?"
"Hush," said Jazz, tossing a pillow at him.
"-slew a creature out of local folklore, something called an 'evil face.'"
There was a collective groan.
"I can't believe the international press is judging our family over this," said Iris. "They caught that– that thing on camera." She stilled, then twisted to stare at Danny, who was picking his way through the chairs to the seat next to Jazz. "Do you know what it was?"
"Uh," said Danny, "other than a–" He stumbled over terminology for a second. Most people here would consider ghost to mean dead person, which wasn't always the case. "-spirit," he finished with a shrug.
"How'd you know it wasn't Vivian?" asked Leo. He looked, and sounded, like he'd been crying.
"Um," said Danny, floundering. He'd never had so many people aware of his powers before. It was uncomfortable. He didn't know how much to say or not say. "Because I'd seen Vivian. Earlier. That wasn't her."
"You saw her?" asked Lewis with a sharp intake of breath. "Is she here now?"
"No," said Danny, "she went with your mom to the hospital."
"Did she say anything?"
"No," said Danny. "They can't– None of them can really talk."
"There's more than–"
"H-hey," said George, running worry beads through his fingers. "Are we– Are we really believing all this now? This is kind of… No offense, but this is all kind of… wild, isn't it?"
"Are we doubting the proof of our own eyes now?" asked Iris. There was a slight waver in her voice.
"Mass hysteria is a thing."
"Yeah, for the nocebo effect and dancing mania. Not for your dead cousin showing up and starting to stab people while your lunatic cousins shoot sci-fi laser guns and your baby cousin turns out to be psychic. That's not mass hysteria, that's a– a full blown break with reality. I'm not sure that's even psychosis anymore, George!" At this point, Iris was on her feet, screaming, looming over her twin.
"Iris," said Jazz, "are you–"
"I'm not okay! God! Dad almost died again, and you're going to pretend we hallucinated it?" She whirled and stabbed a finger at Danny. "You! Did Vivian tell you who killed her? Was it that spirit? What about the poison?"
"You don't ask ghosts how they died," said Danny, vaguely disturbed, inching away. "That's dangerous."
"Did you find out, then?"
Danny raised his hands defensively. "What do you think I've been trying to do?"
"Try. Harder." Iris spun and stalked out of the room. There was the sound of a door slamming and something glass breaking.
"I'll go talk to her," said George, quickly getting up.
"And," said the TV, which hadn't been turned off, "get this. The Fentons are ghost hunters."
"Seriously?"
"One hundred percent. Jack Fenton is actually descended from a witch hunting family that made a name for themselves in the sixteen hundreds."
"Wow, a whole family of crazy murderers. They're letting these people run a country?"
Danny stared up at the ceiling, begging for patience. "Why are we even watching this?"
"Intel," said Eugene. "Pays to be informed. And it's the most watched foreign news program in the country."
"Great," said Danny. "Where's your Mom?"
"Sleeping," said Eugene. "Tonight was a bit much for her. What about your parents? Jazz was really nervous about that. And you, of course."
"I wasn't nervous," said Jazz, who indeed appeared to be rather relaxed, compared to how tense she sometimes got. "Just concerned. But Mr. Kynbaz kept me updated about you."
Danny sighed. "They're at the security checkpoint down the hill. Apparently firing weapons at the acting head of state is frowned upon in this country. Matthew has to get some paperwork together to officially pardon them or something."
"But you did see them?"
"Yeah," said Danny. He didn't like them being so far away, but he'd be downright anxious if he hadn't seen them there.
"Good," said Jazz, relaxing… Well. Not the rest of the way, but a hair more. "I'm exhausted."
"Yeah," said Danny. He rubbed his eyes. The night might have been a disaster, but no one had died and everyone was accounted for.
Except for Aunt Alicia, but she might just be refusing to come before her harvest was put up or something like that. Or maybe the people they sent couldn't find Spitoon. The town was barely larger than a postage stamp.
"The whole thing reads like something out of a fantasy novel. The estranged prince no one knew about until this year saves the king and is knighted."
"Is that what syvyr means? It's untranslated on most of the sites."
"More or less," asserted the idiot they'd gotten on the show.
"Okay," said Danny. "I've already had enough of this. I'm going to bed, too."
Everyone's phones cheeped or rang or beeped. Danny pulled his out of an inner pocket and opened the text he'd just received. It had been forwarded from Matthew's phone, as he was apparently out of commission. It was from one of the security teams in America.
Located Princess Alicia in St. Southern Hospital. Staff claims she's been in a coma since mid-January. Please advise.