A/N: Thank you, everyone for your solidarity in the "We Hate Felix Club". He truly is a worthless piece of shit. More to come in future chapters about how he and Elodie ended up together in the first place; surprisingly enough, things started out pretty good. This chapter is called 'interlude' because it features a character that is not one of our main six. Therefore, it is a little shorter and will not follow the usual "the thing about..." format (last chapter technically did - the line "the thing about best friends" came in as soon as Elodie remembered she had one). So, I present to you Kaden's chapter. Enjoy!

Interlude One: Ghosts

There was a lot on Kaden's mind.

Not only Cordelia's latest Report debacle, but he was already missing Auden. And Finn and Hayden. At least the latter were coming home soon. They would be home and Kaden would still be down another child, his house growing emptier and emptier and emptier. Out of all his children, only Elodie had shown up for dinner, the dining table sporting far to many unoccupied chairs. Even with Josie and her family staying with him, it would not make up for the hole Auden's absence would create, a hole widened with Kase's latest departure.

And Gabbi...

Kaden poured himself a drink. He wouldn't think about that now. He couldn't. Dinner had been so nice. He didn't want to spoil a good evening.

It had been so long since he had seen Josie. Too long. Her presence was a soothing one, even if she brought her constant stream of high-energy with her. She had not stopped chattering all throughout dinner, making up for years of lost time. Mathis was content to sit back and let Josie do the talking; so many years in the political arena, and Kaden could not blame the man for putting his voice to rest. Jordan was going to make a fine replacement; he had grown into quite the impressive young man, and Kaden looked forward to working with him. Allens was in good hands, of that, Kaden was certain.

Dinner ended too soon for Kaden's liking. It was a pleasant escape while it lasted. Everyone had retired for the night, heading towards their rooms for some much-needed rest after so much travel. They said their goodnights upon the main stairwell, many more hugs and kisses exchanged. There was a tension between Jordan and Elodie that was not there upon their initial reunion, but Kaden tried not to think too deeply about it. Elodie was a grown woman; she could handle her own affairs.

Are you alright? Josie had asked, giving him a curious look, one hand gripped on his forearm. She had always been able to tell when he was preoccupied.

Fine, he had replied, giving her his best smile. The state of his mental and physical health had always been a subjective thing. He didn't wish to worry her about things out of her control.

The fire roared in the great hearth of the library, the mantle tall enough to graze his forehead. He really should not have had the fire stoked so high, or be standing so close to where the embers spat, but Kaden could not be bothered to care. There were worse things in live than ruined suits, and the cold that came over him was so sudden that the risk seemed worth the pay off of warmth.

Along with the warmth came a headache. Strange, he had never gotten headaches from drinking before - and it wasn't even like he had had a lot to drink in the first place - but maybe this was something that came with age, something that had finally gotten to him alongside crows feet and grey hair. Or maybe it was the stress. There had been a lot of that lately, weighing him down more than usual, him and Elodie both.

Even if Elodie claimed she was fine, he could tell she wasn't. She was trying so hard to prove something, but prove what was the question Kaden could not figure out. He knew she could be a workaholic just like him; it ran in the genes, unfortunately. But this...this was something else. So he had quietly, discreetly been taking things off her plate in the hopes that the haunted look about her would disappear. It hadn't worked, yet, but he would keep trying, even if the stress wore him to the bone.

You have suffered worse, Kaden told himself during his long nights spent burning midnight oil over new charters or trade deals. This is hardly a price to pay for the peace you have created.

His entire life had been a game of checks and balances. Give and take. But this game always seemed to take more than it gave.

The paper in his breast pocket weighed him down. It had been since he put it there earlier that evening. Right after Elodie had left his office, one of the guards had informed him of a request from one of the most high-security prisoners. Kaden already knew who it was before the thin slip of paper passed into his hands, a sense of dread washing over him as he caught sight of eerily familiar handwriting.

Kaden said that he would look at the request, that he would consider it. The guard must have known he was lying.

Kaden crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire, edges curling black as the ink was consumed.

"A bit late to start keeping secrets, don't you think?"

Kaden's eyes fluttered closed, willing himself to maintain what was left of his sanity.

He knew that voice. It was a familiar to him as the back of his hand. He would recognize it anywhere, even if it had been years, decades since he last heard it. Even if the person who possessed it was long dead.

He must have drank more than he thought to be hallucinating his father.

"Keeping secrets is part of any job - mine especially. If I can't handle that...well...am I even fit to be king?" Kaden replied, the words a haunting echo of the ones from so many Christmases ago that plagued him in his sleep.

"You survived him then. You will survive him now."

There was no way his father could have known who had spoken those words originally, no way for him to have lived the horrors Kaden lived. It made enduring the voice bearable, knowing it was all in his head. Kaden's mind was projecting, his stress and guilt manifesting itself in a form most likely to break him down. At least, that was what Kaden told himself. It was a better explanation than him seeing ghosts. Kaden had had enough of the spiritual and supernatural to last his whole life.

Kaden knew what he was hearing wasn't real. Then why did he wish it was?

The fire grew too hot to stand near, and Kaden retreated to his large leather recliner, one of two that faced the fireplace. He pointedly avoided looking in the direction of the voice, afraid of what he'd find if he did, and even more afraid of how he would react.

"Besides, doesn't she deserve to know?" the voice continued, a pestering presence Kaden willed would leave him alone.

"She deserves to be happy," he said, righteous in his justification even if his stomach turned at the sight of the remaining embers. She had put the past behind her, had forged a life half way across the world. No need to trouble her with ghosts of her own.

"Can't she have both?"

Kaden wanted to laugh. No one in this life got to have their cake and eat it too; if he thought that were possible, he would not be caught in his dilemma. Knowledge and heartache went hand in hand. The phrase was 'ignorance is bliss' for a reason.

"Can't I?" Kaden asked in a burst of selfishness, like he was ten years old again, throwing a tantrum. Just a boy wearing his father's crown, never able to make it fit. "Aren't I owed some happiness."

It seemed like such a silly thing to say, such a greedy notion that he could be missing anything living in his gilded palace, with a wife and six children whom he loved dearly. But no matter how much happiness they brought him, his children would still grow up without their grandparents and there was still a monster lurking in the shadows of his basement.

"All a father wants is a longer, happier life for his children."

At least the voice had the sense to sound contrite.

"I have lived more years than both you and Grandfather ever got. Does that mean my time is up?" Kaden asked, spinning the whiskey round in his glass. Maybe he was a little less sober than he wanted, but he too far deep to stop. "Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I really….I really wanted to be the next to go. I don't think I can suffer another loss." Kaden closed his eyes so that he did not completely break down into tears. His throat was dangerously constricted with restrained sobs. "Seventeen is too young. I was only two years older than that when I lost you, Mom, and Eady...when I gained a crown. That was too young."

"A pain I know well. But who lives, who dies - those decisions are not ours to make."

"You've made that decision before," Kaden countered, thinking of outspoken diplomats, falling airplanes, and a hundred summer suns. The smile on his lips was mirthless, as was the huff of laughter that escaped his lips curved around the edge of his glass. "I have been reaping the consequences of that decision my whole life."

So much blood. So much pain. So much heartache. All from one bad decision.

There were not enough apologies in the world that would erase the number of bodies now buried alongside Priya Bloomsdale.

Thankfully, the ghost offered none.

"Was I such a bad father?"

"No. You weren't a bad father," Kaden said, replaying fragmented memories of his childhood, images of the world seen through bright eyes when everything was shiny and new. Kaden had so many good memories of his father throughout years spent in the naivety of youth.

Finally, he turned to face the ghost head-on. Maxon was young, younger than Kaden ever knew him: golden blond hair and smooth golden skin shining like the golden boy history liked to paint him as. No one could see the imperfections hanging in the portraits on the palace walls. Kaden knew them intimately, though, Maxon's halo not quite as bright as it once was. It hurt, Kaden realized, to see his father this way. He reminded Kaden far too much of himself.

"You were a bad king."

Maxon's ghost remained silent. It didn't matter. There was nothing left to say.