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Monarch - Whitefall XVII
🕑 Added 2023-01-14 02:26:18 +0000 UTC“You’re a fool.” Annette’s face was the very picture of scorn, her cheeks flaming red.
We had caught back up to the carriage quickly, and now Annette stood awkwardly in the center, gripping the hem of her silver skirts tightly.
“Does it help that I’m a delighted to see you, deliriously happy fool?” I tried.
“I think not,” Annette said.
Melody rose, sweeping the skirts of her dress aside. “Take my seat, princess—”
“She’ll do no such thing” King Gil growled. He leaned forward, casting a shadow over Melody and Maya.
Everyone froze. Too late, I realized this was a mistake. He’d been so damned agreeable since we reunited I hadn’t thought twice about adding one more person to our retinue.
“Father—” I started.
“Was it her hunters that turned the tide? Her magic that pierced the barrier? Did she heal our wounded, or come back from the bloody hells?” King Gil glared at Melody.
The noblewoman unfroze and settled back down slowly. Annette gazed at the carriage floor, her mouth set in an even line.
King Gil leveled an icy gaze at Annette. “She may stand, or sit elsewhere, or be crushed beneath the wheels of the carriage for all I care. Such is the fate of many children incapable of obedience. But you will not give her your seats.”
The unfairness of his words—not to mention, flagrant hypocrisy—wasn’t lost on me. I wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of obedience either, yet there was an upcoming banquet in my honor. I wanted to defy him. But it was never so simple, with my father. From his reaction, he already intended to punish Annette, though for the time being the punishment would probably be small, indirect.
If I confronted him that small punishment was likely to escalate. It was his way.
“May I turn, father?” Annette asked, head still lowered in deference.
“Please. Spare me your wilted face.”
Annette turned, arms clasped behind her back. Her cheeks were still flushed, but she stood ramrod straight, her spine fully elongated, a stoic expression on her lips.
Though I was still cringing at the circumstances that brought us together, I couldn’t help but marvel at her poise.
There was a part of me that always found Annette stuffy and unapproachable, before.
Took her frigid demeanor as judgement.
But now that I had a wider perspective, one divorced from the petty sibling rivalry that plagued our childhood, I felt nothing but respect. Even as she endured our father’s ire, my sister was the very picture of nobility, possessing infinitely more dignity than I could have aspired to at her age. And it had nothing to do with her blood, or line, or similar mindless notions of heritage. It was a learned skill, and one Annette had honed to the fullest.
I struggled, trying to come up with a way to recover, something to say to her as the carriage wound through the city streets.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Maya was shaking. She looked at war with herself, eyes constantly flicking to the princess, then away. I placed a hand on her back and the shaking stilled.
Surprising everyone, it was Eckor who broke the silence. “Uh—I like your dress, princess.”
“As do I.” Melody chimed in, jumping on the break in the silence. “Is it one of ours?”
Annette gave them both an appreciative nod. “My thanks. Sadly, no, Lady Vasemoux. It would be criminal to dirty the noble tailor’s excellent work in the open-streets.”
Melody preened at the praise.
Light reflected off a silver broach on Annette’s collar, one shaped suspiciously like a kosspiece. It gave me an idea for an opening.
“Your broach. Do you play?” I asked. If memory served Annette would have picked up the game on her own a few years back.
Annette didn’t seem to notice, instead regarding me with cautious interest. “It’s something of a hobby of mine.”
“A good choice.” I smiled. “From what I understand, it hones the mind, trains you to think tactically.”
Annette measured me, probably trying to figure out my motive for the sudden topic change. Finding none, she finally cracked a smile. “I’m still learning, but I enjoy the sport. Not to mention the endless variation. No two games are ever quite the same. Do you play, brother?”
I shook my head.
While it wasn’t entirely true and I had a rudimentary knowledge of the game, I was fairly certain that Annette’s idea of “learning” could still wipe the floor with me blindfolded.
“Been meaning to pick it up. Heard plenty of good things from a few infernal generals about how it applies to large-scale tactics, but uh, never really found someone to teach me. Most generals are busy folk, it seems.”
The persistent grind I assumed was coming from the back of the carriage stopped. Turned out it wasn’t the carriage at all, rather, my father grinding his teeth. He stopped as soon as I mentioned the practical applications.
Annette looked unimpressed. She raised an eyebrow. “You’re baiting me. I’d wager you already know how to play.”
“Well—” I stammered, caught off-guard
Annette’s eyes returned to the front. “One can learn as much—if not more from an experienced opponent as they can from an inexperienced one. If you are as inexperienced as you say, it will present a teaching opportunity. If you are not, it may grant me a decent opponent. For once. I accept. On the pre-requisite that you play at your level, nothing less, and—” Her eyes trailed to the neck of my shirt, pausing. “If you tell me the purpose of those.”
I fingered my collar in confusion and suddenly realized what she meant. The infernal ink that covered much of my body would seem utterly alien, here in Whitefall. “You’re curious about the inscriptions?”
“Curious is too strong a word. From what I’ve heard of you I doubt they’re cosmetic. I would simply like to know their purpose, and if they are indeed practical, how they work.” She quirked an eyebrow.
My inscriptions were of limited use these days. I got a decent amount of value from the haste etchings on my legs and the self-termination inscription, but the rest were woefully outdated. Most of the spells I used them for I could cast just as quickly on my own.
An idea struck me. “Well, to answer your question, they are magical. Demonic, actually. But dreadfully in need of an update. A friend in the Sanctum gave me a modification kit, but I haven’t had time to work on them yet—”
“I’d like to observe that process.” Annette said quickly, then seeming to recognize her lapse, composed herself. “That is my price for the Koss lessons. Along with enough explanation to ensure I’m not entirely lost.”
“Spoken and sealed.” I reached out and grasped her hand. She took mine with repose, then dropped it.
I glanced down at the dress, noticing it for the first time. It was a noble lady’s dress, a simple bodice with a mink-fur collar and a wide skirt—but what stood out was a smear of dirt at the knee. Now that I was paying attention, Annette wasn’t completely steady on her feet. She swayed more that the movement of the carriage could account for, and her brow furrowed slightly with every cobbled bump.
Annette injured herself—probably from a minor fall somewhere between here and the castle. And judging from Maya’s concerned gaze, no longer quite as terrified as before, I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.
A sizable bump jolted the carriage, and Annette stumbled, poise disappearing as she lost her footing.
I reached forward to steady her as Maya did the same. For a split-second, I saw a small green-light illuminate Maya’s fingertip as it brushed Annette’s neck.
Annette regained her footing, looked down towards her knee, then to Maya. Confusion turned to curiosity. She inclined her head, and Maya returned the gesture.
“You’re the emissary from the Enclave?” Annette asked.
“I am, along with several others in our party.” Maya said. It almost looked as if she was holding her breath. Annette’s brow furrowed. Maya withered under her gaze. But I knew, immediately what the issue was. My sister wanted something from Maya, but had little knowledge of her and had concluded there was nothing to offer in trade.
I cleared my throat. “You know, Annette. I’ll be busy for much of my time here. The Emissary could probably use a guide and pleasant company within the castle walls. Just sometimes, when I’m not around.”
Maya’s shot me a subtle look and smiled. “I wouldn’t dare impose on the princess’s time.”
Annette nodded gravely, her eyes predatory. “My scholastic duties take up much of my day, and my tutors will be displeased if I shirk them.”
“Of course,” Maya said.
“However, diplomats lacking packed schedules are a rarity in Whitefall. If my time spent with you was educational, it would be easier to justify. Would you be willing to teach me about your culture during our time together?”
Maya’s eyes widened. “I… would. But fair warning, I’m not much of a historian.”
Annette shook her head. “That’s no bother. I’m looking for broader insights. We have few texts on the Infernals and the Enclave itself, most of them full of falsehoods and fairytales. I’d like to rectify their shortcomings, separate fact from fiction.”
With that said, Annette reached out a hand.
Maya hesitated. But only for a moment before she responded in kind.
“Spoken and sealed.” Annette said, her lips pulling upwards ever so slightly at the edges in an almost-smile.
The carriage jostled to a halt to trumpeting fanfare, and Annette immediately descended the carpeted steps of the loading platform and scampered away.
Maya leaned towards me and whispered. “Is she always so…”
Transactional?
I nodded. All three of us were for most of our childhoods. Favors were our currency. We were always looking for a leg-up, searching for an advantage, anything that let us get ahead. By the time we were old enough to understand how foolish that was, it was too late to form any genuine bond between us.
It would be different this time.
/////
The main hall’s gates swung open. I was greeted with the sight of a thousand nobles crowded up on either side of the long tongue of violet carpet that led all the way from the entrance to the stairs leading up to the dais. Annette had taken her place in line on my father’s side.
Sera—still absurdly tall and dressed in Crimson-Brand robes, stood towered behind her, peering towards the gates in suspicion. The queen’s throne was obscured, any trace of her hidden behind the arch-bishop’s ridiculous hat.
“Behold! The victorious King.” The arch-bishop pronounced.
The nobles filled the chamber with polite applause, though I noted a few looks of worry and anger among them.
My father strode down the carpet and filled the empty throne.
“And with him, the prodigal son. Prince Cairn has finally returned to Whitefall. Give praise to Elphion!”
Again, the polite applause of gloved hands filled the chamber as all eyes turned to me.
The night of the coronation replayed in my mind, complete with the pyre of green-flame I’d so callously thrown my crown into. Being here felt like living that day in reverse. With one crucial difference.
My legs wouldn’t move.
“Cairn.” Maya whispered. She and the others were standing behind me, where they’d be called up after my entrance. “They’re waiting.”
The paralysis broke. I took a step. Another. And another. Then suddenly, I was just short of running, the once infinite distance that separated us from those I’d lost suddenly measurable and shrinking by the moment.
My mother was alive.
And in a matter of seconds, I would see her again.
