Chapter Text
It took some contrivance to get me to Aroughs. Dropping in on city-governing nobles is not casually done, even by royalty. I needed them to invite me into their domain (no mean feat to arrange when one hasn’t two friends to rub together). Even more tenuous, I needed to keep Antebellum out of said invitation. If it were her suggestion, then her enemies would be too on guard against me. I kept a careful eye on messages from Aroughs until an opportunity presented itself. I did not get to be choosey about the particulars.
I whined, gritting my teeth in irritation. “This is hell.”
“You have no one to blame but yourself,” Harold scolded, working through an egregious tangle of curls with a smooth comb. It hadn’t actually looked that bad when he’d begun, but my hair had slowly gained volume and rancor with each uncovered knot. “This is what happens when you leave it untouched for days of travel. If you let me do this more often, these sessions would be easier.”
“I don’t have time to waste on a beauty regimen.” I clicked my nails on the dressing table as I examined the reflection of my borrowed room. It was beautiful, all mossy greens and pale yellows. A plush bed was tucked into a curtained alcove; piled with enough cushions to comfortably a dragon hatchling. An elegant wardrobe occupied the opposite wall. The dressing table was between the two, fencing a set of circular windows speckled with mid-evening stars. The lady of the house had graciously sacrificed her own space for the honor of hosting me . As I understand it, she spends every moment at her ailing husband’s side anyway.
Has it gotten as serious as all that? Katana’s mental condition had finally improved enough that she wanted to be kept abreast of the outside world. Her gossip-loving streak may not have been her best quality, but it was still wonderful to see her coming back to life (in a manner of speaking).
I spoke briefly with the healers when we arrived. His time is now measured in days, if not less. I’d outlived dozens of notable courtiers since Galbatorix’s ascension, but it grew more and more unnerving with every passing year. Lord Halstead Senior only had a decade or two on me, and he’d been a very fit and capable man in his prime.
The price of freedom is isolation, Katana shared her own disquiet with a warm rush of empathy. She too was unmoored in time. The unaging must also be unmourned.
Too dreary a subject by far, I teased half-heartedly. Especially since we still have immortals in our very own household.
I would gladly choose solitude over their company. Her presence faded into a dream-like state; as if she felt the need to further illustrate the point.
I sighed. Harold noticed the shift from agitation to exhaustion and peeked down at my face. “We could always shear it off if it bothers you so much, My Lady. You may even start a fashion.”
What? Oh yes, hair. “No one wants to emulate me.” I forced a smile.
Harold lifted an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Well, if your hair is to stay long, then we must tend to it at least once every morning and once every evening. I’ll also put in some research with the other body servants and see if any of them have advice.” He put a hand on my shoulder and his lined face lit up with tenderness. “You can spare a moment for yourself once in a while.”
I rested my hand on top of his. “What would become of me without you?”
Harold shrugged modestly. “You would be much the same, but ever-so-slightly less beautiful.”
I chuckled and shooed him, flinging off my robe and stretching in front of the mirror. I rarely bothered looking at myself; my uninteresting form had remained mostly unchanged for so many years. It took months after my escape to reclaim the weight I’d lost in prison, and I was finally a healthy color again. I diligently [obsessively] removed the products of Galbatorix’s little tantrums as soon as feasible, so most of my scars were faded and thin (in the most extreme cases, whole swaths of fresh skin had to be grown from scratch). The jarring exception was of course the brand on my hip, still angry and red as if it had only freshly healed. Nothing I tried wold even fade the damn thing. It was even visible through my shift as I pressed a hand to the fabric. “Harold, can I ask you something immature without fearing judgment?”
“Anything and everything, My Lady.”
“Did you mean that? Am I… beautiful?” The question had never been an important one to me. It felt silly to even ask it. All my life my body had been honed to be a weapon and I was content to have it so. As a princess, no one would dare call me anything else regardless of their actual thoughts on the matter. And as to romance… one of my partners had been a sweet but naive boy and the other a manipulative narcissist (that literally shared my face). No person who was both trustworthy and experienced had ever called me anything; fair or foul.
Harold’s reflection tilted his head thoughtfully. “I suppose you are, though I admit I’ve never thought much about it.”
I laughed again, a bit harsher this time. “A tepid answer if ever there were one.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.“I mean no offense! It’s just that I haven’t put much thought into any other woman since…” he choked off his words and licked his lips.
I spun around to face him. “Since?” All my self conscious musings evaporated a possibilities raced through my mind. “ Other?”
“Since my…” he was suddenly all bashfulness and anxiety; a very different side of my calm and collected steward! He finally mumbled, “Marriage.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re married?”
He stood tall and grinned sheepishly. “Yes, my lady.”
“To whom?” I’d never been so excited to hear of someone finding love. Among nobles, it was all business and no whimsy. “I demand details!”
Harold held up his hands and looked away. “Please, I would like to speak of this as little as possible,” at my concerned look, he added, “for her safety and mine.”
The real weight of his secret collapsed in on us. He and I were both intimately familiar with how dangerous his job could become. Over the years, he’d witnessed servants perishing in assassination attempts, mass executions, and freak accidents of all sorts. And then of course there was the biggest threat of all: Galbatorix’s fickle temper. I smiled sadly at him, “Of course. I’m glad you found someone worthy of you, and I wish you both every happiness.”
His eyes softened as he grinned. With a dapper bow and a flourish, he said, “Thank you, my lady. I will pass on your well-wishing as soon as we return.” He winked. “Though I think you have the situation reversed, for I am hardly worthy of her.”
“She must be an incredible woman.” His proud expression gave me some peace. I shook my head and gestured to the dressing table. “I submit to your wisdom for the foreseeable future. I need to be presentable tomorrow and, for that, I’ll need all the help I can get.”
Harold clapped his hands and rolled up his sleeves. “Whatever it takes?”
I groaned, “If you promise not to scalp me.”
Oh Harold… Many years later, I actually had the honor of meeting his wife. Her name was Rose and she worked in the kitchens in Uru’baen! They were a charming couple really; all softness and sweetness. This diligent seperation of work and personal matters is one of the things I valued in Harold; while he was working he was an extension of my self; when he ended his duties he left all of my business behind. Galbatorix requires that his servants have nothing in their lives but him (gods, doesn’t that sound familiar?). This ensures their obedience and focus, but I think it has an adverse affect of promoting loyalty. I repaid Harold’s trust with a friend’s devotion, guarding his secret as I would guard my own.
-:- -:- -:-
I hadn’t stepped foot into a gala in many years. This one in particular was nothing spectacular, and if it weren’t so conveniently timed I wouldn’t have given the invitation a second thought. As it was, I had to reacquaint myself with the whole procedure and its many subtle changes. For example, fashions decreed that a put-together lady should wear silk gowns stiffened in the bodice. My insistence on wearing a pair-of-bodies separate from the dress itself was apparently very “old fashioned”. But I couldn’t very well sew sheaths into every gown I owned! And besides, I liked the predictability, comfort, and support of-- I realize that I’m getting very off-topic here.
In any case, this party was more than just my toe-dip back into society; it was being held by Antebellum’s future boss, Halstead’s own son of the same name. He was already an old man himself by human reckoning. This event was held to celebrate his fifty-fifth birthday; a rather tactless display considering his father’s condition (his own mother failed to show if that indicates the social response). It was clear to everyone in attendance that he was toasting more than just another milestone; he was preemptively celebrating his inheritance. He’d set aside three days and nights of entertainment, ending in a sumptuous dinner party.
Which meant I had exactly three days to find some leverage.
No doubt that the palace of Aroughs was the glittering jewel of southern Alagaesia. This port had stood longer than most of its fellows. It also had the benefit of being far from the main conflicts of our age. The maze-like structure was designed with comfort and ease at the forefront, with elegant glasswork and art on full display. The garden we currently inhabited was a fantastical interpretation of the local wildlife. Pale pink flowers as large as a grown man’s curled fist exploded along one wall, filling the whole space with a floaty, soap-like aroma. They were aided by boughs of sweet purple blooms in the latticed overhang. A massive tile mosaic occupied the garden’s center, depicting a scandalous scene of bathing women. Butlers in frilly suits handed out platters of fine, sweet wine. I can’t tell if I’m just too old or if this really is too gauche!
I think it’s both. Katana experienced the party from her place of safety in my borrowed room. While there were magical ways to keep her closer, those came with their own associated risks. Any sign of what we’re looking for?
It’s difficult to say. No one is acting strange enough to be interesting. I pivoted to one side, chatting about music with the women near me while also sneaking a view of the man of the hour. He was only average in terms of looks, but he certainly dressed the part of a lordling. His straw-blonde hair was parted in the center and slicked back into a horsetail. A doughy, lined face was all picture-perfect smiles for his many guests. He wore an ivory-embroidered doublet, purple breeches, and glossy white leather boots with block heels. The most I can say about him is that, for his years, he still seems immature and insecure.
Perhaps therein lies the source of his strife with Antebellum; he can’t stand such an intimidating and confident woman as an ally.
If that is the long and short of it, then we won’t be able to do much for her. I would only make him more agitated! I flicked open a pearl-studded fan and giggled politely at someone’s jest. The flock around me was dispersing at a leisurely glide; some to rejoin partners, others to reclaim seats, and still more to partake of the refreshments. I decided to accompany the lattermost group and ended up perched on a bench with a fresh goblet of wine. Across from me, I had a view of a young man bantering with two older gentlemen who seemed to be humoring him despite their own discomfort.
I blinked hard and focused on the young man’s movements.
Decades of court life will inevitably change how one behaves, from sheer pressure if nothing else. Those manners that I so loathed learning served a crucial function; uniformity. Polite members of society followed them like gospel. Which made it all the more interesting how this particular young man seemed to be utterly clueless! He did not give off the air of a rude and careless person, quite the opposite. Rather, it seemed that he was feigning manners with no idea of the nuances. He lifted his little finger like a foppish child, but would stare up from a glass while still drinking. He took small bites and chewed politely, but he held his fork all wrong; tines up like a farmer hoisting hay. It's a shame Madame Tutor didn't live to see the day I'd apologize to her.
Oh? What for?
Apparently, cutlery can tell you quite a bit about a person. I meandered into a different group’s conversation; all niceties and platitudes. I believe that I’ve just found a spy.
It was tedious work and, in the end, I couldn’t risk asking any direct questions about the curious young man. This left me with a handful of options, but one of them seemed much more pleasant than all the rest: I stalked him back to his room. This too was tedious, but at least it was quiet. Once I’d located his quarters, I had only to bide my time.
Dinner was an exercise in exasperation . I sat to the young Halstead’s left side, directly across from his poor mother. The woman was frail and looked rather ill herself, but she still made an effort to be pleasant to her guests. She wore a veil over her grey hair and an embroidered robe-like gown in a deep, berry hue. Her son seemed completely unaware of his mother’s exhaustion as he made constant attempts to engage the woman in shallow conversation. It was painful to watch her smile and nod along with whatever he proposed as she floated in weary resignation.
Finally, I judged that I’d played my part long enough. I said, “I thank you for your generous hospitality, but I’m afraid that I am not yet fully recovered from the road. I hope that you can forgive me if I abscond?”
I was glad that the lady of the house responded first. “There is nothing to forgive, Your Highness. Please, take your leave of us and make yourself at home.”
I rose, bowed my head to the room in polite acknowledgment, and swept back up to my chamber.
Harold was already prepared for me, clever thing that he was. With his assistance, I shucked off the frills and slid into something more suited for my designs. A baggy tunic in dull, fawn brown hid the few curves I possessed and a few tweaks of my cosmetic magic altered my appearance enough so I wouldn’t be recognized. “I leave the room in your capable hands. Under no circumstances should anyone be allowed past this door. I don’t care if the gods themselves descend from on high, they can stand in the hall until I return.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good.” I tossed on a capelet and saluted Harold with a wink. “I shouldn’t be long.”
-:- -:- -:-
This palace was strangely noisy . The castle in Uru’baen was many magnitudes larger and hosted more people, but it was also not a very cheerful place. Any socializing was kept to parlors and private parties save for the two solstices; every other night it was quiet as a tomb. Here, minor courtiers flitted about like birds on the wing. They whispered, giggled, sang, drank, and some even played in the open courtyard like drunken children. I lowered my chin to my chest and swayed drunkenly. Halfway to my destination, I found a bucket and mop to aid my disguise. No one paid me half a glance.
I crept up to the mystery man’s door at full concentration, every step silent as a shadow. This was like to be the hardest part of my task; if the strange young man was a mage, there was every possibility he would have some failsafe to alert him of intruders. Sure enough, I found three security measures; a rudimentary ward, a thin stick near the hinge, and a set of small chimes just inside the doorway. People are so paranoid about locking their doors. But no one ever thinks to lock a wall. I placed my palm on the bricks in front of me. “ Atra edtha thevrr stenr. ” The wall in front of me remained unchanged, but my palm sank into it as if it were no longer there. The sensation was unsettling; like being coated in skin-tight icy glass. I took a quick gulp of air and stepped through the wall into the dark room beyond.
A jolt of anxiety nearly froze me in place. I choked on the sudden need to gasp for air. My whole body tensed like it had been stretched on a rack. I hurt. I wanted to leave, but I was stuck in place. My eyes scrunched tight as if anticipating sudden injury, but none came. Vague buzzing rattled in the back of my head. I grasped at it, but it still took ages for me to hear it for what it was.
Lilly, please answer me! What’s wrong? Katana’s concern shattered my panic, though the physical after-effects were still powerful.
My thoughts evaded words. I shoved the jumbled mess toward Katana, from the feelings themselves to my slow improvement. Sorry.
No need for that. You just scared me; it was like you were suddenly very far away.
I blinked. I don’t know why. I can’t stop it.
Katana tucked a thread of thought deeper into her consciousness before I could see it clearly. For now, try making yourself a light.
Shaken and disoriented, I did as she asked. A small blue werelight jumped to my palm, glowing against my shuttered lids. I peeked my eyes open and most of the tension rushed out of me, leaving my limbs numbed and aching. And then embarrassment took its place. I think I know what happened. We can talk about it later. Thank you for saving me from… me.
Anytime. I think I’ll stay present for a minute. I’m as curious as you are about what this mystery man might be hiding. Her lie was obvious as hell, but I was grateful nonetheless.
Finally, I calmed enough to look around the room. It was mostly plain, just a lime-washed brick box with three yellow roses painted on the far wall. It also contained a bed, a writing desk, a locked trunk, and a cabinet with a basin of water. I swept the room methodically but turned up precious little by way of evidence. The trunk’s lock gave after a quick spell, but it held only enough clothing for the events of the party and one extra pair of boots for traveling.
I was about to give up entirely when I noticed that the trunk was deeper on the outside than on the inside. A moment of prodding later and the false bottom popped up to reveal a flask and a bag of coins. I unscrewed the cap of the flask, wafted it carefully, and cringed. Truly, few weapons were as brutal or as personal as seithr oil. No matter how it reached its target, it guaranteed one thing without exception: a very painful death. No doubt about it, he’s an assassin.
I wonder who he’s here to target? Katana already seemed amused.
I think we may need to ask him.
-:- -:- -:-
The thin stick slid from the hinge, the ward came down, and the door swung inward with a tinkle of chimes. The odd young man entered his room with a rushlight already in hand. He lowered it to the wick of a lamp before blowing it out and setting it next to his basin. Then he splashed his face and rubbed it with a cloth before turning and falling straight back into the cabinet with a crash.
I sat on his bed, picking my nails with one of my thinner blades. “Took you long enough.” He tensed like he was about to pounce so I quickly added, “ Bindr .” His elbows, wrists, ankles, and knees all snapped together. He dropped like a sack. “None of that, if you please. I’m in no mood to chase down my potential employees. This interview shall proceed as follows: you tell me what you’re here to do, and then I will decide if I can make enough use of you to let you live.”
He spat, “Who the hell are you?”
I sighed. “You asking questions of your own was not on the itinerary. You can call me Viper. And you are?” He bit his lip and shook his head. “Alright, fine. Why don’t I catch you up to speed? You are an agent, most likely of the Varden, and very probably an assassin. The punishment for either is a ruthless execution. Is there anything you would like to add before I call for a guard?”
“I don’t work for the damn Varden!” He growled, “I was invited by Lord Halstead himself--”
“So you’re a homegrown troublemaker.” I was honestly a little disappointed. I’d been searching for a Varden contact without luck since my return. “Who is your target?”
“Lord Bramblebay and his wife.”
People need to take naming their children more seriously, Katana sniggered.
You’re named after a blade, I’m named after a flower. I don’t think either of us are allowed to judge anyone. I cleared my throat. “I’ll assume that you weren’t given an explanation? That’s a shame. When is this to be done?”
“The third night of the party, after the feast.”
I nodded, weighing my options. Presumably, these poor party guests have stumbled upon the soon-to-be-lord’s weak point. But I doubt even they are fully aware of it, lest they would never have shown their faces here.
Perhaps he only believes that they have. Katana reasoned. Hard to say without more information.
I’ll make their acquaintance tomorrow and search their room in the evening. Harold has a reasonable excuse to mingle with the servants as well. If none of those stir up a lead, then I’ll have to ask them directly. I turned my full attention back to my hostage. “Congratulations lad, you just gained a new employer. For now, you are to proceed with your assignment exactly as instructed. I’ll swear you to secracy over this little exchange and, when all is said and done, we can discuss your future.”
He blinked at me in obvious distress. “And if I refuse?”
I tilted my head back and laughed. “Why would you?”
It strangely felt good to be back in the saddle after my ungraceful defeat in Farthen Dur. I sensed something off about this place, like a pastry filled with deadly poison. An ailing lord, a morose matron, their arrogant son, and a few dozen “innocent” bystanders; what secrets lay buried within this pretty shell? At the very least, it provided a relief to the monotony of socializing!
And for every little inconvenience I faced, Antebellum’s debt to me only grew.