RE: Monarch-Chapter 253: Fracture LVIII

Much of what we discussed in the bath that evening had gone unspoken for so long, living only in the silent part of my mind that still hoped, that it felt oddly vulnerable, laying it all out bare.

But, to my great relief, it appeared to be a great consolation to both of us.

We talked about many things. Some more meaningful than others. Plans for the future, great and small. The energy between us, which for months had been taut with tension of one sort or another, flattened out. As if whatever we were—whatever we could be—was a foregone conclusion. And for a brief moment that I will cherish for as long as I can remember it, we said very little at all. Simply basked in each other's company, breathing in the warmth and steam from the bath, letting the hot water relieve our muscles of the trials of the day.

I imagined it as anyone would. Once the greater threats were resolved and conflict faded to a long and prosperous peace, days ruling in service of the kingdom, my duties completed, the many nights and mornings I'd spend with her. Our family. How natural it would feel. How right it would be, without the existential threat in play.

Perhaps unwisely, I allowed myself to dream.

A pounding on the outer door roused us both from the revelry. For an instant of abject terror, I imagined the armored fist of a black shield kicking in the door, others behind him rushing in to accost Maya and take her away.

It was an unfounded fear. That was what I told myself even as I tied a towel around my waist, retrieved Resting Blade by its sheath and held it waiting in my off-hand, opening the door a crack. Instead of a guardsman, I found the bespectacled visage of a servant. His jowls were flushed red, and his rotund figure appeared to be at the lead of three other servants, one of whom was my regular attendant.

"Is there a problem?"

"That depends." The rotund man wrung his hands, expression dripping with displeasure. "You are dining with the king and queen in their chambers in less than a half hour, and from the look of it are as unprepared as the day you were born." His voice rose at the end, growing shrill.

My eyes widened, and I turned, glancing at the ornate standing clock in the corner. Time had somehow gotten away from me.

/////

What followed was madness. I'm not sure who, exactly, gave the servants the impression that the family dinner was an overly formal affair. Perhaps they simply assumed it, given the absolute rarity of the occasion.

Either way, the terms of my surrender was the wartime conversion of my rooms as a joint staging area. I was aggressively measured, then shoved into a tightly tailored embroidered coat that felt ready to rip straight down the back the second I so much as raised my arms.

Out of the corner of my eye, beyond the privacy panel, I glimpsed Maya grimacing as she was stuffed into a bodice. "We..." She grunted, and the lady-in-waiting murmured an apology. "We did not discuss how to approach this dinner at all, which was the entire reason for my visit."

"Was it?" I asked, holding back a laugh.

"Yes. Be serious, Cairn!"

"Very well." I paused as the servant buttoned my shirt to my throat. "My sisters should be easy. They already love you. Annette more than Sera, but it's close. You've already charmed the king, who is by far the biggest challenge, and my mother gifted you a dress."

"Which is undoubtedly a kind and noble gesture." Maya winced, and what little of her I could see was yanked out of view. "Nevertheless, with such a fortuitous head start I'd prefer to avoid summarily placing foot into mouth."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything." She paused, then narrowed it down. "How often should I speak? Is there a possibility for anything unexpected I should prepare for?"

"You're a guest of honor. Speak when you wish." I considered her question, running through the rather short list of things that could possibly go wrong. "It didn't occur to me before now, but my Uncle Luther will probably be there."

"Met him a few times in passing, since you returned to Whitefall. He seems... pleasant enough," Maya commented, her speech hampered by something the servants were doing.

"He is. Generally." I half-shrugged. "But sibling rivalries run deep. Be ready for my father to make scathing remarks in his direction, and for Luther to do the same. Whatever you do, don't take anyone's side or get in the middle of it."

"Being in need of guidance doesn't mean I was born yesterday," Maya said, and I could almost hear the eye-roll. "What else?"

"It varies, but on some occasions the king prefers to control the conversation. Feel free to change the topic, but if he changes it back, leave it where it is."

"Got it."

"Annette may speak to you as if you are stupid. Not because she believes you are, but because she tried to communicate more subtly earlier which went unnoticed. Especially if she's trying to warn or look out for you in some way. She talks to me the same way often."

"Understood. The King and Queen?"

"Well... it's..." I trailed off, a little taken aback by the realization that I wasn't sure. The royal family spent little time together as a general rule. In reality, factoring in my mother's death in my first life, and how liberally I'd imbibed to blur the pain of her passing, there was very little I could recall of their shared dynamic. Individually their counsel and personalities were completely different. Their arguments were rare, terrible even from the safety of distance. Looking back at some of the advice she'd given me, knowing the agenda behind it—that from my earliest memories, her intention was likely to sow the seeds that eventually led to insurrection—tainted it somehow.

If things were the same as they'd always been, Elaria's position would be understandable. Almost expected. The King had a history of cruelty that was impossible to overlook. If he'd continued the same behavior in this version of things where she was still alive, of course she'd have pause. But the fact that, despite all the improvements he'd made she was still trying to supplant him left a foul taste in my mouth.

It was as if all her moralizing and stubborn insistence on imparting what was right and wrong was nothing more than a well-dressed preamble for yet another grab for power. Because if she'd succeeded, it was far easier to rule through a pliant son than an obstinate husband.

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I banished the thought before it ruined my mood and answered Maya to the best of my ability. "The Queen will likely be withdrawn. There's been friction between us as of late, and she likely would not attend if the king didn't specifically request the presence of everyone involved."

"Should I try to engage her? Draw out her interest?"

I barked a laugh, as something about her wording reminded me of the brisk discussions we often had immediately preceding combat. "Ordinarily, that would be kind. But this is a day of celebration. If the Queen wishes to be reserved, that is her right, granted by the gods themselves. Who are we to argue?" It sounded more bitter than I'd intended.

Maya let it pass, pivoting instead. "Kholis?"

"After what we managed today? No one will take issue with us taking a holiday to travel the countryside and visit old friends."

The servant slid a jacket over my shoulders, while the other looked me up and down, eventually nodding. I glanced in the floor-length mirror. It was gaudy, and there was more attention to the embroidery than strictly necessary. But to the servants' credit, they'd done wonders with my hair, and I looked the part of prince far more convincingly than in recent memory.

"You've done well," I told them.

"For the time we had." The rotund man sniffed, fawning over my complexion like a prospector studying a gem. "More powder, perhaps?"

"Elphion, no. Someone will try to shovel me up and dump me outside." I declined, stepping out onto the main floor. As I waited, I watched the clock tick forward and tried to not look like I was eavesdropping on the mutterings behind the dressing panel. The muttering grew louder until it stopped altogether.

"Did they strangle you into submission?"

"It is fine. A little less functional than I'm used to." Footsteps echoed as Maya awkwardly walked out from behind the divider.

The emerald dress poured over her, curving across her form in a circular manner somehow reminiscent of greenery in the wind. Thin straps overlooked a generous neckline. It was like a nymph from the tales had come to life and left the forest, venturing to lands beyond. The gemstones in her necklace shone like the summer sun, reflected by the stones housed in her bracelet below. Her raven hair, typically restricted in a bun or tail hung freely straight down, though the servants had not been able to entirely wrest it of its natural waves.

I smiled despite myself. "Green becomes you."

"I'm... presentable?" She asked, shifting oddly again.

"Presentable." I agreed, circling around her, looking for the problem. It didn't take long to find it. Glamorous as the dress was, it'd been tailored specifically for a human. I raised a hand to wave over one of her attendants, a serious-looking woman with a scar across her nose. "She'll need an adjustment."

"Cairn, it's fine," Maya hissed.

The woman blinked. "What sort of adjustment, milord?"

I bent my index finger against my thumb, forming a circle. "A small opening, slightly beneath the small of her back."

"To what purpose?" She asked, perplexed.

For her tail. Obviously.

While I worked out how to say that politely, Maya cut in. "So all my appendages can be present and accounted for. A small slit or vent would suffice."

Finally, drawing the correct conclusions, the woman stared at the spot to be modified and slowly shook her head. "It would not be proper."

"It's fine," Maya insisted.

"Sorry, why would it not be proper?" I insisted.

"It's a priceless dress, your grace. Courtesy of a panthanian master tailor your mother fancies. Defacing it would be unconscionable."

"Ah. I thought it looked a little like a Beaumont."

"Yes, milord."

"So you won't do it."

"I'd prefer not to, your grace."

"Despite the fact that you have made many other alterations that could be, in flexible terms, considered defacing."

"Yes, milord." A bead of sweat appeared on the woman's brow.

"Very well." I cleared my throat. In the old days if this sort of thing happened I would have been apt to throw a tantrum. But the woman was just being mindful of her position and feared losing it. She didn't care if anyone sullied the Beaumont, she just didn't want to catch the blame for it.

I leaned forward and whispered in Maya's ear. "Be honest. On a scale of one to ten, how uncomfortable will you be if the current situation goes unaddressed?"

She pressed her lips together and grimaced, then whispered back. "A solid seven. Nothing I cannot bear."

"For my frame of reference, what is a ten?"

"...Being torn apart by vivisectaurs."

"Right." I winced. "Then we should prioritize your comfort so you do not spend the entire dinner contorted in agony, yes?"

Once she nodded, I strode to my desk and pulled it open. "Cephur sent over his congratulations." I pointed out the bottle of wine. "That we can save for later, but this, you'll find far more useful in the short term." The lowhil blade flashed dark jade in the light.

Maya's eyes widened in recognition. "Your sword breaker."

I nodded. "Not quite, but close enough. Same size. Similar weight. Feels smaller and lighter, but so were my hands. After it broke, I expected it would be years before I found another, but here we are."

"Always reliable, our ranger."

"He is." I closed the distance between us, gesturing for Maya to turn around. For a moment the maid appeared ready to comment but thought better of it. I traced the fabric with my fingertips, trailing down until I felt a slight protrusion. "This is a measure twice cut once situation, I'm afraid. What do you need?"

"A vertical cut." Maya held up her thumb and forefinger, demonstrating the span. "Shorter than you think. I'll need to reinforce it later to keep it from splitting further, but it will do for now."

I did as she asked, cutting as carefully as possible. After a rash of awkward shifting and shimmying, the spade of Maya's tail emerged, a little rumpled from the exchange but freed. While the servant wasn't willing to make the initial split, she was happy to reinforce it with stitching to prevent the alteration from splitting further.

Maya breathed out in obvious relief. "Thank the lord below."

"Thank you, lord below." I offered her my elbow.

As much as she tried to hide it, there was an obvious snort. "Can I look forward to a lifetime of paternal puns?"

"If we're lucky."

She looped her arm through mine, and we walked through the long hallways of the castle. In a way, the preparation had served as the last remaining obstacle in our path. There was no immediate peril, and despite the rash of recent unpleasantness, I found myself truly grateful for the moment of respite. A warmth rose within me, a feeling so strange and foreign I was hesitant to recognize it for what it was.

Happiness.

How long had it been since I'd been happy?

Foreign as it was, I clung to it protectively, shielding the spark amidst the windstorm.

Long shadows from the setting sun chased us down the hallway. A few black shields rushed past coming from the direction of my father's quarters, their faceless helmets restricting any insight beyond the obvious hurry. I nearly called out to one, inquiry dying on my lips as he disappeared around the corner, moving faster than most could.

I paused, listening for the undercurrents of battle. Faraway shouting or clashing steel. But there was nothing beneath the quiet evening din of the castle. But the King's quarters were unguarded. A single servant stood before the doors, stricken and pale. Beside me, I felt Maya's posture change, shift defensively.

Before I could ask any questions the servant ushered us in, all but pushing the two of us inside.

There were signs of a disruption. Spilled food and scattered plates, a handful of overturned chairs. It was a relief to see the King and Queen together—though together might have been an overstatement. They'd chosen places at opposite ends of the already long table, collective demeanors sullen and irritated, but ultimately unharmed. The light played oddly across their grim faces as the overhead chandelier swung side to side, the majority of its mana-lamps blocked by the shadow nestled in its center, a repetitive drip splattering into a growing puddle at the center of the dark wood's finish.

"What took you?" Father asked.