RE: Monarch - Chapter 179: Whitefall XXXIV

Sera was gleeful at catching me flatfooted. I could read it in her smirk, feel it in the way she reveled in my story. There was little doubt in my mind that she had every intention of running to our parents the moment my story was over, making this entire state of affairs far more awkward than it needed to be. For now, she was more than happy to let me talk, ceding as much rope as possible to hang myself with. With as much as Sera had been lied to over the course of her life, she was sensitive to deceits and half-truths, so I stayed as honest as possible, only holding back certain key information, conveying the details of Kilvius’s presence in Whitefall as vaguely as I could, describing him as an old contact I’d been surprised to find here.

When I arrived at the details of the drephin assassin’s claim that she’d infiltrated the dungeon and found her father missing, Sera frowned. By the time I connected the disappearances around Whitefall with the woman’s claims, she was outright scowling, pesky tendrils of self-interest strangling her previous mirth.

As I’d guessed, she was aware of her lineage, even now.

Eventually she walked away from me mid-sentence, turning and spitting on the marble floor, planting her fists on her hips. “Gods, I hate you.”

“That much is obvious.” I hesitated. “Why, exactly?”

It was a legitimate question. In my previous life, my father had pitted us against each other, destroying any potential of a normal sibling relationship between us. But that really only began in earnest after my mother died.

“Because you always have to be the center of everything,” Sera snapped. “Mother and father have been spellbound by you for years, clinging to rumors and whispers of your every move, practically ignoring the offspring who didn’t piss off at the first opportunity.”

I resisted my ingrained instinct to rise to Sera’s bait, obvious as it was. Once upon a time, she knew exactly what buttons to press to rile me up, but after the high-stakes conflicts I’d white-knuckled my way through with Thoth, Ozra, and Ephira, Sera’s attempts felt trite.

“If it makes you feel better, Mother refused to see me yesterday.”

That caught Sera off guard. Some of the fire went out of her, and she looked away. “Yeah. She does that sometimes. Never really understood why. Most of the time she’s so storybook motherly, and, uh…”

“All-knowing?” I suggested.

Sera snapped her fingers. “Omniscient, yes. To the point you think she’s going to be perfect and have the right thing to say every time.”

“Until she refuses to see you and offers no explanation,” I said, relieved to discover I wasn’t the only one, and concerned at the aberrant pattern. “When did that start?”

“A little after you left. Like she’s just tired of us, all at once.” She brushed a stray golden bang behind her ear, her cold eyes tracking to me. “At least you hold father’s favor.”

“While it lasts.”

“While it lasts—” Sera cut off awkwardly, realizing I’d just said exactly that. She gave me an odd look. “Less naïve than I remember.”

She was right. I had been naïve, once. But those days were long past. “Got it beaten out of me.”

“The king will be elated to discover that actually works,” Sera joked, and I snorted.

We shared a rueful smile, and it struck me how simple it was to connect with her. In my past life, when the plan to abdicate and install one of my siblings as regent in my wake was still taking form in my mind, I’d tried everything I could think of to break through the hostility. Bribes in the form of keys to the armory, fine horses, even engaging Thaddeus’s services.

Now that I thought about it, I’d once believed the camaraderie we’d developed in the last few months before my failed departure was nothing more than lip-service, paid only because Sera believed she’d be getting something out of it. But regardless of how it ended, those months of sharing stolen wineskins in the stables were genuinely pleasant, and having her to talk to during a time I had practically no one else?

It really wasn’t so bad.

A groan cut through, the moment ruined as we both turned towards the drephin woman, stirring beneath the blanket. Almost nonchalantly, Alten lifted her head with one hand and slammed it back down, cracking it against the marble, pulling back the blanket to check her eyes again.

“Really?” I said.

Alten rolled his eyes. “Come off it. She was waking up.” As an afterthought, he checked her pulse and frowned. “Back under for now, but probably best I don’t do that again.”

“From what I saw in the pits, he’s a gifted warrior.” Sera’s eyes slid to me. “But you really let him talk to you like that?”

In truth, I hadn’t even noticed. “Seeing as how Alten just saved my life? He can talk however he wants. More importantly, what do you intend to do?”

Sera’s frustration radiated from her like an aura. Judging from her earlier glee, she probably expected this to go very differently. But I could tell the drephin woman’s comment combined with my story of nonhuman disappearances had piqued her interest, and my lack of animus towards her was taking the fun out of blowing all of this up.

Finally she blew out air, putting a gloved hand to her temple. “Alright. Fine. But only because I’m bored, and the idea of making you explain all this to our parents is significantly less entertaining than the chance of hunting down some apex monster.” She pointed at me, her expression stern. “But if you screw me on this, or hog the glory, there will be consequences.”

I held my hands palms out, both pleased, and a little surprised. “Hells, I don’t care who gets credit, so long as it stops.”

“That a problem for you, mouthy guard?” Sera directed her attention towards Alten.

Alten stared back at her. “Princess, I will do anything short of dance for you if it means finally getting a move on.”

Sera sniffed, angling her nose up and striding towards the door. “Discipline your dog, brother. I tire of his barking.”

“Woof woof,” Alten said, entirely without inflection.

Sera flipped him the bird and glanced at me. “Emissary’s quarters, right?” When I nodded, she rolled her shoulders. “Not far. Should be easy enough if we take it slow, avoid any lingering servants, and time our movements between patrols. I’ll knock twice when it’s clear.”

My older sister slipped out before I could say anything else. A low growl slipped from Alten’s throat, as he resumed wrapping the drephin in the thick blanket. “What a peach.”

“For Sera, that was actually pretty reasonable.”

“Love to hear it,” Alten muttered. Someone knocked twice—presumably Sera—and before I could move to help, Alten threw the bundled drephin over his shoulder. “We get caught, or that delightful sister of yours turns us in, we just tell it by the numbers, no? The assassin attacked us, we won, and got lost on our way to the dungeon.”

“It’s plausible. Been a long time since I was in the castle. Plenty of long hallways and winding corridors that look similar.” I wasn’t expecting an immediate betrayal from Sera. For now at least, the possibility of action captivated her. The danger would come later, if progress slowed, or she got the feeling we were intentionally edging her out. Then, it was anyone’s guess what she’d do. But I appreciated Alten’s commitment to caution.

“Well.” Alten grunted, shifting the woman’s weight into a more comfortable position. “Let’s get moving.”

Our trek through the castle with questionable cargo in tow was tense, laden with stops and starts. Sera took the lead and pulled more than her share of the weight, checking the long hallways and distracting a pair of off-duty guards drunkenly returning to their quarters post-shift.

This is stupid.

The thought occurred to me more than once, as we covered ground. The simplest way to handle this would have been calling the guard and alerting my father to the potential breach. But if I did so, and we found the shaman safe and sound in his cell, it wasn’t the sort of thing King Gil would laugh off. His trust would be damaged. And the independence he’d afforded me since my return to Whitefall could be easily rescinded.

By the time we arrived at Maya’s quarters, Alten was red in the face. He’d insisted on carrying most of the load, despite my repeated attempts to aid him. Sera stood behind us at the T of a long hallway, arms casually crossed as she kept watch. “Hurry up,” she said.

I reached out to steady myself on Maya’s door, preparing to knock, only for the unlatched door to swing open from the scant pressure. The interior was dark. A feeling of uneasiness seeped through my pores as I spotted a human-sized silhouette pressed against the wall.

“Maya?”