RE: Monarch - Chapter 211: Fracture XVIII

It occurred to me later that I should have felt more, forcing Kilvius’s hand like this. Some sense of responsibility, or at the very least, guilt. As it was, I felt nothing at all.

Before Thoth drove the dagger home and I meddled with my own soul, the guilt was always there. A primary force comprised exclusively of my own failings, driving me forever forward. I saw it in the faces that haunted my dreams, felt it in the passage of every waking minute that went by without progress or improvement. Only now, it was gone.

Only the frost of numbness remained.

“I’ll let the two of you talk,” Maya said, taking her leave down the cobbled steps. Her strained smile said it all. Whatever they’d discussed behind closed doors had mended some of the damage. But not all.

“Well?” Kilvius asked.

“This is hardly an inquest. We’re just talking.” I looked up, to where members of my regiment were still knocking on doors, undoubtedly asking after an unnamed noble matching Annette’s description. “It’s the second time they’ve been out here, looking for a woman. Given the sheer volume of gossip that circulates these parts, they’ve already drawn very different conclusions.”

“Those with a keen ear likely have no idea what to think at all. Given… the most recent events.”

My reaction was instantaneous. My fists clenched at my side, and the mountainous air was suddenly in far shorter supply.

Kilvius drew the right conclusions quickly. It was something I’d always liked about him during our time in the Enclave, only now, the same trait was working against me. Several tactics I could use to move this conversation in a more cooperative direction popped into my mind unbidden, and I reviewed them, keeping my face neutral.

When Kilvius spoke again, his voice was barely audible over the din of the busy street. “I don’t know who she was. Or what she meant to you. But from all accounts, she was one of a kind.”

“And you know this how?”

Kilvius grunted, rubbing at the shadow of stubble on his jaw. “I take an interest when any of my assets—friendly or otherwise—do anything out of turn. Such as taking a cohort of armed men to a cemetery and unearthing the dead.”

Dead

The word hung in my mind, catching at the spokes, eroding focus. I needed to stop him before the distraction worsened.

“And has your interest been sated?”

“Enough to conclude it is not my business.” Kilvius studied his pointed nails, rubbing at the quick. “What remains is little more than idle curiosity. A question. One that my network and associates are incapable of answering.”

“Ask.”

“My wife—the one you took from me—told me something, once. It seemed like nothing at the time, an idle observation in the night with little meaning behind it. ‘His heart remains in Whitefall.’”

Despite the sheer pain of what he was poking at, I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not like Nethtari at all.”

There was a flash of a smile across Kilvius’s features before it was gone. “What you saw during your time with us was just how she was with the children. A cold pragmatist unamused by whims of fancy and pointless theoreticals. Probably to counter my whimsical and carefree influence. But in private, she did fancy, and she did dream.”

I thought back. “There were moments of vulnerability where you could see it. Especially when she was drinking.”

“In time she dreamed of a day when a certain ward became family. For all the good that did her.” Kilvius ground a heel into a small mound of impacted snow, clearing it from his doorstep. “While I appreciate the opportunity to speak to my daughter again in a non-hostile environment, our time together grows short. Once whatever shit-heap you’ve brought down on my head is resolved, and the rash of abductions beyond that, I expect you and I will not meet again. Persephone will handle any official business. My role here requires discretion, and you garner too much attention to associate with even in secret.”

“So you will help me.”

“Only if you sate my curiosity.” Kilvius leaned against the wall, shivering slightly as he contacted the cold surface. “The girl. Who was she to you?”

There was a time I might have described Lillian and our relationship in such vivid, ponderous detail that anyone who asked would likely regret it. That time was long past.

“A lesson.”

Kilvius raised an eyebrow. “Of what nature?”

“That anything I care for can be taken away at any time.” The words came out harshly, almost forced. “Any vulnerability, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant presents an avenue of attack. And that… perhaps the wisest course is to simply not care at all.”

“Then we are both lost in the same endless cavern.” He chuckled darkly, musing to himself. “Damned as we are. Me, undone by my own kindness, and you, a prime example of one of life’s greatest ironies.”

“Which irony?”

“That those who strive hardest to separate themselves from their parents inevitably become them.”

It was all I could do not to take a step back. He could have gutted me open with his claws and left me bleeding on the snow with less impact. It was a killing blow, intended to sully and sever any history we had with one decisive strike. Part of me wanted to rage, to recount in detail every single painful death and heartbreak that brought me to this point. To shake him out of his single-minded hatred for me, if nothing else. But there was no point. He’d only forget.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

It was better to focus on the things I could still change.

To not care.

I leaned against the wall beside him, so I didn’t have to look him in the face. “My younger sister was relocated from the palace last night.”

“Relocated. Not kidnapped?” Kilvius observed.

“By the king’s decree, her time as a carefree princess is over. She’s being married off to solidify a relationship with a so-called-noble house in the land of their holdings.”

“House Westmore.” Kilvius’s expression soured. “They’ve carved out an influential niche in the last few years, especially for vermin who started as nothing more than base slavers. But that is a poor trade by any reasonable scale. Especially considering the rumors.” He began to speak again, then stopped, cocking his head. “And Uskar does not expend its royalty without cause. There’s another reason I take it?”

“Due to recent events, the king questions my judgment.” I ground out. “And this is the method he chose to test my ability. Test or not, the threat is real. If I don’t find Annette come midnight, she will likely be lost to me forever.”

Metal whisked against leather as Kilvius withdrew the knife from his belt, manipulating it, surprisingly dextrous. “There are many noble houses that play at the fringes of the illicit, dipping their toes in questionable waters for nothing more than petty thrills. House Westmore is not one of them. They are far more entrenched in the lower channels of society than any other group in Whitefall I care to name.”

“Then I’ll be doing the kingdom a service.”

“That answers my follow-up. Did you learn nothing from your dealings in the Enclave?” Kilvius shook his head. “Power is power, illicit or otherwise. You cannot simply eliminate those that oppose you and hope others more difficult to deal with won’t immediately fill the void.”

“I don’t have time for this.” I rubbed my head hard. “And if my father intended a diplomatic solution, he wouldn’t have started this by setting an impossible time limit and swinging a sword at my head. Even now, he’s likely on his way here, eager for the second round.”

Kilvius’s brows knitted together. “Warranted or not, what you just expressed is an emotional reaction. Think. Is it possible the king created this situation in order to lower your estimation in the eyes of a kingdom? Because if you tear through every Safehouse and holding facility in Topside in an indiscriminate fiery gale, it will affect your standing in the upper-city.” He shifted his head in concession. “Granted, it might not be that underhanded. If this is a test, the manner you approach a solution may be part of it.”

With the pressure in my mind building to a climax, I nearly disregarded this altogether. After all, Westmore was less than scum. They deserved to be buried, foisted from their seats of power and cast down into the dirt with the rest.

Only, my father knew my feelings on the topic. That I’d been looking for an excuse to deal with the house since my return, an excuse he’d all but delivered into my waiting arms.

I paced.

“There’s no such thing as a fair test, as far as my father is concerned. He expects me to tear Topside apart. It’s the natural conclusion to draw. So it’s safe to say he’s banking on me doing that.”

It was so easy to forget he was also a tactician, not just a singular force of nature.

“Okay.” Kilvius inclined his head.

My pacing picked up speed. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Misdirect, send me chasing shadows, maybe even force a confrontation during the search to give the impression I’m getting close. Only I’m not. Because Annette’s not in Topside at all. The safest place for him to put her in terms of insulation and coverage would be… shit.”

The Magnate’s Quarter. A relatively small section of the city for all the wealth it comprised. It was architecturally beautiful, almost on par with the palace itself, and immensely secure. For good reason, as almost every Noble House in a position of power and favor had holdings there.

Not playing fair, father. But that’s nothing new.

Slowly, I pieced something together.

“For now, you have an advantage.” Kilvius observed. “But positioning towards the Magnate’s Quarter will lose that advantage immediately.”

I smiled, despite myself. “Can’t move on the magnate’s quarter in force anyway. As soon as they see palace soldiers moving en masse, every Noble House will be up in arms. Clever, father. But not perfect. I need a target to hit in Topside. Something valuable to House Westmore, but isolated enough that it won’t cause a massive stir.”

“A false target. And I know just the one. But why?”

“Vogrin?”

Vogrin appeared beside Kilvius, mouth pursed in a snarl. “Are you certain you and your sister share the same blood?”

“Lord below,” Kilvius breathed, jolting at the sudden appearance.

“Yes.” I confirmed.

“Then I do not know what conclusions to draw.” Vogrin ranted. “It is a distinctive scent, one I would not miss, that carries a subtle stench of the divine.”

“You gave a demon your blood.” Kilvius observed dryly.

“They already have a hold on my soul, I don’t think blood is going to suddenly give them an edge.” I looked to Vogrin. “But stench of the divine? That’s news to me.”

My demon groaned. “Don’t get full of yourself. It is not uncommon for royal families to have some degree of divine meddling. Typically, too many generations up their family tree to make a difference. The gods are nothing if not amorous. But it is more rank and ergo more distinguishing than I am accustomed to. I would notice if I crossed her trail. And yet, nothing.”

“You can’t have searched all of Topside yet.” Kilvius said skeptically.

“Enough that I should have smelled something!”

I waved a hand. “Relax, you’re not here for that.”

Vogrin’s eyebrows shot upward and his tone turned sarcastic. “Oh! Have we simply moved on in my absence?”

There were a lot of factors in play. I needed to be careful with how I approached this. The legion made several mistakes in the early days of our pact, and to their credit, they had recognized those mistakes, and extended several courtesies to me to compensate. Offering Vogrin as a summon and use of the artifact I’d traded them chief among them.

Despite that, there was a sense that our standing as of late was approaching equal, and that they had repaid their debt in full. I wanted something from them. But I wanted it in a way that would widen that gap, rather than close it.

“Did I miss something? What is going on? Why is he smiling like that?” Vogrin asked Kilvius.

Kilvius shook his head. “From experience, you may want to stop floating before you fall down.”

“Vogrin.” I said carefully. “How would you like to tally a favor with your boss? One he’ll find particularly delightful.”

Almost immediately, Kilvius paled. “No.”

Vogrin was silent for a long moment. “By boss, you’re referring to…”

“Who else?”