From there on, Claribel guided her easily enough towards the Queen’s private quarters, finding the exact chambermaid with rich brown curls and a beauty spot under her eye she’d expected behind the exact doors that she must have frequented in the past.
‘Give me a moment, my lady,’ said the chambermaid – Abby, who apparently loved the name ‘Joan’ with a fervour and was going to name her non-existent daughter exactly that despite having no marriage offers to consider, but honestly, who cares? – as she scurried out to arrange the meeting. A moment turned into two, though barely long enough to study the wind and flame patterns on the doors and the irises on the indigo wallpaper. Then, ‘This way please, Her Majesty awaits.’
The doors closed behind her. Except it was not Rosalind who greeted them in the chamber. Instead, Leolin lounged on a bench lined with velvet cushions, goblet in hand.
‘Good evening, Lady Claribel. What a pleasure it is to see you tonight. I have just spent hours discussing what to do about Tristram,’ he said with a yawn, as if Tristram had never been one of his staunchest supporters and dearest friends. ‘One look at you has cleansed my eyes.’
So the king that Rosalind had sacrificed so much to put on the throne was not just a coward, but also a creep.
‘Have you come here to accept my proposal in person?’
~What…?~
‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand what you are proposing, Your Majesty.’
‘Oh, it’s simple, though having no brains isn’t always a bad thing. I thought your father would explain it to you, but if you want to come to me in the flesh, who’s to stop you? What I am proposing is a solution for our country’s growth after the Battle of Eirene. Think about it. Too many women. Too few men. What do we do?’
‘Stop killing more men?’
‘Ha!’ He took a step towards her, until she could breathe in the sour wine from his breath, until he was dangerously close. ‘War is inevitable. I’m talking about a harem. Want to set an example with me?’
Ari swallowed. Swallowing back her desire to slit his throat with his own dagger, which he’d left dangling unguarded from his belt.
~No, no, no, that’d be regicide,~ Claribel’s voice rang in her head, flat and tired. ~But to be honest, do your worst. Ugh. I’m tired, Ari. I’m so, so, tired. Why must everyone live like this, treading on water? Why must we spend so much time scheming and plotting against each other just to break to the surface? War is coming. I don’t know how to stop it. No one can stop it. So just kill that stupid king.~
Even so. Ari didn’t need to be an expert at politics in Claribel’s world to know that an assassination of the king by a powerful duchess’s daughter would move a kingdom farther from peace. His blood had to wait for another day; it was a matter of professional pride. But if he was to take another step towards her, she’d–
He took one more step towards her, threatening an unwanted touch. His unsteady feet left him ungrounded; his stance was wide open.
She placed her right hand on his chest with an open palm, drawing her thumb back into the knife-hand, shuto. Her left hand readied for a parry, and her feet fell, cat-like, into a habitual neko ashi under the gown. Summoning her best smile, she executed–
~Why can’t Ros see he’s an idiot? Why did she have to choose him?~
–a simple slap with the edge of her palm against his neck with all the strength in Claribel’s arm.
He crumpled with a satisfying thump against the floor, hitting the back of his head on the hard, stone floor. Brain damage was hardly a loss on a man like him. Ari waited, half hoping for blood to pool beneath his head – after all, that’d be a terrible accident – but all that awaited her was disappointment and Claribel’s incessant rambling.
~We were so hopeful back then. So stupid. We thought we could work together and change the world. We changed the world all right. But working together? Ha! By the way, what did you do to him? Is he dead?~
~What a shame…~
~Do you think if you strike at his head hard enough, he’d acquire a spirit from your world?~
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
~I have known him for six years. Not much has changed. There is a reason that Aquilon remained neutral during the Battle of Eirene. We refused to shed our people’s blood to put that on the throne.~ Claribel nudged Leolin’s body with her translucent foot. ~You want a go?~
Ari gave him a nudge in the ribs.
~I didn’t mean kick him while he’s down! Though that too. Why not. No, I was asking if you wanted to be king.~
~Great. Not wanting it is a good start.~
But a body was a body. Gingerly, Ari pressed her spirit into it.
It was like pressing into the cold, grey concrete that Claribel so wanted to bring into this world.
Not a match.
No point on dragging out this farce.
Ari mustered her best high-pitched scream, sending Sir Aurelius bursting through the door, now free from Lady Jehanne, and… Duke Aquilon bursting through the window.
How?
They were on the second floor.
‘Clary! Are you all right?’
‘His Majesty suddenly blacked out. I think he has had too much to drink. I tried to catch him, but alas, I was not strong enough,’ she said, trying to summon Claribel’s most pitiful expression.
But how? The limestone slabs that made up the palace walls were smoothed with mortar, and no conveniently-placed vines lined the outside. Carvings that would have served well as hand and footholds only decorated the top of the building.
She’d checked and dismissed the window as an escape route without a grapple and some rope, much less an entrance point.
Who the hell was this man? A mage who’d mastered flight?
~Father is not a mage.~
He took her in his arms, whispering, ‘You’re all right… You’re all right…’ Over and over again it went, like a mantra.
But. No. Claribel was not all right. She should have paid that more attention. The shiny veneer had fallen off, and behind it was a despondent lady partial to regicide. The two of them couldn’t count a full night’s sleep between them.
~Now, how am I going to find a way to talk to Ros alone…? To ask if she really did it. Not that anyone cares.~
The Queen’s chambermaid had wormed her way into the room too. Ari studied her out of the corner of her eye, finding no trace of guilt on her face, only a mild raise of the eyebrow that hinted at surprise.
~You mean Abby? Yes…?~
And Claribel was good at knowing people. The care that her own household staff had shown her was one piece of evidence among many on offer.
Because the answer was right there. That was a woman who hadn’t betrayed her mistress. Everything had happened as the Queen had intended. Rosalind had no intention of meeting Claribel.
Sir Aurelius attempted to clap her on the shoulder. If Duke Aquilon hadn’t brushed him off before she’d had to feel his touch, she’d have snapped his fingers backwards already.
Claribel’s anger flared again, feeding into Ari’s desire.
A Captain of the Royal Guards could easily die without setting off civil war. She’d have to tailor the nature of the accident to suit his crime. Car accidents were an Institute favourite. Ari had donned the full body armour three times, hauling herself onto the driver’s seat of a truck carrying nothing but solid metal. Nothing to crumple. Nothing to absorb the shock. Would it work with horses and wagons?
No.
No, not the horses. How could she even imagine harming Steps?
~It’s not him. It’s Ros. Ros did this. She… Her Majesty… Oh, who cares about proper titles? She has not acted properly towards me, and you call her Rosalind anyhow. She did this.~
Harder to solve then. She couldn’t assassinate the queen. Could she?
No, no, no.
Ari was not in the right state of mind, to have given it any thought at all.
And those who were not in the right mind on a mission, those who ignored the niggles because they weren’t alarm bells, those who pushed through those thoughts and patted themselves on the back with the words ‘courage’, ‘resilience’ and ‘perseverance’, when Ari had time after her morning routine, she’d lay daisy chains on their graves in spring. She couldn’t remember their names, even though they’d been to school together. Or maybe she just didn’t want to.
How far had she come this evening? How many suboptimal decisions had she made?
‘Backwards review: a meditation you should complete each and every day before bed.’ Mrs Hart’s ruler struck her palm: a slap, slap, slap, like the tick, tick, tick of a clock, rewind, rewind, rewind. ‘An evening of errors, a day of disasters, a morning of mistakes. Back we go, back, back, back, to the very beginning. And tomorrow, we start again, and you think you will do better. But why, why, why, don’t you? Ever. Do. Better.’
Leolin, unblinking, on the uncarpeted chamber floor. Back, back. Sir Edwin, bewildered, on the spoiled solar floor. Bad decisions. Bad decisions all around. Why did you escalate, Ari Lee? Yes, you won. So what? Talk first, strike later. Why can’t you be a bit more like Maximilion Martin? Hmmm?
‘Mrs Hart, please don’t use me as an example to tell off Ari. She’s good at plenty of stuff. None of us are going to be good at everything. That’s why we’ll be operating in teams.’
‘Did I ask for your opinion?’
‘You said I’m good at talking. So that’s what I’m doing.’
Ari choked back the sound of his voice, once so gentle and sure, her anchor. Back, back.
Beatrice’s lifeless body blended into Tristram’s. One by one, the bodies piled up, faceless, nameless, like they should be. Except at the very top, Cain sat, bound to a chair. The rope she’d bound around his arms and legs bit into his flesh, dragging lines of red across his skin. Not tight enough. She flicked on the lighter and let the knife pierce his chest, cauterising the wound as she went. Just as he had ripped out her heart, she would rip out his. And it would be... would be… Back, back. It wouldn’t be... She could never be…
‘Enough. Ari, it’s enough. You’re enough.’
She turned to Duke Aquilon. This time, she didn’t have to fake the tremor in her voice.
Mayday. M’aidez.
‘Father, I want to go home.’
The last decision she’d make tonight.
Wordlessly, he swept her up in his arms, as if she was still a child, like no father had ever done for her before.