(continued from Part XXV | Act I | Act II | Part XXVII)
"...And then we worked everything out. When Lady Katerinannora comes back next month you'll be able to pick up right where you left off. I'll take care of the rest."
The Prince listened silently. He'd been slowly making his way forward, from his bed to his desk, the entire time Lou had been retelling the events of the night before. With the speed at which he'd been dragging his feet forward, the stone floor of his chambers may as well have been made out of mud. But just as Lou's story ended, so too did the Prince's journey; he finally let his full weight come crashing down onto the chair, one arm resting on the paper-strewn surface of the desk, the other hooked around the backrest.
She looked at him expectantly, a faint smile on her lips as he raised his head to make eye contact.
"That was you," he said, dumbfounded.
"That was me," Lou replied.
"...You're saying it's not over?"
"Nothing's lost yet." Lou broke into a self-satisfied grin as she held the red dress up in front of her, looking at her reflection in the standing mirror. "Did you like my performance? You recognized me right at the end there, but I guess you were too drunk to remember."
The Prince shook his head, reaching up to rub his temples. "I don't get drunk."
She laughed. "You absolutely did! I'm impressed. But to be fair, you had a lot of wine."
WHAM!
Lou stopped. She looked over at the spot where the Prince had slammed his hand on the desk, the impact making a few loose sheets of paper take momentary flight. He was staring daggers at her through the meager gaps in his thick mass of dishevelled hair.
"I asked you," he said. "I asked you many times. I saw you drink with the lieutenants, year after year, outlasting every single one. You told me you never got drunk."
She looked at him as emotions swirled within her, each one fighting for dominance; in the end, concern won out. "I told you the truth," she answered, exhaling the breath she'd been holding in without realizing it. "I knew my limits. They were high, but they were there." She gave him a joyless smile. "I always made sure not to push that one, even when I wanted to. I had a job to do."
His demeanor softened; so did hers.
"Hm."
Lou folded the dress in her hands with great care, putting the garment down on the corner of the bed, near the serving tray. "Maybe it's a matter of drinking enough water?" she mused aloud as she picked up the carafe from the tray and brought it over to the desk. "That's one lesson my mother made sure I'd never forget," she added thoughtlessly before stopping in her tracks once again.
She turned her head to look at him, almost dreading the expression she expected to see on his face. But his mask had returned. His eyes—what could be seen of them through the curtains of unkempt hair—had been carefully stripped of emotion as he stared through the papers on his desk.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," she said softly, a knot growing deep inside her chest. She gently put the carafe down on one of the last remaining free spots on the desk.
"It's alright, Loulou. It's no longer a sore topic," the Prince replied, picking up one paper seemingly at random from the pile. He covered his mouth with the back of his free hand, attempting to clear his throat but having little success. "I forget if we even discussed it. Did they brief you about it in the guard?"
"No, our village got the news. Back when it happened." Lou walked over to the chamber's entrance as if by instinct, picking up the pile of fresh letters that someone had left on the table while she had been off making breakfast.
"Is that right?" the Prince asked in a raspy monotone, searching around under the papers for his quill. "Word traveled far, even back then. Did the messengers truly bother going that far north? Or was it musicians, merchants, perhaps? What did they say?"
Lou paused in her approach, leafing through the letters in her hand, both out of curiosity and to give the Prince time to decide whether or not he truly wanted to hear her answer. Sometimes his questions were just for the air, and not for the ears. Especially when it came to this topic.
"I'm curious, Loulou," he added, pulling the quill out from under a half-written memo and dipping it in the inkwell.
"They said La Pieuvre did it," Lou answered, choosing her words carefully. "That her crew sank their ship."
The Prince let out a dry chuckle, not even looking up from the letter he was signing. He let the quill's tip rest where it lay at the end of his signature, watching the remaining ink flow and pool around it. "Legends never truly go away, do they? Larger than life, larger even than death."
Lou stood there patiently, letters neatly stacked and held at her waist, heart beating away in her chest.
"They never found the ones responsible," the Prince finally said. "I had plenty of time to look. Plenty of time to think, from this big empty room." He folded up the letter, the still-wet ink blotting into the paper. "I could have let it destroy me, but I didn't. I learned from it. I needed to become stronger, so I did. Strong enough to take the throne..."
He reached into his shirt and pulled out his signet ring, staring into the reflections in the metal as it slowly twirled on its thin golden chain.
"Strong enough to give it up."
His other hand grabbed for the sealing candle, knocking it over. He stared at it, finding it unlit.
"Right." He sighed, and searched for a match. But Lou was prepared: she held one out, having already retrieved it from the shelf. "Thank you," the Prince said with a nod as he struck the tip against his palm.
He looked at the budding flame on the candle, waiting for the wax to melt, impatiently tapping his hand against his thigh. "So what happened after that?"
Lou blinked, a little lost. "After...?"
"After you spoke to the witch-mother. After you stood up from..." His hand stopped tapping. He glanced down at his leg. "I made you sit on my lap."
"You made me sit on your lap," Lou repeated, turning away to look at something else in the room. She settled on a random shelf. "I just figured that was a thing you did, and went with it," she added softly, her voice as steady as she could make it. "You know, stay in character and all that."
There was no immediate reply. The Prince picked up the carafe, water audibly sloshing as he drank directly from it again. Lou's eyes searched for a clean mug, but there were none close by.
"So," he said, putting the carafe down. "After you stood up. You said you worked everything out. What happened then?"
Lou shrugged. "We talked. She told me what I needed to know, and we came to an agreement. Lady Katerinannora's intimidating, but she can also be pretty reasonable." She was glad to return to this topic, feeling the tension slowly leave the air as her self-assurance returned.
"What's the agreement? What did you need to know?" he asked, leaning forward on his chair, making the wood creak.
Lou crossed the remaining distance to the desk and quickly leafed through the letters she was holding, handing one over to the Prince. "Here. Virgule wrote up the terms. All that's left is your signature and your seal."
The Prince grunted as he unfolded the piece of paper, his eyes quickly scanning the meticulous writing. "This doesn't explain anything. What about my witches?"
"I don't think they'd like you calling them that," Lou said with an amused chuff. "Njalbrenna and Maruszabelle are still here, don't worry."
He let out a long breath, weight visibly lifting from his shoulders as he did so. More of the Prince—the real one, the one Lou knew—was emerging from under the neglect of the previous weeks. His finger tapped the paper in front of him, on the final sentence before the signature line. "So what about your negotiations? The thing tapping into the ritual, making my enemies stronger, eating my city?"
"I'll take care of it," Lou said with a dutiful smile as she tidied up the side of the desk. It was easy to settle back into this cozy routine, fleeting as it was.
"That's it? You'll take care of it, just like that?"
She nodded.
"How?"
Lou she deposited the rest of the morning's letters on the open spot she'd created. "I can't tell you."
The Prince frowned. "Come on, Loulou. Did she say what it is? Did she give you a way to deal with it?"
Lou took a deep breath, her smile enduring somehow in spite of how much she wanted to break her silence. How much she wanted to share everything, to prepare together, to tackle this head-on like a team, like before. But he wasn't ready. She knew it now, just like she knew it the night before when she bargained under the full moon. The witch-mother had known it too. "I can't tell you."
He stared at her, a look of dawning comprehension taking over. "Don't tell me you—"
"I swore an oath," Lou said, her tone having suddenly turned firm.
The Prince groaned loudly as he let out a long, frustrated breath. He gritted his teeth. "I really wish you hadn't done that."
Lou steeled herself as she shrugged her shoulders. "My lips are sealed." She reached across the desk to gently lift the burning candle from its base. "Now for your letters."
The Prince slid the first letter over, his fingers pressing down on the paper hard enough to make the desk tremble. Lou gently dipped the candle above the fold, just long enough for the dripping wax to bind the paper together. Wrapping his hand around the long golden chain that hung loosely from his neck, the Prince leaned forward and pressed his signet ring into the wax, cementing the seal. The two of them did the same with the second letter, the process going a little more smoothly as the royal temper subsided.
"I'm surprised you didn't have it resized," Lou said as the Prince tucked the ring back into his shirt.
"I keep forgetting to." He looked at his hand, turning it over; splaying his fingers apart, drumming them in the air. "But this works just as well. Besides, these hands feel nice this way, unburdened. Maybe I'm not one for rings after all."
"You are doing a lot of work to get rid of a single piece of jewelry," Lou joked as she slid over the next letter that required the Prince's seal.
He chuckled. "I won't miss the crown," he said as he tapped his finger over the form in his hands. He dipped his quill, then signed the page. "I won't miss the paperwork, either. The hands do feel nice, but they're completely different. Do you know I had to re-learn how to write? The muscle memory was completely off. Took me days. I barely slept."
Lou nodded, finding herself struggling to breathe for an instant as a powerful twisting sensation took control inside her chest, almost knocking the wind out of her. "I remember," she said quietly. "I read your letter."
He shook his head. "I had to become an expert at forging my own signature, can you imagine? The entire nation would have ground to a halt otherwise. My own fault for putting so many checks and balances into place."
"Mm."
"So tell me, Loulou, why are you still—"
"Your Majesty!" a voice interrupted as the chamber door flew open and one of the Prince's advisors barged in—the pompous one, much to Lou's displeasure. She reflexively retreated into the background with her hands at her waist and her eyes on the floor.
The man stomped his way to the center of the room, his robes fluttering in his wake. "Good, good, you're alone. The temples haven't bothered you yet, have they? I insist you look at my proposal to enjoin the mayor to take action against the rampant crimes committed in the mist! Surely doubling the guards and adding lights will... will, ah..." The advisor trailed off.
Lou felt the man's eyes on her. She glanced up, as if by instinct, and was proven right instantly. He was looking right at her, growing more and more aghast with each passing second.
"You," the advisor said, visibly searching for his next words as he stepped closer, tilting his head to the side, his stare burrowing into her layer by layer. Mentally undressing her in a wholly new, yet equally uncomfortable manner. Lou straightened her back, clenched her fists, and matched his gaze.
— end of preview
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