2. Chapter Two #2
He tried to bask in the feeling of being home, of having a family bigger than ever, but he couldn’t cease the somber thoughts of how he could lose all of them in one fell swoop, especially if they learned the truth of all he had done.
He cleared his throat. “Why the surprise visit?”
“I had to see if you received one as well.” Charmaine thrust the letters toward his gloved hands. He recognized the matching insignias on the back of the envelopes, the open one addressed to her and the other to him. “An invitation from His Majesty,” she whispered.
William desired no invitation from King Ellis, lest it was an invitation to his beheading.
Robert Vandervult, his father, dared to call the king out for what he truly was; greedy.
King Ellis punished the Vandervult family by sending William, their youngest, to war.
All of his suffering had been because of a bastard who took offense to being told about his cruelty.
His family’s suffering was due to the king’s overly inflated ego, his desire to show the Vandervult family how easily he could destroy them.
“A ball to celebrate Nicholas Darkmoon,” he said after reading over the invitation. The name tasted of poison on his tongue, acidic and sour.
He tried forgetting the destructive smile and sly words he foolishly fell for, words he dared to believe hadn’t been warped to toy with him, but nothing eased the loss of Nicholas. He would never forget because one could not touch another’s soul and disappear without leaving a scar.
“What foolishness is this?” He dropped the letter into Charmaine’s awaiting hands. “Fearworn has been dead for two years. The king celebrated more than once already.”
He would know, having been forced to attend the balls where he spent most of the evening spitting up in the toilets.
Charmaine’s hands clenched at her waist where her letter wrinkled between her fingers.
“He did, but the Darkmoons continued the search for Fearworn’s remaining disciples after his demise.
Rumors say Nicholas has been battling shadowed disciples and helping set up monitoring stations around shimmers until anyone learns how to close them permanently.
Now the kings of Terra wish to throw a grand affair, probably to thank the Darkmoon family specifically, since they were such a force. ”
“Heard all this from the girls, did you?” he asked.
“Our customers love to gossip during fitting sessions. They act like we aren’t even there.
” She glared down at her letter. “I received my invitation this morning. After work, I hurried to your home, but you were not there. Lord Vandervult kindly gave me the letter. I assumed it was the same, but wanted to make sure.”
“This is an affair neither of us can decline?”
“Seems so,” she muttered.
He shredded a piece of paper, twirling the thin sheet between his fingers. “If he wishes to thank us, he should do that by leaving us alone. This will dig up bad memories for everyone.”
“I don’t disagree, but we both know the kings cannot fathom our turmoil, nor do they care. We shouldn’t have to stay long, at least.”
That didn’t matter because Nicholas would be there, and William could not avoid him.
Over the years, he imagined a reunion where he could speak his mind.
Each word he threw at Nicholas became crueler than the last. But every vision ended with Nicholas laughing because William knew nothing he said would ever matter.
He was another mortal upset he fell for obvious tricks.
Surely, Nicholas had a long list and his name meant nothing, another forgotten conquest.
Charmaine grasped his left arm. “This could be an excellent opportunity to speak with Nicholas.”
He tossed the shreds of paper into a nearby basket. “I have nothing to say to him.”
“But you have much to ask.”
“And if I dare to ask, he will find every path to tear me apart. Fuck him, and fuck the king.” His furious gaze caught on the list of missing patients. His fury settled, little more than the usual spark at the back of his mind. “Wait… we could make this work to our advantage.”
She released him. “How so?”
“I will have direct access to the king. Another patient is missing, Charmaine. That is seven now.”
She grabbed the list from his desk. Her lips pressed into a grim line.
He gathered what little information he had on the missing patients. “I can take all of this with us to share with His Majesty at the ball.”
“What makes you think he’ll care about missing homeless people? The horrid conditions of the workhouses say exactly what he thinks of anyone outside his social circle,” she countered.
“I do not believe he will, but that won’t stop the guests from caring. If he is heard denying such charity, there will be gossip, even from those who don’t necessarily care. He will want to save face and we need all the help we can get.”
Because William did not know what they were dealing with, but his gut told him to be weary.
A doctor of the mind that he spoke with called this extreme paranoia, a remnant from the war that caused him to check rooms for the quickest exit and assess situations like a battle.
He worried about noises in the night that were nothing more than creaking stairs or swore he saw monsters perched along the treeline at the estate.
Simply paranoia , the doctor said, the term utterly foreign to his ears, but that time, he was certain he caught onto genuine horror.
“I fear you underestimate him, William. Gossip is the language His Majesty speaks best.” Richard, William’s elder brother, stood in the doorway, his heavy-lidded brown eyes settled with worry.
He sauntered into the room. His normally laughing mouth descended into a grimace.
“I apologize for overhearing, but to my credit, neither of you knows what a whisper is. Another patient has gone missing, correct?”
A flare of concern ignited in William’s belly. “Yes.”
“That makes seven, if I recall correctly,” said Richard.
“You say that as if you have ever recalled anything incorrectly.”
“One needs a good memory in my line of work.” Richard held out his hand in a silent request to see what William had.
He hesitated. That flare of concern roared. His family shouldn’t get involved. Danger lurked in the city of Alogan, after all the years he spent fighting to protect them. Monsters may have found them at their home.
“William,” Richard encouraged, his voice so serene, unlike Williams’ rattled mind.
His brother wouldn’t relent, so he gave in.
Richard read through what little they had, then spoke plainly, “This wasn’t enough to warrant an investigation from the authorities and it will not be enough for His Majesty. ”
“We have to try,” said William.
“Of course we do, so long as the two of you are up for it.” A self-confident smirk painted Richard’s features. “This tale needs a little embellishing.”
“You want us to lie?”
“Embellish,” Richard corrected. “Nobles love a good story, an epic, a tragedy, a way to get their cold little hearts racing.”
Rage joined William’s concern, boiling at the base of his neck. “I’m not turning my patients’ tragedies into a night of entertainment.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
Richard Vandervult could convince the Souls to reconsider their judgments.
His charisma manifested through blinding smiles, suave words, and enthusiastic interest. After a minute, he could make one believe they had known him since childhood.
He excelled at their charity ventures for that very reason.
William found his tactics two-faced, but the best way to survive palace life was through the game of lies. Very few played that game as well as Richard, and he was offering to play the game in William’s stead.
“It feels wrong,” he whispered.
“It is wrong.” Richard faced the window where he watched the floor below. “These people shouldn’t be clinging to life here. The king shouldn’t be forcing soldiers to this damned ball. I shouldn’t have to fake smiles and laughter for charity. Alas, life is not fair, but it is malleable.”
He looked at Charmaine for guidance. She had as little answers as he, as much fear, too. He saw it in her eyes. If he accepted, she would stand beside him, and that eased the discomfort weighing heavy on his chest.
His shoulders deflated. “What tale will you spin?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Richard tapped the papers on the desk. “I trust you will let me hold on to these?”
He nodded.
“Good. We’ll speak more when I have an idea in mind. For now, it is time to head home. Mother is worried.”
“I told him she would be,” said Charmaine. He shot her a look.
“Come, you must sleep in your own bed tonight and, most importantly, take a bath,” Richard ordered.
William curled his nose. “What are you implying?”
Richard stalked around the desk to grasp him by the hem of his coat. “You stink. Our niece shouldn’t be forced to tolerate this.”
Richard’s knuckles brushed his right arm. He put space between them. Richard pretended the action wasn’t odd.
“Alice is there?” he asked.
“She is staying the night and refuses to sleep without a story from Uncle William. I trust you won’t disappoint her?”
Charmaine giggled. Richard got his way because William’s niece was his greatest weakness. Alice had a light in her he hoped would never be snuffed out, that he would protect at all costs. He already did, barely six months after he returned, and she clung to him ever since.
“No, I wouldn’t do that. Take my carriage home, Charmaine. I’ll ride with my brother,” he said.
Charmaine nodded, then giggled when Richard took her hand to give her an unexpected spin followed by a hug.
“It is always a pleasure to see you, My Lady,” he said.
Donning a precious grin, Charmaine said her goodbyes, then descended the stairs.
No one asked about her, not even Henry, who had seen her with William on the battlefield.
He was grateful, and hopeful his family would understand one day should he ever bring a man home, if that was possible.
He lost Hugh in the war, a man he believed he could love until the end of his days.
He sent Hugh’s family flowers every month, anonymously.
It was the least he could do. Then he lost Nicholas, the fae tricking him since day one.
He wasn’t doing well romantically and couldn’t imagine that ever changing.
Not with the way he was, with how his body had become or how broken his mind was.
“Sleeping on that couch is no good for you,” Richard lectured on their way down the stairs.
“I’ve slept in worse conditions,” he said bitterly.
“But you’re home now, in better conditions. You need to take care of yourself.”
He was trying, truly, but he wasn’t sure how to care for himself anymore. Nothing worked, not even being home.