XXVII | THE MASK OF PERFECTION
"Your majesty," Melantha said, dropping into a bow. She kept her head ducked, not quite meeting Zelphar's eyes. Celvene bowed as well, though she did not hold it, standing soon after. "I presume you received my message."
Message? When did she send anything?
"Indeed," Zelphar replied. His crimson eyes were crinkled with an emotion Celvene couldn't quite place. "And this was urgent?"
"As you've said in the past, our guests are to be treated with the utmost respect. Celvene wished to speak with you, so I did my best to grant her wish," Melantha said. Her head still had not raised. Celvene bit her lip, then looked up at Zelphar.
"Correct."
"So..."
The corners of Zelphar's mouth twitched, and he laid a hand against his jaw, leaning into it. "Was there a particular reason you wanted to see me, Celvene? I cannot imagine you changed your mind so quickly. You seem a stubborn girl."
Celvene's immediate response—I am—was replaced with a more soft, "I haven't, sir. But I would like to discuss your terms. I'm interested. I'm not quite committed."
She wasn't exactly sure why Melantha had made it seem like Celvene desperately wanted to meet with the king—if at all—but she wasn't going to waste breath complaining about it. Maybe she came across as more desperate than she thought she did.
This time, Zelphar's lips quirked upwards, a sight that relieved Celvene. If this was Aleksandr, she would've been belittled. "What exactly would you like to know?"
"What can you offer me, sir? How do I know I'm not better off obtaining the throne by myself?"
"As I understand it, your kind called my brother a king slayer.
They weren't quite right. He has, however, killed my brethren as a part of his bloody crusade: Misha, Passialco, and Azriel, three of the men I considered princes of Noriya.
We stopped him before he could go any further.
It was a well-deserved title, yes, but one that brought shame and disappointment unto my lands.
I am unsure of how Aizasea received it. Well, I would assume, but that is part of the reason Noriya feels so strongly against your lands. "
"Not everyone feels that way, though," Celvene said. "Just as Noriya has outliers who don't follow your... beliefs, Aizasea has those who disagree with the majority—or minority, in this case. I've never heard someone in Aizasea condone Virion's apparent killings."
"Perhaps not, but this war is proof enough that no one is innocent."
Celvene remained quiet.
"Regardless, that is not what you asked.
I was able to bless my brother with the ability to wield corruption magic.
To manipulate heartbeats, to control the pressure of the body, to turn itself inside out if powerful enough, among much more.
Corruption magic is a powerful thing, and it is so, so rare.
I do not let it fall into the wrong hands.
I discovered it centuries ago, and I made it my mission to be able to figure out how to grant its gift to others.
I gave it to Virion, and he used it to craft his sword. I could grant it to you, as well."
"Is that not risky? What if I use these powers against you?"
"I am not afraid to strike you down, Celvene," Zelphar replied, and judging by the flame flickering in his dark eyes, Celvene knew he was telling the truth. "I have the power to do so, and I will do whatever it takes to protect my lands."
Celvene frowned. "Okay." Her thoughts—Why did he not strike Virion down, then?—must have been obvious, because Zelphar sighed.
"Virion did not die by my hand, even if Aizasea has adopted a different narrative. I did not have a part in his death. I couldn't bring myself to face him, much less kill him. It is my greatest shame, and something I do not admit lightly. Not many know."
"What?" Melantha gaped beside Celvene, her mouth wide open. "Y-You never told..."
Zelphar's slitted eyes hardened, freezing into drops of ice. "Frinigari, were you granted permission to speak out of turn?"
"No," Melantha said, and her voice had returned to the feeble whisper Celvene had grown to hate. "My apologies, my king."
"Remind me of what you are, Melantha."
"A weapon."
"Precisely. A weapon. No more, no less. And weapons do not speak out of turn," Zelphar said, a sullen frown etched on his aged features.
What had happened to him between the last time Celvene had met him and now?
"I apologize, Celvene, but I must request that this meeting is cut short.
One of the other guards will escort you back to your room. I need to have a chat with Melantha."
"I'm not leaving," Celvene said, her voice cold and gaze even colder. Though she was small in such a large courtroom, she knew her presence was known, and that alone fueled her confidence.
She knew that Zelphar wouldn't kill her if she spoke against him—he was too interested in using her against Aleksandr, and they both knew that. And besides, who did he think he was speaking to Melantha that way? She would've been disappointed in herself if she didn't speak up.
"Melantha did nothing wrong," she continued. "I find it appalling the way you spoke to her. If this... if this is how you treat your subjects, then I'm not sure I can believe what you say. Or what you promise. I'd like to be proven wrong, and I don't mean to be rude, but—"
Zelphar clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sliver of a grin crawling onto his features. "I'll excuse you this one time, child, but do not test my patience again. You may be our guest, but you are not allowed to interfere or meddle with the affairs of this kingdom."
Before Celvene could protest, she was grabbed from behind.
Her first thought was to kick, or punch, or bite, but she quickly realized that was a fight she wouldn't win—and one she didn't want to start, regardless.
She needed to stay on Zelphar's good side, for the most part, and speaking out in such a manner already counted against her.
So she allowed herself to be dragged away, the heavy tip of a sword pressed against the square of her back as Melantha bowed her head even deeper.
???
Celvene's hands were bound once more. She hadn't bothered trying to free herself; she'd been stripped of everything on her, including anything that she could use as a lockpick. While she didn't know how to pick locks, it would've been nice to try.
She'd resigned to sitting on her bed, scuffing her feet against the marbled floor. Her mind had drifted to Melantha more than once, and she found herself worrying for the soldier's wellbeing.
Zelphar's mask of perfection had slipped—he'd shown himself to not be a flawless, merciful godly king who had the best interests of his subjects at heart.
Perhaps Melantha shouldn't have spoken out of turn, but the tone he'd adopted with her, as well as his hasty, nasty response made Celvene wonder.
But Celvene couldn't help but wonder if Zelphar could help her, despite all his imperfections.
If she believed anything he'd said, it was that he'd given Virion his powers that apparently included the ability to manipulate blood.
In all of Celvene's spotty education, she'd only heard of corruption magic once.
Its origins were unknown, but it was considered the most powerful type of magic, and by far the most dangerous.
When someone was educated enough to know of its existence, they would not speak of it; the very subject was considered taboo on Fellstride, as it was integral to the Kingdom of Conquest and Zelphar's lifeblood, and Celvene had a feeling that if the rest of the world knew how Zelphar was winning this war, they would not be so neutral in its affairs—unless it scared them further into submission.
Corruption magic had no master like the other schools. Its capabilities were all but unknown, and all that could be discovered of it was that it was passed down as a gift—or a curse, depending on how you viewed it.
So could Zelphar grant Celvene what he promised? And could it be the turning point in the war if she accepted? Or would she be resigning herself to a fate worse than Virion's if she was foolish enough to accept?
Maybe there's no harm in saying yes... either I die now, or I escape to Aizasea, and I'm thrown into a dingy cell for the rest of my life—or I just die there, too.
And if she agreed, he did imply he'd let Celvene go free...
But she didn't know if she wanted to leave Melantha behind.
Even under the years of frustration and hatred she'd fostered towards Melantha, there was the unwavering sense of love she held for the soldier.
It hadn't dulled; it had only been overshadowed by more powerful emotions.
And now that she was finally starting to see through the thick veil of smoke that had clouded her mind whenever she thought of Melantha. ..
She shook her head. Now wasn't the time to worry about Melantha; it was the time to decide how to act. Could she somehow break her chains? No. Even if she was successful, she was defenseless and her natural stealth could only take her so far.
She was weaponless, and she had no runespowder. She was surrounded by ruthless killers—they'd sniff her out five seconds after she slipped out from between the bars.
Perhaps she could convince a guard to free her and help her escape.
But what could she offer them? Mercy? She knew damn well that she had no say in the clemency Aizasea offered.
If Aleksandr wanted to kill Noriya's soldiers, she couldn't do anything except protest in a feeble voice that would make the brute snicker.
And realistically, to survive, Aizasea had to slaughter Noriya.
But Celvene would kill for her city if need be. Though it would be hard to stomach, she wanted to see the people of her city prosper and thrive in a kingdom not plagued by war and famine.
She knew she could be the one to bring that change—even if she was inexperienced, she knew exactly what the city needed, thanks to her status as a struggling everyday citizen.
And though she knew not every citizen believed in her, she intended to change their minds.
She'd already rocked Aizasea, taking it by surprise by not giving up, even if it was just by worming her way into the heart of the castle. She'd seen the headlines.
Hanging her head, she wrapped her hands together, staring at the ground. She needed to get out of this somehow, but she didn't know how; all she knew was that she needed to escape and return to Aizasea. She didn't know how she was going to get out of this.
And for Aleksandr to be Melantha's father felt like another blow in the face.
First, after meeting the girl for the first time in years, Celvene discovered she works for the enemy who is hellbent on destroying Celvene's city and all of its inhabitants.
Then Melantha's father, who Celvene had never had the misfortune to meet, is the very man trying to strip Celvene of her right to the throne.
Celvene wondered if this would have panned out differently if she'd ever met Aleksandr as a child.
Melantha had told Celvene her parents were too busy to meet her, or their home wasn't tidied, or she was alone because her parents had departed on a business trip—anything to keep Celvene out of the house.
With Aleksandr as a father, though, Celvene couldn't even blame Melantha if she was making up lies to keep Celvene from meeting such a wretched man. She couldn't blame much of Melantha's behavior on her at all, really; she could only blame how Melantha would choose to better herself.
And even if she was able to get out of this, she wasn't sure how she'd recover from her fall from grace in Aizasea. If everyone in Noriya besides Melantha believed in a false fantasy, who was to say the people of Aizasea weren't following suit and believing lies Virion had paved while he was king?