Chapter 52 Generational Ties #3
“We’ve heard great things of the impressive work you’ve done with your country. It puts Demechnef to shame.” Niklaus doesn’t let his serious expression falter. If only these two tyrants knew the future leader of Demechnef was playing them for a fool.
“Yes, well, who can fault you for that? Demechnef has the government of hormonal menstruating woman,” Malcolm muses.
“Orin and Abraham should have been put to death in Alkadon, not for treason, but for having these beliefs that are nothing more than laughable,” Maxwell agrees.
“You can imagine how difficult it is to desire citizenship from the inside of your prison.” Niklaus swishes the last sip of his drink around in his cup, then finishes it off. “Which is why we desire to be released as soon as possible.”
The dim, muggy room is a bed of stagnant water as the brothers contemplate the request. They stare at us, silently weighing their options.
“I will give your wife a choice, as she has claimed to be a witch.” Maxwell leans forward in his chair.
“You can either spend three nights and three days in my bed chamber so that I may sire Mazonist heirs. Your eyes are very interesting. Perhaps if I impregnate you, our children will have similar eyes…” he trails off topic.
Niklaus stands abruptly.
I’m going to hurl. “And the other option?”
“You can spend those three days in my prison, proving you are a real witch. I would release you and your beloved husband from prison and offer you employment.” Maxwell shifts his weight and looks to his brother. “I’ve never had a witch work for me before.”
Malcolm lifts his fluffy eyebrows. “Just as you’ve never impregnated one either.”
The three men laugh again, as though I am not sitting in front of them. As though Niklaus isn’t standing with balled fists despite the enormous guardian in the room taking cautious steps toward him.
“No one will be impregnating my wife,” Niklaus states with a growl.
“Oh? A Mazonist ruler may impregnate whomever he pleases.”
Niklaus curls his hand around his collar.
“I’ll prove I’m a witch. Three days. That’ll work!” I interrupt, rising from my chair to get Niklaus’s attention and try to keep him from getting killed.
Maxwell frowns, looking a bit disappointed. He drums his fingers along the table in thought. And I know he’s debating whether or not just to choose to have me in his bed, if only to put Niklaus in his place.
“I am barren, so impregnation isn’t even an option. But I am a very powerful witch and would be very useful to the Mazonist legacy,” I add, but Crow Ivast flips through pages of a book in my periphery, and something buzzes in my core as I recognize the cover.
There has never been much information about Vexamen history in our lessons growing up, but Aunt Ruth and Uncle Warrose shared much of what they knew.
They told us all about how Crow Ivast uncovered the original human experiments on twins.
How he migrated with the rest of the Mazonist followers from Alkadon and was seen as a psychologically impaired freak there for talking to himself in public and having inherently maniacal ideas to expand the mind.
And there was a book where he wrote down all of his trials, tests, and…chemical warfare archives.
In other words, the injection Masten and Kaspias used to put my father in his coma.
Aunt Ruth found the details of the neurotoxin that was used.
Crow Ivast named it Díevetz Alkadon Agent.
Which translates to, Death to Alkadon. He planned to use it on the royal families there so that they would be unable to sire any additions to their bloodlines, but fell ill when his son, Cardinal Ivast was just a child.
Crow knew how important his book, known as the Ivast Codex, was to his enemies.
He burned every page that had an antidote, counteragent, neutralizer, or remedy to his creations.
Aunt Ruth and Uncle Warrose scoured every archive in Vexamen existence.
Crow Ivast had a brilliant mind and ensured those secret remedies would die with him. Ultimately keeping my father in his coma for twenty-one years thus far.
Yet here he is. With that highly sought after book. Right in front of me. Can I live with myself if I leave this room without even attempting to know how to wake my father when I come back?
“But if it appeases you all, I do have a way of proving my powers can collect intimate details on complete strangers. Shall I demonstrate?” My voice shakes. This is a long shot. It holds great potential to break my heart. But I’m going for it.
“Oh, we do love magic tricks,” Malcolm hums.
“Crow Ivast, there were spirits whispering your name as we speak. They’ve shared many secrets. May I share a few?”
Crow sighs, waving his hand for me to continue, as though he finds this entire charade a waste of time.
“Your wife’s name is Absinthe. She is an incredibly religious woman.”
The men chuckle, looking unimpressed.
“Not a secret,” Crow comments with a slow blink. “Anyone who’s been in the same room as my bride knows this.”
I smile sheepishly. “And that you’ve had many affairs? Had two bastard children that you had killed? Fell in love with a woman twice your age who mysteriously disappeared? Is that all common knowledge as well?”
I’ve never been so thankful that I paid attention in this part of our history lessons.
The Mazonist Brothers gape at me in shock, then back to Crow.
“This all true?” they ask.
Crow is positively stunned. His oily brows pull tight together, then lift to his hairline.
“Yes. It is true.”
“And I’m also hearing how you created a neurotoxin that can put a person in a coma once they have sexual intercourse. That’s impressive.” I hold my breath and hope my inquiry isn’t too on the nose and obvious that I’m fishing.
Crow’s upper lip twitched, then curls into a mocking half-smile.
“I haven’t even completed the formula and equations for that yet. It’s all theory.”
“Well, you will.” A twinge of hatred burns my forehead and cheeks. “But…it looks like you always have an antidote, except this one. I suppose this one was too complex for you to form a solution to.”
“Absurd!” Crow stands, slicking his stray hairs away from his face nervously. “Yes, it is complex. All of my chemical agents are. But I’ve already mapped out the only antidote that could reverse the effects of the neurotoxin before it is activated by consummation!”
“The spirits say you don’t have a clue, actually.”
“Wrong! There is a cluster of trees that only grow in Dementia. The leaves hold rare properties that, if boiled and consumed before intercourse, would prevent the victim from falling into a coma.”
My heart races. “And what are these trees called?”
“It’s said a great dragon died there. It’s called The Red Oaks.”
I could drop to my knees in tears. All this time. The answer was among the trees that surrounds our home. The fiery red leaves that would fall around my parents when they were children, sprinkling across the ground they’d play on.
But I must keep my composure.
“Drinking the tea made of red oak leaves would cure such a powerful neurotoxin?” I ask skeptically.
“Yes. You’ve raised my blood pressure with this debate. It’s like explaining astrology to an infant.”
“Hmm.” I nod with only a sliver of interest in the topic.
Maxwell angles himself to a more comfortable position in his chair. “You two lost me at all of your neuro-nonsense topics. It’s a decent start, my beautiful prisoner.”
I sigh. “Three days then?”
The brothers come to a firm agreement, then continue conversing and playing chess like we are not there, and then we are sent back to our cages until the House of Jester Night commences.
Niklaus walks the entire way back in silence. Even as we sit against the chipped, dented bars of our cages, he cranks his neck back and closes his eyes.
“There’s so much to unpack,” I murmur, breaking the ice. Our situation isn’t great, but it feels relieving to be away from the other inmates for the day.
“Mmm hmm.”
“So, we’re what? Over fifty years in the past?” I prompt.
“Sixty or seventy, I’m guessing.”
“And we’re here distinctly by the anchor of my grandparents.”
“Let’s go back. You said you dreamed my dad was in The Blackspire Ward of The North?” Niklaus does move, not even to breathe as he waits for my response.
“Yeah.”
“And Krimson saw you?”
“I think he was searching for me,” I say.
“If he knows you’re missing, he would have gotten your mother involved. By now, the rest of the family must know,” Niklaus contemplates in a hushed, gravelly voice.
“And he saw where Uncle Niles was. He’d relay that to my mother.”
Niklaus nods. “Good.”
I peek over at him and can’t help but trail over his bare chest and the prominent muscles over his strong arms. Does he want to stop talking and sleep? He’s so uninterested, I feel like a grating little pest for wanting to keep talking.
He speaks again. “Three days here, little witch?”
I sigh. “That or I could’ve gotten comfy in his bed chamber.”
Niklaus growls in the base of his throat.
“Of course I’d never do that. I’m a devoted, faithful wife.”
“That a fact?” Niklaus smirks but keeps his eyes closed.
“Yes, it is.”
“I didn’t want you to have to bear being married to me another moment after the situation called for that title here…the way it did in the last predicament we were in,” he explains.
I shake my head and look down. “It isn’t the worst thing.”
Although, it sort of is. I can’t stand the way my lungs are zapped with excitement when he calls me his wife. If only he knew my body reacts this aggressively. There would never be a day I’d live it down.
“I bet your future wife will hate me for our illegitimate marriage once we make it home.” I lean against the bars we share between our cages.
“And is there a man back at home you’ll hope to tie the knot with?” he asks, though the boredom layering his tone is heavy today.
“Your best friend, Stark.”
Niklaus’s eyes snap open. He grimaces at me from the corner of his eye.
I wink.