Chapter Thirteen
Milo
I’d read the same passage three times now and could have sworn it didn’t make any sense. Perhaps it was my exhaustion causing the words to swim in a blurry haze in front of me. Then again, I was reading the words of a madman so they very likely were incomprehensible.
I glanced out at the deep night sky beyond the window of my study.
Pax and Olympia should have been back by now.
I wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that they weren’t.
It had been a last minute decision to include Paxon on the knowledge seeking expedition to the House of Harlowe but I was glad I had.
If only Olympia had gone, I’d be sitting here right now wondering if she’d done something regrettable or simply forgotten to update me.
With Pax at her side, at least I knew she was staying on task.
Even if it was a task I hadn’t anticipated would take nearly this long.
I glanced back down at the journal on my desk and yawned.
Rising from my chair, I stretched my arms over my head and paced to the window.
Without meaning to, I found myself watching the gate, waiting for any sign that Pax and Olympia had returned.
I could feel my anxiety worsening with every hour they were gone.
You're still awake, aren’t you?
I froze. My eyes were still set on the gate, arms crossed as I frowned down at the courtyard, but I was far more alert than I’d been a moment ago, more awake. Isla.
Of course I am, I replied.
It was easier now that it was acceptable. We would be engaged soon enough. I had no reason to suspect Raghnall would reject my offer. That meant we were free to use this form of communication again. Why, then, did it feel so strange to do so?
Why are you awake? I asked.
I have a lot on my mind lately, she replied a moment later, sarcasm thick in her tone. It keeps me up.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I turned away from the window and made my way to the decanter behind my desk where I poured a glass of whiskey. I’d finally gotten the acolytes to replace Nascha’s preferred wine with my whiskey. The study was mine in all but name now anyway.
I didn’t ask to be Heir, Isla finally said after a long pause.
I set the decanter down and lifted the glass, swirling the brown liquid as I settled back into my seat and kicked my feet up on the desk beside the journal. I’d known this conversation was coming. I’d been waiting for it. I was only surprised it had taken Isla so long to reach out.
But you should be, I replied. You care more about your House than anyone else in it.
To be fair, you don’t know Luca very well.
I know he was paired with Olympia. I love my cousin dearly but she isn’t meant to lead.
And we are?
I hesitated, glass poised just before my lips. Then I drank deeply.
I guess we’ll see, I told her.
If my grandfather accepts your insane terms, she countered.
I grinned into my glass and replied confidently.
He will.
The shrill squeak of the gate drew my attention away from Isla.
Pulling the glass away from my lips and severing our connection, I squinted into the dark in an effort to make out the shape striding briskly through the garden.
It wasn’t until he reached the light streaming out from the entry that I recognized Pax.
Turning, I set my glass down and closed the journal.
Trying not to ruminate too long on why he was alone, I waited.
It only took a few moments before Pax knocked on my door and I called out for him to enter. He closed the it tightly behind him before approaching me with a frown. I glanced down at his hands to find one single sheet of paper clutched within them.
“Well?” I asked, impatiently.
Without a word, he thrust the piece of paper out toward me.
I took it, maintaining eye contact with him while I did, until I had it in my hand.
I read the letter three times, shock seeping into me more and more with every repetition.
This was him. This was the real Eximius, the one the madness took and left without a trace, and this was why.
“The journal?” I asked, looking back up at Pax.
“The House of Harlowe has it and they won’t give it up,” Pax explained with a frown.
“Jude said we were welcome to come and read it there. Olympia and I negotiated for permission to send an acolyte to copy the whole thing, word for word, so it can be studied. He agreed on the condition that one of us must always be with the acolyte.”
“Good,” I said and stood. “I’ll go read through it now. There are some inconsistencies in the journal I have that I’d like cleared up. I think if I can–”
“Sir,” Paxon interrupted me. He moved to the side to block my path toward the door.
My brow wrinkled as I frowned at him, caught off guard.
“Olympia and I both agreed it would be best if you aren’t seen on the lower rings for awhile.
It’s unusual as it is but, after allowing the Bexleys full visitation rights to a Major House and now this new arrangement with a Minor House to share our family history–”
“You doubt my decisions?”
“We feel it would be best if you took a step back, just a bit, and let us handle the lower level issues. I will go with an acolyte of your choice every day and sit with them while they copy the journal. I will bring the day’s copy to you every evening for review.”
“I could just go and read it now,” I argued, frustrated.
“Appearances matter, Sir,” Paxon reminded me. “Especially now. With Cosmo acting the way he is, we can’t afford to upset the balance.”
I watched my cousin, warily. He was more right than he knew. Reluctantly, I relented.
“Fine,” I replied, shoulders slumping. “But I want updates every evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is Olympia?”
“She said grandmother gave her another task this evening.”
I nodded. Knowing Olympia and my grandmother, that was as much of an explanation as I could expect.
“It didn’t take you all day to copy this letter,” I said, waving the piece of paper in the air as I headed back to my desk and settled in again. “So you read the journal.”
“Some of it,” Pax answered.
“And?”
“The early pages were all standard patriarch records. He talked about resource allocation, Upper Ring infighting, politics and marriages. He was meticulous. Olympia and I skipped past a lot of detail. He was only a few years into his reign when he started hearing the voice. He thought it was one of the Geist communicating with him again like they were rumored to have communicated with our ancestors. He considered himself a chosen prophet, became pious, and started praying all the time. His family noticed the change but, as there didn’t seem to be an advantage for them in it, mostly ignored it.
After a while, the voice started giving him commands.
That’s the first time he questioned it.”
“What sort of commands?”
“Strange ones. Things that didn’t seem to matter all that much.
Go here at this time, eat that, sit there, just little things that didn’t seem to alter anything at all.
Then they started getting more detailed, more complex, and he started to really doubt that the voice in his head was anything divine.
He started to believe he was going insane. ”
I folded my hands and rested my chin atop them as I lost myself in contemplation.
A man who believed he was hearing commands from the gods suddenly starts to doubt their intentions.
It went against everything I’d ever learned about our ancestors who, for all intents and purposes, had seemed to always follow any orders perceived to have come from the gods without hesitation.
“That was all we had time to read before they kicked us out because it was getting too late,” Pax finished.
“I informed Jude I’d be back first thing in the morning with an acolyte in tow.
Olympia told me to go ahead because she had things to take care of for grandmother anyway, but I wanted to seek your permission as well. ”
I was already nodding before he finished, still lost in thought regarding the idea of a man who’d been fully conscious of his mind slipping as he descended into madness.
How utterly terrifying it must have been, knowing you were going insane but being unable to stop it, hearing a voice in your mind which claimed to be a deity.
I wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation of hearing another’s voice in my mind.
No one who completed the First Trial was.
I wasn’t sure of Eximius’ record in the trials but almost every First Ringer passed the First which meant he was likely aware of the sensation as well.
But this had been entirely different. How?
Paxon left while I pondered the matter. I hardly noticed he was gone until the door clicked shut behind him and my eyes darted up to the wood panelling.
Grandfather wants a symbolic wedding, Isla’s voice entered my mind again in a way that was becoming alarmingly unobtrusive. The morning of the Culling.
I blew out a breath and closed my eyes.
He agreed, I replied. It wasn’t a question. I knew he would.
I hope you’re a better husband than you are a Trials partner, Milo.