Chapter 53: The Grand Duke Meets the Crown Prince at Night (3)

Something in me simply became very still as I remembered certain lines.

Borrowed voices.

The dead call sweetly.

The worthy vessel answers when called.

I smiled slowly, "I see."

The Crown Prince looked at me and seemed to understand from my expression that the matter was worse than before.

"What is it?"

"Your Highness, I believe your childhood caretakers were either fools, traitors, or both."

His mouth tightened. "Explain."

"The chapel records mention children being assessed for spiritual compatibility and vessel potential. The old fragments in the lower vault mention entities with borrowed voices and warnings not to answer when called. You were told as a child to answer a voice calling your name."

I let the words settle. The Crown Prince’s face hardened.

"Are you saying they used me?"

"I am saying someone tried to do so."

"And succeeded?"

"Partly."

His hand moved unconsciously to his wrist.

"Can it still be removed?"

"I do not know yet."

He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the prince had returned. Not the boy or the frightened patient, but the heir to an empire.

"What do you need?"

I smirked.

"Records first," I said. "Records of all the rites performed on you, all the physicians involved., and all the temple officials present. I need anything connected to Caldus and Marcellus. Also, I need access to your residence wards."

He hesitated, brows furrowing.

"Why?"

"Because if your mark is being suppressed, the wards may be preventing it from worsening. But it could also be hiding it. Or feeding it."

His eyes darkened.

"You suspect my room may be part of the problem."

"I suspect everything."

"Even me?"

"Especially you."

He stared then nodded in understanding.

"Fair."

I did not expect that answer. Perhaps he was learning indeed.

"Will you tell my mother?" he asked.

"No, not yet. She doesn’t need to know yet."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see what she does when she realizes I know enough to be dangerous but not enough to be predictable."

The Crown Prince looked at me with an expression approaching disbelief.

"That is your reason?"

"Yes."

"How reckless."

"No. This is bait."

"Do you always use yourself as bait?"

"Only when I am confident I can bite harder."

He laughed under his breath, but there was a faint edge of concern in it. An unnecessary concern.

I was not weak. People seemed to forget this because I was beautiful, polite, wealthy, and burdened with excellent manners. But before anything else, I was a swordmaster. A full-fledged one. The kind most people would never see in their lifetimes unless they were unfortunate enough to meet one on a battlefield.

If enemies thought to approach me as prey because I wore silk instead of armor, then I would happily correct their misunderstanding.

Permanently.

A soft knock came at the door. The Crown Prince stiffened.

"Who is it?"

"Your Highness," came a low voice. "Her Majesty requests to know whether Your Highness requires anything before retiring."

A servant. Or probably a watcher.

The Crown Prince’s expression shut down.

"I need nothing," he called.

A pause.

"Understood, Your Highness."

The footsteps faded. He looked at the door for a long moment.

"She watches everything," he said quietly.

"Of course, she does. She’s the empress."

"I hate it."

"It’s also natural."

"I know she wants to protect me."

"Yes. That does not mean you enjoy the cage."

His fingers tightened.

"No. I do not."

"Then why don’t you build a door if it suffocates you that much?"

He looked at me.

"How do I do that?"

"First, you have to know where the walls are."

I gathered the documents and slid them back toward him. "Make sure to give me copies. Not tonight though. That would be too obvious. Have them placed in the imperial archive delivery to the Elysian Estate tomorrow under the guise of lower vault research."

His brows lifted. "You assume I can arrange that."

"I assume so, because you are the Crown Prince."

His mouth tightened.

"You have power," I said. "The problem is not that you lack it. The problem is that you were trained to request permission to use what is already yours."

He went very still. I guess my words stung a whole lot. Not that I care.

"That is harsh."

"Harsh words are good."

"And why do think that?"

"Soft truths are easily ignored, easily questioned, easily bent."

His gaze lowered. For a moment, he looked angry. At me. At himself.

At whoever had wrapped him in careful obedience and called it protection.

That’s also excellent. Anger could become movement another movement. I’m not picky anyway.

"Fine," he said. "The records will be delivered tomorrow."

"Good."

"Will you tell me what you find?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Whether Your Highness continues being useful to me."

He stared at me. Then, unexpectedly, smiled.

"At least you are honest."

"I am many things."

"Yes. And modesty is not one of them."

"Naturally. I dislike lying."

He shook his head, but the exhaustion on his face had eased slightly. That was enough for tonight. I stood up. The Crown Prince rose as well.

"Your Excellency."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Those children. The ones you intercepted."

"What about them?"

"Are they safe?"

I studied him.

"Yes. They are quite safe."

"Will they remain so?"

"I am not in the habit of losing what I have taken under my protection."

He nodded. Something like relief crossed his face.

"Do you care?"

His gaze turned confused. "Should I not?"

"Many princes only care about children in speeches."

"I am not giving a speech."

"No. You are not."

He held my gaze. "I do care."

I considered him for a moment. Then smiled faintly.

"Then you should quickly become someone whose care matters and actually does something."

It was obvious that the words struck him.

Good. He would remember better that way.

I left the study after that, guided out through the same quiet corridors. The palace felt colder than before. Or perhaps the conversation had dragged too many hidden things into the air.

When I returned to the carriage, one of my shadows emerged briefly from the darkness.

"Report," I said.

"Movement at the Chapel of Saint Orwen, Your Excellency. Temple personnel attempted to remove sealed items through the rear. We intercepted two carriers. One of them escaped."

"Direction?"

"Toward the old aqueduct district."

"Followed?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"And the estate?"

"There are no disturbances."

Excellent.

At least Abi did not have a chance to experiment on vaporizing anyone. That was still progress.

The ride back was quiet. I leaned against the carriage seat and closed my eyes and rearranged the facts in my head.

The Crown Prince had a mark beneath his skin.

Caldus had been present at the rite.

Marcellus had been involved as well.

The symbol connected the relic, chapel, child transfers, and royal illness.

The phrase vessel potential had appeared in both records and implication.

The old warning said not to answer when called but His Highness had been told to answer.

Remember that part disgusted me.

By the time the carriage reached Elysian Estate, I had already decided the next step for each.

The Crown Prince’s records would arrive tomorrow.

Father Caldus needs to be questioned again.

The escaped carrier would lead us somewhere.

And the children under our protection would need a structure sooner than expected.

When I stepped into the estate, Abi stood in the entrance hall with a solemn expression.

Now that was alarming.

"Who died?" I asked.

"No one."

"Who almost died?"

"No one."

"What did you do?"

He looked offended. "Why must you assume I did something?"

"I speak from experience."

William stepped forward. "Lord Abinatha behaved, Your Excellency."

I looked at him. William merely nodded. I shifted back my attention to Abi.

"How suspicious."

Abi rolled his eyes. "Your lack of faith wounds me."

"I am sure you will survive. Does this mean you are sulking because no one died and you did nothing." I asked him. Abi merely pouted which meant that I was right.

I shook my head. Then Spiro appeared at the top of the stairs, already in his nightclothes, hair slightly mussed.

"Father?"

I looked up. "Why are you awake?"

He held the railing. "I waited."

"You should be asleep. It’s already late."

"I know."

"And yet?"

"I wanted to see if you came back."

Ah. That again.

I sighed.

"Come down."

He descended quickly, though not recklessly. When he reached me, he stopped short, as if unsure whether he was allowed to come closer.

I solved the matter by placing a hand on his head.

"I am back."

He nodded, eyes lowering.

"Good."

"Mil received your note," I said.

His head snapped up. "He did?"

"Yes. I have been told that he cried."

Spiro panicked. "Was it bad? Did I write something wrong?"

"No. Tears do not always mean harm."

"Oh."

"He asked if he could write back when he feels better."

Spiro’s face brightened enough to make the hall feel warmer.

"Truly?"

"Yes."

"Then I will wait for his reply."

"Patiently."

"Yes, Father."

"While sleeping, preferrably."

His face fell. Abi laughed softly at his expression.

I guided Spiro back toward the stairs with a hand on his shoulder. "Sleep. Tomorrow will be busy."

"Because of the children?"

"Partly, yes."

"Because of the Crown Prince?"

I paused. Ah. This child really noticed too much.

"Partly."

"Because of adult trouble?"

"Sigh. Mostly. But nothing you need to worry your head about."

He nodded, as if that explained everything. Perhaps it did.

At his door, he turned back once more.

"Father."

"Yes?"

"If those children choose to become my people, and I become worthy, will I be able to protect them just like you do?"

I looked down at him.

He was small, pale, and tired.

"Yes, you will. You are a Konstantin." I said. "But even that, you should not be doing alone."

He blinked, curious.

"People do not follow a leader so the leader can carry everything alone. They follow because they wish to walk in the same direction."

His brows furrowed as he thought about it.

"Then I need to know the direction."

"Yes, you do."

"What direction should I choose then, Father?"

I smiled faintly.

"That is your first real lesson in leadership. No one can choose that for you."

He looked troubled. Well, important questions do tend to trouble people. In fact, it’s a must that they do. Only then would it mean that they had entered properly.

"You should sleep on it," I said.

He nodded.

"Goodnight, Father."

"Goodnight, Spiro."

After his door closed, I stood in the hallway for a moment.

Abi, who had followed quietly, spoke beside me.

"You are building something possibly dangerous."

"I am merely investigating things for now."

"No. You are building."

I did not answer.

He continued, voice softer. "A house for discarded children. A faction for your son. A blade pointed at whoever thought children were convenient tools."

"That sounds awful."

"It sounds righteous."

I turned to him slowly.

"That’s why it’s awful. Say that again and I will commission three lamps and stuff a third of you in each."

He smiled, not teasing this time.

"Of course, brother."

I walked away before he could say anything worse.

Righteous.

How revolting of a word.

I was not righteous. I was offended.

There was a vast difference between the two. One was morality. The other was personal taste.

And my taste had always been excellent.