The Queen's Champion

Chapter 17

When did this become his life?

It’s a simple problem with a simple fix. Get up, go piss. But David can’t move. Doing so would require disturbing the two kids heaped over him, and f**k if that was happening. Two kids currently violating his personal space, which David holds very dear. Two kids that aren’t even his responsibility. How had this happened?

Outside, the wind howls something fierce. Winter is starting to rear its ugly head. They’ll have to brave the chill tomorrow, but tonight David is glad for the layers of mortar and brick that separate them from the elements. This little basement shop wasn’t toasty by any means, but their exposed fingers and noses weren’t nipped by the cold. Huddled together like this, they were warm enough.

The boy shifts on top of him, one arm stretching up and nearly batting David in the face before flopping down. Anthony , he reminds himself. They found out his name is Anthony . He hasn’t spoken a word yet, but Sabrina was the one with the patience to sit the boy down and list off seemingly every name she’d ever heard of. When she guessed Anthony , he had lit up and clapped his hands, and stuck his tongue out when she tried calling him Tom. Sabrina had whirled around, dancing in place and grinning so hard he thought her face might break. “Did you hear that, David? His name is Anthony !”

Sabrina, who is currently digging her nose into his elbow crease and using his forearm as a pillow. It’s been an hour since he’s been able to feel his hand, but he finds himself not minding. Sabrina doesn’t usually initiate physical contact, and it’s unlike her to really cuddle up to him like this.

He’s just glad the shopowner let him crash on her spare cot. This Dunwall windchill killed, cut through your clothing and made your very bones shiver. Shelter was mandatory on nights like this. He’d crawled into dumpsters during these cold snaps before, but this was vastly preferable. He had only asked to sleep on her floor, but she had offered.

David thinks that, a year ago, there’s no way she would have let him spend the night in the back of her store. She would have been nervous the moment he stepped in, nose red from the wind and blowing on his stiff fingers, her glancing at his face and watching the clock for the exact minute she could kick him out and close up shop. Would have gone straight for that burly wife she had in back doing inventory, the wife who had given Anthony  a sticky bun and patted his head when she thought David wasn’t looking. There’s still something about his face that people don’t like, but people seem to care less when he has two young and, frankly, adorable kids in tow.

Stupid. Anybody could pluck a kid off the street. And David certainly wasn’t trustworthy. But he wasn’t the type to take advantage of kindness.

The ladies only had one cot to spare, but that was fine. He and Sabrina would sleep apart in the summer, (at least they would until Sabrina would wake in the middle of the night and scootch closer to him, until the shirts of their backs brushed against each other and she’d fall back asleep, and David never said anything to her because she would never admit to having a nightmare) but since the temperatures have started dropping, they’ve just huddled together to better keep warm. And then Anthony  happened. He went from completely disinterested in the two to needing constant attention and contact. David isn’t really a touchy guy either, but Anthony  likes it. Needs it. So their sleeping arrangements might be cramped tonight, but it’s not far from normal.

Of course, David could have taken the floor, given them all some space. Anthony  could just sleep with Sabrina. But the floor is cold. And David is careful with how much he pushes that. Sabrina is even more averse to physical affection than David is. They’ve reached a sort of balance with each other, an understanding of what the other is comfortable with, and she’s far more open to him touching her than anyone else. But Anthony  is new, and he plows right through all her boundaries. It’s not his fault, of course-David is still trying to pinpoint Anthony ’s age, but he’s too young to really know better. He doesn’t understand that Sabrina doesn’t exactly like thirty pounds of child pressed up against her all the time. He wants to tell Sabrina to get over herself, that Anthony  is just being a kid, but the idea of telling her she needs to let someone touch her when she’s clearly not comfortable with it doesn’t sit well with him either.

They’re getting there, though. Sabrina certainly likes having Anthony  around, despite the lack of personal space he allots. He’s a cute kid, he’ll admit, quiet; though the way he eats is killing David’s coin purse. Just when he’s finally figured out how to make his shitty income stretch to feed two people...another kid who needs clothing and medicine and other s**t that can’t be shoplifted easily. He’s making it work, for now, but his grand plans of saving coin and renting an apartment are shot again. He’s getting too old to comfortably live like a hobo. And it’s not good for Sabrina-Anthony  either. They deserve a real home. David will make it work. He can’t regret taking them in, even if they’re both little shits.

Sabrina’s actually easier to manage, though, with Anthony  around. She’s always been a handful in personality. Not to mention David doubts she had much in the way of rules when living with her mother. He doesn’t really set many, but still she pushes back. Even against the ones she would have abided by without his input. (How hard was ‘wear your boots when you go outside’? She’s still run into the street barefoot just to defy him. It gives him a headache) He knows she’s testing him. Seeing how far she can push him, how much she can get away with. He tries not to be strict-her tantrums blow over like the wind, and she forgets her anger as quickly as it comes, but she can technically leave whenever she wants. If David annoys her too much. David isn’t her father and really has no right to her-no right to pretend he is.

But, weirdly, she listens better with Anthony  around. Better yet, she’s taken to imposing the same rules on him, enforcing them herself. The fact that she does it in a way that manages to mock David doesn’t even ruin it. (“Lace your boots up, David gets the stinkface if you don’t!” A turn and a smile, waggling her fingers in his direction, while David just rolls his eyes at her) And Sabrina absolutely loves playing with him, even though he can’t talk back and sometimes tackles her into a full-body hug for no reason. He distracts her. David can actually focus on the book he’s reading or on whatever he’s roasting over a garbage fire for dinner without her trying to annoy him. Weird, that two kids would actually be easier than one.

He’s always felt bad anyway, that she was stuck with a crusty old man like him with no company her own age. She’s not so old that adult activities were all she needed to entertain her. She needs to play. But Sabrina’s always brushed off his suggestions to go hang out with other streetkids, rejected the gifts of sliding puzzles and little army dolls he’d shoplift for her, always pretending like she was older than she was. She wasn’t a baby, she’d roll her eyes at him. Then she’d stomp her feet and whine about something he told her to do, and David would just have to bite his tongue.

Now, Sabrina mumbles something in her sleep and shifts her head, unpinning his blood vessels and sending uncomfortable prickling sensations through his arm. She settles into her new position, snug between him and the wall. He’s always slept between her and the door, ever since he was approached by some asshole offering to buy her off him. The guy had f****d off after David held him to the wall by his throat and said his piece, but it had still rattled him. He’s teaching her to defend herself, and she has a knife-a real knife, one of his combat knives, not the shitty little oyster-shucking knife she’d been using before-tied to her hip at all times. She knows how to use it. She’s capable. Acting as a barrier while she sleeps, it’s more to appeal to David’s own f****d-up paranoia, which will never be satisfied anyway. Keeping her, them close is for his own peace of mind. And his mind is very at peace like this, with her snoring into the crux of his arm and her ankles tangled up with his, Anthony  strewn over his chest. They’re right here. Can’t forget it. He curls his arm around Sabrina and comes to rest his palm on her shoulder.

He still really has to pee. But it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. He’s not waking these two.

Tomorrow he’ll have to thank the ladies for letting them stay. He’ll leave them the bottle of gin he confiscated from Sabrina’s grubby hands: he’s not going to drink it and f**k knows he’s not letting Sabrina. She also hasn’t had a writing lesson in a few days. She practices on her own, but he should still try to squeeze one in. Should he start including Anthony ? He obviously can’t read. Not much of a surprise-most kids in their position never learned. Sabrina hadn’t until she was twelve. But David has no idea where to begin teaching someone who can’t talk back, can’t give much indication as to how much he even understands. But he feels like he should try. And if David’s successful, then Anthony  can write in place of speaking.

They’ll need to go to the market tomorrow too. Another round of looking for Anthony ’s parents, asking him to point out anyone familiar or just waiting for someone to recognize him-though, they might not without a mask of dirt and mud caked into his hair. It’s been a few weeks, and David has basically no hope of finding them at this point. And if he’s being honest with himself, he’s sort of dreading actually handing Anthony  over to them. How could he trust people who lost him like that in the first place? Who let him starve and never bathed him? Who-no, he doesn’t know the whole story, and he’s not going to go making one up. Only work himself into a rage, doing that.

He’d...rather keep Anthony . Even his shitty guardianship is still probably better than whatever he had before. But still. Anthony  isn’t his. He has to try.

David’s also been putting off clothes shopping for too long; they’re going to need winter gear. His is fine, but Sabrina needs a heavier coat. Hers is too thin for winter and she’s outgrowing it anyway, her wrists jutting out a full three inches below the sleeve cuffs. Anthony  needs a coat, period, and all three of them need new boots. His are actually starting to come apart at the sole; he never lets them get that bad. Sabrina is also going to need a bra at some point...David doesn’t even know where they sell those. Never mind. He is not dealing with that tomorrow.

He has some coin leftover from that shill job last week, and Sabrina will do some pickpocketing while they’re out no matter what he tells her. Should have enough. Bulky winter clothes were tricky to shoplift, preferable to obtain legally. He can’t get arrested. Not with these two depending on him for their next meal. And if they were connected to him, they’d be taken away as well. David’s not their legal guardian. He’d never see them again. Nope. He’ll pay for the clothes. Not worth the risk.

His life is full of this, shitty non-decisions stuck between a rock and a hard place. Worrying about kids who constantly give him grief and make him want to tear his hair out. Being broke all the time because he splurges any extra money he has on treats. Planning his days around what’s best for these two streetrats and putting his own needs and wants third. How the f**k had this become his life?

And when did he start to enjoy it?

Vasco doesn’t stay in Eugene’s quarters for long. He spends three nights there and then promptly moves his things into the mall’s local bookshop, saying he didn’t want to intrude. Intrude on what, David doesn’t know, as Eugene barely returns to his shop anymore. But he can see the way Eugene watches Vasco, the relief on his face when Vasco moves out. Eugene doesn’t hate the kid, of course. But with the way things have happened, there’s no way he could ever like him either.

Now, Vasco spends most of his time working with Jerome until Anthony  gets done with lessons and Rose with work-then the three will disappear for hours. He fills notebooks full of chemical compounds and scientific theories and discusses potential treatment options for Hypatia. But he doesn’t set foot inside her prison.

So it surprises David when Vasco asks to go with him.

“You know she hasn’t gotten any better,” David grunts as he laces up his boots, his bed creaking something awful as he leans over.

Vasco glances furtively around the room. “That’s why I wanted you with me.”

“She’s in a cage, kid.” David stares at him. “She can’t hurt you.”

“I’d...feel better with you there, sir.”

Why? If Hypatia got free, David couldn’t protect him.

David sighs. Lets his boot clunk down on the floor, pushes himself up. “I can’t really tell you no. But if she gets too... excited, I’m going to send you out.”

They meet Joan on the way down to the mall. She pinches Vasco under her arm and rubs his head, comments that his hair is starting to grow in, and shoots David a look. He declines to comment.

This has become a ritual of sorts. Twice a day, before breakfast and after dinner, David and Joan will visit Hypatia. See if there’s any changes to her behavior. Any sign she’s cracking. Something.

But nothing. Grim Alex has remained stoic. She mocks, threatens, spins stories purposely meant to stick in your mind and rattle you awake in the moments before you fall asleep. But she hasn’t answered a single one of their questions.

Well, not the ones they want her to answer, at least.

Joan tries to placate him, tells him that Alex has to crack sometime. David doesn’t say anything back. How does she know? Grim Alex is like nothing either of them have ever dealt with before.

(He never cracked. Six months and not a single c***k in his resolve. And they were much worse to him than they are to Alex. It was never a battle to stay quiet. Maybe it was because he had no hope of surviving. He shut his mouth and took it. Let his body go flack and waited for the end. He never once felt his conviction flutter, felt the urge to confess to killing her. A crime he would never commit. There was nothing to hold out against)

If Alex wasn’t going to talk, then their one lead had ended at a brick wall. They’d wasted a month chasing a literal dead end. And that meant they’d have to find some other way to uncover Gardenia’s identity, torch Delilah’s coven and kill her so they could crown Anthony  before he died of old age.

Why couldn’t, for once, this have worked out nicely? Why couldn’t Doctor Hypatia just be a batty student in way over her head? Why did therealways have to be a catch?

No use complaining about it, though David still does in his head. He’d give it two more days. If Alex has been here a week and shows no sign of wearing down, then he’d find a new thread. Delilah’s plans, he’s learning, are full of loose ends. He just has to locate another and start tugging.

The air is different when they step into the store, and David stops just to make sure Alex is still in her cage. She is. Kneeling on the floor very nicely.

Sitting and talking to Eugene.

“David!” Eugene scrambles to his feet, his face brighter than David’s ever seen. “Lizzy! You won’t believe it!”

“What the f**k are you doing in here alone?” David barks before he even has time to slide the door down. “There’s rules about that! Two people in the room with her, you need to take Jerome or Trimble with you!”

They actually instilled that rule because Trimble was being too weird with her. But it worked in reverse too, to protect everyone else.

But Eugene just shakes his head. “No, it’s not...it’s not her anymore. Alexandria is back!”

“I never really went anywhere, uncle.” Hypatia sits there, staring at them morosely, her hand at her shirt collar. “I feel I’ve been napping. Like all the days I’ve blacked out, but you said…”

David moves forward, slowly, never taking his eyes off her. Eugene returns to his position, kneeling on the floor two feet from the bars of the cage.

“You said I’ve been doing these...things,” Hypatia says, holding her hand in front of her face.

Eugene shakes his head. “No, dear, that wasn’t you. There’s someone poisoning you, but we’ll get her out, love.”

“I thought she…” Hypatia shakes her head. “I didn’t think anyone else could hear her. Didn’t think she was real. I thought...I don’t know what I thought. The opposite of a conscience. She was that, given form, but I never thought she had that power over me.”

“It’s okay.” Joan shoves her hands into her pockets, her elbow linked with Vasco’s. “It’s the beast in all of us. You couldn’t control it. Be a hypocrite to hold it against you.”

“Perhaps. I don’t really subscribe to the notion of the id, but it might hold some weight if-” Her head snaps up. “Vasco? Vasco, is that you?”

Vasco raises his free hand and smiles with his lips pressed together. Hypatia covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, dear, did I do that to you? I did, didn’t I? I hurt you, oh Void…this is why you lied to me all those times...when you broke both your legs, oh Vasco…”

“She said it was to keep me from escaping.” Vasco says it to the ground. “I think she was...mad, that I wouldn’t abandon you.”

Hypatia shakes her head. “How lucky I am, to have a friend like you. You’re so wonderful. I thought...with all the bruises, it was the guard who always flirted with you.”

“Yeah, no, she would have...she would have killed anyone I got involved with. I turned him down. I mean, she ended up killing him anyway…”

“I can’t believe I didn’t…” She leans forward, reaches out through the bars. “Step a little closer. Let me see what I’ve done to you.”

Vasco just stares at her.

“It’s alright.” Eugene turns to him with a smile. “It’s not her anymore.”

“I’d prefer to stand back here, if you don’t mind.”

“Vasco, you can trust me.” Hypatia stares at him with intense, tragic eyes. “I will never hurt you again, I promise.”

Vasco just clutches Lizzy’s arm a little tighter and smiles.

Joan shoots him an odd look, but she unhooks her thumb from her pocket and lets Vasco cling to her.

David folds his arms and watches Hypatia with narrowed eyes. “So how are you back now? You’ve been here for days and this other persona has been in charge the entire time.”

Hypatia shrugs as she settles back to the floor. “I don’t know why she’s released me. But I don’t even feel her there, not even the knocking at the back of my mind...maybe you’ve starved her to death.”

“We tried to feed her.” David stares her down. “She wouldn’t eat.”

“That’s not...I don’t think that’s the sustenance she needs…”

“Are you hungry?” Eugene jumps forward. “You must be, she’s rejected food for the last five days...I’ll go make you something.”

He scurries away while Joan scoffs. “Sucks to be her, huh? We’re not too interested in feeding cannibals. Even I have to draw the line there. Unless, you know, you’re stranded in the Serkonan desert and there’s nothing else to eat. That I can give a pass to.”

Vasco turns to her. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I’ve met some interesting characters.”

David thought she was just going on a hunger strike. He considered doing the same, when he was in prison, not in protest but just to speed things along. But Delilah’s witches were very good at starving him, pushed him out to the brink and then fed him just enough to keep him from falling off. They would have noticed if he refused one of those few, sparse meals. Delilah wouldn’t have let him actually starve to death. She wouldn’t let him die before she commanded it.

“I mean,” Joan breaks in. “You can’t really judge too much. Some people have been through a lot, and nobody’s perfect. I ran a gang, okay, we weren’t good people by any stretch of the imagination, but we had standards.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “You gotta draw a line somewhere. And that ‘Grim Alex’ chick ran over every single one of mine.”

“There’s had to be periods longer than five days where you’ve been in control.” David stares at Hypatia. “Do you think feeding gives her strength over you?”

Hypatia shakes her head. “No. No, it’s all the formula. The cure I developed-it didn’t work, obviously, but it...did something to me. That’s what feeds her.”

“How do you know? You weren’t aware of how strong she was until now.”

Hypatia opens her mouth to retort, but then Eugene breaks back in.

“Right from the kitchen.” He smiles at them, balancing a bowl in his palm with steam still rising from the top. “We’re having rice with breakfast today.”

“We have rice with every meal.” Joan rolls her eyes. “Rice and fish, fish and rice.”

“And potatoes,” Vasco points out.

“Only when we have enough salt to hide how rotten they are.”

“Well, everything’s sort of rotten now. With the blockade we can’t get produce or meat from anywhere else, and Dunwall doesn’t really produce much in the way of food besides whalemeat. Which makes it expensive, so we’re stuck with the things that have kept-”

“I know the reasons for it, kid, I’m just saying I’m sick of rice.”

Eugene approaches the cage, and David holds out his hand. “Wait. You,” he says, pointing to Hypatia. “Step back, turn around. Hands behind you head.”

“You’re really doing this?” Hypatia stares at him. “I’m not going to-he’s my uncle!”

“David. ” Eugene’s eyes plead with him, but David shakes his head.

“You haven’t seen how fast Alex can take over. Don’t take chances.”

“It’s alright, uncle.” Hypatia smiles at him, but casts a sour glance in David’s direction. “David’s just...trying to protect everyone. He thinks it’s still his job.”

David grits his teeth. “It’s not my job, it’s just not being an idiot.”

“Didn’t you kill the Empress?” She remarks, turning her back slightly to peer at him as Eugene sets the bowl on the ground. “I don’t really have words for what that makes you. Uncle, how are you friends with someone like him?”

Eugene presses a finger to his lip. “Alex, darling, that’s propaganda. David loved her like his own child; he wouldn’t have killed her.”

Hypatia sits back down and sets the bowl in her lap. “I don’t know how you can believe that,” she mumbles, picking up her fork and watching them through her eyelashes.

David feels like his teeth are going to crumble from the pressure he’s exerting on them. “He believes it because that’s the truth.”

“Why do you think you can lie to me? I was there.” Hypatia stares up at him. “Luca and I both, we were up on this walkway...we watched it happened. He choked her, uncle. Tried to strangle her and then stabbed her like a madman when she tried to wriggle out of his grasp. There was so much blood...it was so awful.”

David sees Eugene’s throat muscles move as he swallows. “I know they played games with your mind, lied to you. Maybe that’s what they told you, and over time you must have convinced yourself of those events. But that’s not what happened, sweetheart. We have proof.” He glances in David’s direction. “And I consider David one of my friends. I know him enough to know he wouldn’t have hurt that little girl.”

“She wasn’t a little girl,” David mumbles, then goes red. “Um...thanks, though.”

Hypatia just stares into her bowl of rice. “You’d believe him over your own niece…”

“It’s not like that, honey. You’re not well. People have been taking advantage of you.”

“It’s fine.” David waves his hand. “How Sabrina died isn’t what I came here to discuss. I know what really happened to her. And I need your help taking down the people responsible.”

“There’s not much I could tell you.” Hypatia presses her fork into the grains. “If all of what you say is true, then she is the one who knows everything.”

“She won’t tell us s**t,” Joan snorts, rolling her eyes. “Come on, you worked for the Regent. You must know some names.”

Hypatia bites her lip, her eyes flicking to the corners of her cage. “Her inner circle...well, Luca, obviously. I was going over some things with him, the day David killed Empress Sabrina. He’s very devoted to the Regent, so you might want to start-”

“Abele is already dead,” David says through gritted teeth.

Eugene kneels down to put himself at eye level with Hypatia. “He died about a month ago, sweetie. I’m sorry if you didn’t hear.”

She blinks. Stares at David for a long moment, then goes back to picking at her food. “No, that...that does ring a bell now. Right. David killed him too, didn’t he?”

“Yes.” David folds his arms. “He conspired to have the Empress assassinated, the heir abducted, and was keeping a relative of one of our allies captive. That’s not even mentioning his involvement in your predicament. He had-”

“Predicament?” Hypatia raises one eyebrow.

“He was heavily involved. Trust me. He deserved it.”

Hypatia says nothing. She just continues to move her fork around, occasionally bringing it to her mouth. Watching them.

“So Abele’s off,” Joan breaks the silence at last. “We took out Arnold Timsh and Bundry Rothwild too. Had a cool little board set up with pictures, but Jerome accidentally set it on fire. Who else belongs on our murder list?”

“We’re looking for someone in particular,” David says. “A very powerful witch. One of the Ashworth siblings-the codename they go by is ‘Gardenia’. Do you know anything about that?”

“Well, Reginald is living in Bastillian now, so he’s been away from Dunwall since this all began. I don’t know if that’s any help…”

Joan nods appreciatively, then turns to David. “Right, so we’ve narrowed it down to three fuckers.”

“Five minus one is four, Lizzy. I thought I was done teaching basic arithmetic ten years ago.”

“Josiah Ashworth is gay as f**k, so it ain’t him. Makes three. I know my numbers. Anyway, it’s something.”

Not a something Anthony  would be happy acting on. He won’t permit David to make a move until they’ve whittled it down to one target. David can’t go against his Emperor’s orders-not like that.

The fact that Reginald isn’t physically in Dunwall doesn’t actually help, now that David thinks about it. Delilah has those statues-how far can she project herself to them? From Dunwall Tower to the Legal District, at least, but could she communicate with an agent on another island?

Would it make sense to have Gardenia operate in Serkonos? David doesn’t know how far the coven reaches. How far their power reaches. And Delilah very well might have sent Gardenia away for their own safety-if she has a shred of understanding of what’s going on, she would want them hidden.

“We’ll go over it more later,” David says, rubbing his face. “Who were the other three again?”

“Leo, Rosalind, and Breanna.”

“I thought you said there was only one girl?”

“Rosalind’s a guy.” Joan shrugs. “f**k if I know what they were smoking. He’s twins with Breanna, so my best guess is they got some lady vibes and had their hearts set on having two girls. I would too, after three f*****g boys.”

“They don’t pronounce it like that, though,” Vasco supplies helpfully. “It’s more like ‘Ross- alind.”

“That...sounds like a pasta dish Ricardo would make. And now I’m hungry.”

“So did you deal with any of those three?” David butts back in, staring Hypatia down. “Anything sound familiar?”

Hypatia brings her fork with a few grains of rice to her lips and mouths it, then places it back down in her bowl. “I think...Ashworth, something about a party, invitations written with silver ink and a note to buy flowers. In the Month of Hearths?” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. It’s all...foggy.”

“A party.” Eugene turns to them with hopeful eyes. “So Ashworth is throwing some sort of party next month, or...well, could be in a few days, but if we look-”

“She’s talking about the Boyle party,” David says louder than intended, pressing his lips together to keep his exasperation in check. “The Masquerade. That’s on the thirteenth. Trust me, it’s an all-month affair. Nobody with the slightest shred of social awareness is going to be planning a party then.”

“But would Ashworth be there?” Joan asks Hypatia, then turns to David. “If they’re important to the Regent, then they might have gotten an invite!”

David huffs. “If Ashworth is really that important to Delilah, she wouldn’t let them go to the masquerade. Not with people like us running loose in the city.” In later years, when David’s nerves have calmed a bit, he might be able to let Anthony  go to parties and mingle and dance without seeing a concealed blade in every sleeve and poison in every cup of wine. But this year? Anthony  is staying squirreled away in here, safe as houses, until David has surgically removed every threat from the fabric of Dunwall high society.

If Delilah is even remotely connected to reality at this point, she should be aware of the danger that her inner circle is in. And if she truly loves Gardenia, in the way she never did Sabrina, she’d be pulling out all the stops to keep them safe.

“We-we could just ask Lydia who’s on the list!” Eugene says brightly. “If we know Gardenia was invited-”

“We can what? We can’t be sure and the name is only half the puzzle anyway. We still don’t know where they are.”

“We will though! For one night.”

“We could go to the Masquerade!” Vasco says, smiling wider than David’s seen him in the few days he’s known the kid. “Lydia can get us in, and I could point out anyone who looks familiar!”

“It’s a masquerade, kid. Everyone wears masks.” Joan pats his head affectionately.

Vasco’s shoulders slump. “Oh, we...we call that something else, back in Serkonos. I didn’t realize.” He straightens back up. “But there’s got to be ways to figure out who’s who. And I may recognize people’s voices.”

“You’re not going to a party, Vasco.” David stares him down. “You’re supposed to be kidnapped and being held against your will.”

“So? Rose is going, and she’s supposed to be dead.”

David sighs and rubs the inner corners of his eyes. “I’m tempted not to let anyone go to this damn party.”

“Well, what if we want to go to the party?” Joan puts her hands on her hips. “What are you gonna do, ground us?”

“I don’t even know what that is, and you don’t like parties.”

“Says who?!” Joan fluffs her wisp of hair and flips it obnoxiously over her shoulder. “Maybe I want to wear a pretty dress and jewels for a night, make me feel like an Empress.”

“We’re not going to the Masquerade,” David deadpans. Joan pouts.

“You never take me anywhere nice.”

“Do you know if the Regent is attending, Alex?” Eugene scoots closer to the cage. “Even if she’s wearing a mask, perhaps we-”

“Get away from her,” David barks, waving his hand. Eugene just stares at him with those big hazel eyes.

“Why? David, it’s-”

“Because that’s not your niece!”

Hypatia tears her eyes from Eugene then, her fingers tightening around the bar she’s begun gripping onto. They both stare at David, and Eugene’s mouth moves without sound.

“I don’t…” Hypatia’s voice quivers dramatically, after a beat. “Why are you being so cruel to me?”

David rolls his eyes. “Please. Don’t insult my intelligence. I’m not fooled, so drop the act.”

“How are you friends with such a man?” Hypatia’s head whips sideways, her eyes filling with water. “And you’re willing to side with him over me? Your own flesh and blood? An Empress-killer, uncle!”

“I trust David-”

“You trust a man whose mouth is stained red with lies and blood!”

Eugene pushes himself up on his heels and begins to back away. “I told you, Alex,” he says slowly. “You’re not yourself, and he didn’t-”

“He killed her!” Her eyes grow wide, and she lurches forward to grab the bars with both hands. “He’s a murderer! He killed her, he killed her!”

All of a sudden, Grim Alex picks up her ignored bowl of rice and launches it straight at David’s head. It’s easy enough, with David’s supernatural reflexes, to dodge, but he still grimaces as he hears it shatter against the wall.

Great. Now they were down a bowl.

“How dare you?” Alex snarls, pushing her face through the bars. “Your pretty niece is suffering, wasting away in here, and you side with this bastard killer? Pathetic!”

Eugene holds a hand to his heart. “But...Alex, she-”

“It was never her, sir.” Vasco’s lips are tightly pressed together, staring at the cage intently. “She mimics Hypatia well. I knew it when she started calling David a killer. Hypatia thinks she spent the day of the Empress’s murder in her room with a migraine.”

It was her eyes that had tipped David off. When he had first met her, Hypatia’s eyes would only focus for a moment. They slid over him, slowly, like a smoked bee stumbling sleepily outside its hive.

Now, her eyes move like a jaguar tracking its prey. Darting around wildly, quickly. Focusing abnormally. Now, her eyes are trained on him as she rattles the bars, hoisting her feet up and sticking the toes of her slippers through the slots.

“When I get out of here,” she says, her voice dripping with venom. “I will kill you last.”

“Terrifying.” David folds his arms. “You’re not getting out.”

She slams her elbow against the bars and yelps. “I will! And I will tie you down, chain your legs to the floor just like my dear Vasco, cut off your hand and make you watch!”

“His hand?” Eugene turns to him with a perturbed expression. “What does that have to do with…”

“We’ll play a game, you and I.” Alex’s voice goes husky, and she throws her head back and laughs. “Guessing how long they’ll last. How long will it take my sweet Vasco to bleed out after I’ve removed his limbs? How many organs can I remove from my dear uncle’s stomach before he expires? And you, little whaler-” She points at Lizzy. “I told you I’d cut your legs off! I’ll bind them, keep them from bleeding so I can watch you crawl around like the pathetic worm you are!”

David sighs. “I think this visit is over.”

“Oh, but we’re just getting started!” She swings herself around, still attached to the side of the cage like a Pandyssian monkey. “You know what would be fun? If I made you choose how they die. We’re going to have such fun together, David. We’ll take everyone apart and roll in the mess!” She cackles, her face twitching. “I’ll save her for the finale, so you can watch her wriggle in pain-no! I’ll kill your boy last! So we can take our time, make him scream!”

“I don’t think...don’t think Delilah would really be happy if you, you know, killed him.” Joan is actually leaning away from Alex. “Her plan kinda revolves around Anthony  being alive and shit.”

“I don’t care what my mistress wants!” Alex bursts out. “I told her, she can find some other blond boy to use! Parliament won’t care! They just want to avoid a war! Use another child, pretend it’s the true heir! This one’s mine! I will taste royal flesh!”

“Come on. We’re done here.” David grabs Eugene by the elbow.

“You can’t keep me in here forever!” They hear Alex pull on the bars, screeching in frustration. “I will get out! And you will see that my mistress has never been the one people should fear! It’s me! It’s always been me!”

They retreat to Eugene’s quarters to regroup. Vasco sits on a table with his ankles linked together and his hands firmly in his lap. Eugene sits and puts his head in his hands.

“I’m a fool,” he moans. “An utter fool.”

Joan clicks her tongue. “Nah, just a sentimental one. There’s a difference.”

“Lizzy,” David admonishes, then turns back to Eugene. “No. I get it. You want your niece back. You’ll see her in anything.”

He thinks of the Talisman. Sabrina’s dead voice, a piece of her ripped away from her humanity, divorced from all the little things that made her up. Existing on the tips of his fingers and resting in his palm, but never truly in his grasp.

“Has she done this before?” David asks Vasco, even though he already knows the answer.

Vasco doesn’t take his eyes off the floor, but he nods. “Most often with the guards and the like. They’d come to investigate if they...you know, if they heard me screaming. She’d pretend to be Hypatia, get them to go away...but she’s done it to get my guard down. She likes playing mind games. Calls it ‘cat and mouse’.”

Ugh.

“But one thing she said got me thinking…” Vasco presses his fingers together and rests them against his lips as he thinks. “I don’t doubt she’s really starving.”

“You’d think she would be, but she didn’t even eat when we put food in her hands.” Joan rolls her eyes. “That’s what tipped me off that something wasn’t right. I get hangry when I don’t eat for five hours, much less five days.”

“Yes, and she’s...never been in this form, not for this long.”

David watches him carefully. “I got the impression that Alex was usually the one in charge.”

Vasco starts nodding fervently. “Yes, but she wasn’t...she was more of a shotgun side driver, if you get my metaphor. She could guide Hypatia’s mind, even though Hypatia was technically the one in control. She’s never exerted full control over Hypatia’s body like this for more than a day or so, maybe two.”

Joan snorts. “What, and you think Grim Alex needs to eat more or something?”

“That’s exactly what I’m getting at. I think assuming control requires more energy than we think. She’s remaining in control because she doesn’t want us to get to Hypatia, that much is obvious, but it’s wearing on her.”

“Then why is she refusing food?” David holds his hand out. “That doesn’t make sense-she should want to eat as much as we push at her.”

Vasco taps at his chin. “I think she was telling the truth when she said that wasn’t the type of food she needed.”

“Oh, gross.” Joan wrinkles her nose. “I am not feeding her people!”

“I don’t think human meat is really required, but...I do think she needs meat. The protein, likely, that’s probably what she needs to fuel her. Maybe we should give her some fish?”

David shakes his head. “Why are we trying to make her eat? What I’m hearing is that she’ll get weaker if we don’t give in to her.”

“So you’re willing to starve my niece?” Eugene puts his hands down, staring at David with a curled lip.

“Not like that. Just until Grim Alex can’t keep control of her body any longer.”

“Don’t get mad at David, bro.” Joan bumps Eugene with her knee. “He doesn’t like this any more than you do.”

No, he really doesn’t like this. He doesn’t want to deal with Hypatia either. Hypatia doesn’t know s**t. No matter which way he looks at it, he’s back to square one.

“I know, I know.” Eugene buries his face in his hands again. “I just…” He blows out, long and slow.

“I understand,” David says, though the words are sour on his tongue. “We should get going to breakfast. Eugene, maybe you should take a break from visiting Alex for a bit, I-”

“David, I need to ask you something,” Eugene says as Vasco is hopping down from his perch, Joan already a few steps towards the door. “And I need to you be truthful.”

“What?”

He doesn’t look up from the floor. “Did you really kill that little girl?”

David grits his teeth. “She wasn’t a little girl,” he spits.

“Did you kill the Empress, then? Tell me truthfully, did you kill Sabrina?”

He just breathes for a moment. The anger is there, red hot and piping, exiting in steam through his nose.

But he’s...tired. He’s too tired to act as anger’s puppet, to act on the fury. He can’t hold up against the barrage. The thought of combating these accusations, replaying the events and arguing his side, every time it comes up for the rest of his life makes him just want to lay down and die right where he is.

He ends up not having to, as Joan charges forward, pushes past David and slaps Eugene smartly across the face.

“David didn’t f*****g kill her!” she screams, striking him again. “Quit asking him!”

“I haven’t asked before-” Eugene raises his hand to stop her third blow, but David reaches forward and catches Lizzy’s fist in his hand.

“That’s enough,” he says to her, then turns back to Eugene. “If that’s really what you think of me-”

“That’s not what I...my niece remembers a series of false events!” he motions. “David, you must know how it looks! Standing over her corpse, covered in her blood! I’m not even implying you did it while mentally sound, I’m saying you might have convinced yourself-”

“That woman in there is not your niece.”

“But why would she insist you killed her, then?” he shoots back. “She has nothing to gain from that!”

“Maybe making us fight like geese?” Joan shoves Eugene in the chest before David can grab her. “Which is working!”

“I didn’t start the fight, you-”

“Why the f**k would David kill her?! It hurt him more than anyone else! He got-”

“Enough!” David barely raises his voice, but the two go silent instantly. He raises his finger, letting it nod in the air once, twice before he can look Eugene in the eye and speak. “I have defended myself time and time again, and I’m not doing it anymore. I watched Sabrina die. They made me watch.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“I was covered in her blood because I tried to hold her together with my bare hands.” David’s lip curls. “I tried to hold onto her. I tried to keep her blood inside her. I did my best and it wasn’t good enough. I have spent every goddamn day and night since going over it in my mind, trying to find something I did wrong, some way that I could have changed what happened. And I would give anything to have it been me growing cold on the floor instead of her.”

“David, I-”

“You knew I would have done anything for her, you’ve told me how special and wonderful our relationship was.” He lets his arm swing back down to his side. “And if you can think that and still think I would have put a sword through her, then I guess that says a lot about the person I’ve become.” He stares. Eugene doesn’t look back. “Think whatever you want. If you want to think I’m a monster, then go ahead. I clearly have done nothing to deserve anything less.”

He grabs Joan by the arm and pulls her away, and she almost stumbles into him in surprise. Vasco is still standing by his table, his hands at his temples and his eyes staring in horror. It reminds him of how Anthony  would look when he was young, when David and Sabrina would fight. Hands over his ears, bent over and crying into the floor, begging them not to hurt each other and demanding they say their sorries when they were done.

“David, wait. I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be.” He reaches out and tugs on Vasco’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go to breakfast.”

David grabs his cup before it tumbles over the edge. Grumbles, puts it back to his lips as Anthony  tries to maneuver his plate into the space and whispers an apology. David moves Lizzy’s mug aside, trying to reduce her sprawl and ignoring her glare. Vasco’s plate is halfway off the table, and David can only wonder how it hasn’t tipped into his lap already. Rose makes to sit down and her belly moves the entire table half an inch forward. She makes a face and scoots her chair back.

This table was not meant for six people. With the inclusion of Vasco, their breakfasts and lunches have become rather cramped affairs. Rose has resumed work now and eats earlier than they do, but she gets frequent breaks and usually nurses a cup of tea at the table with the rest of them. Joan apparently would rather eat on a surface the size of a postage stamp than go sit at the main table with Edgar, so she remains and David still doesn’t ask questions.

“So how was she?” Lydia asks brightly, as she’s done every morning. Her stitches have been removed and the cuts on her cheek are healing nicely-but they will scar. Horribly so.

Lydia doesn’t seem to care too much, however. Maybe it’s because she never seemed to fuss over her appearance in general. Or maybe because she sees people like David and realizes that disfigurement didn’t necessarily mean the death of your career and social life, even among the upper class.

David shakes his head and doesn’t say anything. Joan elbows him in the ribs.

“Same s**t, different day. David’s just getting his panties in a knot over something Eugene said.”

Normally, David might be tempted to say something about projecting. But he’s just too tired now. Not even the residual anger he’s so used to feeling constantly-just exhaustion.

If anything, he’s only mad about him calling her a little girl. Sabrina was twenty-three goddamn years old. And she will always be that age. She will never grow older, never have children, never see her hair go grey. Never fall in love with someone who deserved her. Sabrina had died young, yes. But she was a grown woman. She had a job and did it well, handled it with more grace and maturity even at a young age than most nobles displayed throughout their entire lives. She wasn’t the Child Empress anymore, and it bothers him that that’s what she’s been reduced to.

“Oh? Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, David. The man’s as gentle as a lamb.”

“We might have a breakthrough in the Gardenia case, however,” Vasco says before shoving a forkful of rice into his mouth. He politely chews and swallows before continuing. “They might be attending the Boyle Masquerade. I’m, um, told that you could verify that? Do you work for them or something?”

Lydia blinks. “Vasco, you do know who I am, right? I’m Lydia Boyle.”

“Oh.” Then Vasco goes completely red. “I forgot. David and Joan told me that. You don’t...act like a noble.”

Lydia’s mouth parts slightly, but Rose waves her hand. “No, not like that. He just means you’re actually nice to us.”

“Half this table is technically nobility,” Joan points out. “But you wouldn’t know because we’re all cool cats here and we don’t give a shit.”

David gives her a funny look. “I’m not a nobleman.”

“Sure you are. The Empress gave you a title, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but-” Then he pauses, presses him lips together. “That doesn’t count.”

Anthony  raises his eyebrow. “No, David, that’s how it works. You’re a Lord. You’ve been one for over ten years.”

“Well, I’m not one right now.”

“You will be once I give your title back.”

Joan raises her hands. “Okay, shut up. So David was born in a dumpster, but he’s spent half his life in a palace so close enough. I’m just saying that none of you act all stuck up like you’d expect.”

He has not, in fact, spent half his life at Dunwall Tower. Not even a third of it. David grumbles as he takes another sip of coffee. “Guess my blue collar is showing.”

“Better a blue collar than a silver spoon up your ass,” Rose says nonchalantly, causing Lydia to nearly choke on her bread. “But honestly, I’ve had to pick up after a lot of nobles, and Anthony  is by far the tidiest. I’ve never seen a nobleman pick up his own socks before.”

“That’s probably because David made me clean my own room until I was fourteen. It’s ingrained in me.” Anthony  shoots him a sour look. “Henever made Sabrina.”

“She never had a room to clean.”

“Until she did.”

“You think I could tell the Empress of the Isles to clean her room?” He did. “I still clean my own room, so quit your whining.”

You’d think David made him get on his hands and knees and scrub the floor with lye. The maids did the major cleaning-the scrubbing and washing and whatnot. All he did was make Anthony  pick up after himself, keep his things tidy if not organized, and make his own bed every morning. He made Sabrina do the same, though her bed always remained a mess because he lost that fight. He had to pick his battles with that girl. Sometimes he didn’t pick well.

“Our mother made Esma and I tidy up our toys, but Waverly never had to.” Lydia taps her lip. “That explains a lot about her behavior, actually. But anywho. How do you know Gardenia will be at our Masquerade?”

“We don’t,” David says. “Alex mentioned something about going herself.”

“Well, she wasn’t invited, but plenty of people bring plus ones.”

“I know you haven’t been home in a while, but can you remember any Ashworths on your guest list?”

“Ashworth?” Rose says in a high pitch. “Who’s...Ashworth?”

“That’s Gardenia,” Anthony  tells her. “We have a last name, but no first.”

“...Oh.”

“I don’t recall,” Lydia says, nose wrinkling in concentration. “If I’d been able to make the meeting with my sisters, I would have checked.”

“Can’t you just go home whenever you want?” Joan asks. Lydia shakes her head.

“No, no, the city is far too dangerous for me to travel between districts. Or within them, apparently.”

“One of us could escort you,” David says.

“That’s a kind offer, but it wouldn’t work. My sisters, um, think I’ve joined a convent.”

“Wait.” Joan leans forward. “Those are real?”

“...Yes?”

“f**k, I always thought my ma’s threats were hollow. She always said she was gonna ship me off to one of those. Put me in a chastity belt and spend all my days meditating.”

“I don’t...think they quite go that far, but yes, I would not be able to stand it. My mother sent me there one summer.” She shudders. “It was so quiet. No speaking outside of arranged meetings and you were only allowed to read religious text. I told my mother I’d open my wrists if she even sent me back.” She folds her hands on the table. “So I suppose it proves how little my sisters know me. Originally, they had an armed escort sent to the convent when we were supposed to meet. I’d have Galia sneak me in and meet me again when I was dropped off. After Rose and I were attacked, I had Galia give the guards a letter, telling them I’d fallen ill. She had to dress up as one of the other girls to hand it off. They’d be suspicious if I just showed up at the manor with an armed guard.”

“So the short answer is that you’re not going to be back until the night of the ball.”

“Precisely, yes.”

David huffs in annoyance. Lydia leans forward.

“If you think Gardenia will be there, I will gladly get you in. I can tell the doormen to expect you, or sneak you in some other way if you’d like. Everyone will be wearing masks, but there’s always little guessing games going on.”

Vasco raises his hand. “If we go to this party, I may recognize the voices of people who have met with Hypatia. It’s not perfect, but it may help.”

“Wait. You’re going?” Anthony  asks then, as Vasco nods proudly, turns to face David. He opens his mouth, and David answers before Anthony  can get the words out.

“No.”

“But they’re both going!” Anthony  says, motioning to the other teenagers at the table, who both look instantly embarrassed.

“No.”

“But-”

“No. Anthony , you’re not going.”

“Eh, why not?” Joan examines a piece of fried fish before popping it into her mouth. “Gotta get in that practice for all the fancy rich people parties you’ll be going to.”

“Anthony  has attended plenty of formal events, and the ruling monarch isn’t allowed to attend the Masquerade anyway.” He turns back to Anthony . “It’s too dangerous.”

“But I’ll be wearing a mask! Nobody will know it’s me!” He motions to Rose and Vasco again, who both sink lower in their seats. “They’re supposed to be in hiding too. So what, a mask will hide them fine, but not me?”

David doesn’t really like them going either. He’ll avoid bringing Vasco along if he can. He’s still trying to think up excuses to keep Rose home. Maybe he’ll have Trimble make up some bullshit medical reason why she shouldn’t attend.

They’re children, whether they like it or not. And he’ll protect them. It’s just too big of a risk right now, especially if Gardenia is there.

‘If we end up going to this party, Joan and I will be working.” David sips his coffee. “We will be too busy to protect you.”

“But I won’t need protecting if I wear-”

“The answer is no, Anthony . You are going to this party over my dead body.”

Anthony  looks to the table and sulks. Joan makes a scoffing noise.

“Wait, so back up a second. Why the f**k can’t the Emperor go to this thing? I thought being, you know, the supreme ruler of everything would automatically grant you an invite to every party ever.”

“Oh, he’s invited,” Lydia says carefully. “Well, not this year, obviously, my sisters think he’s dead, but we invited the Empress every year.”

“Decorum prevented her from attending,” David tells Lizzy. “It’s one of those unwritten rules.”

Joan sticks out her bottom lip. “That’s f*****g bullshit, man.”

“The Empress thought so too.”

Lydia leans forward and smiles coyly in David’s direction. “I suppose that’s why you two snuck in last year?”

David glares at her.

“What?” Anthony  tilts his head. “You and Sabrina crashed the Masquerade?”

“They did. And they looked smashing.”

“How did you find out?” David asks. He’s trying to think of ways they may have slipped up-they had piloted their own boat there, one without the Crown’s sigil plastered over the side, and hadn’t removed their masks until they were halfway back to Dunwall Tower. They spoke off-pitch and faked a lilt to their words around others, as David’s voice was easily recognizable and Sabrina’s accent was a weird mesh of urban Dunwall and Empiric aristocrat and was quite distinctive to the Empress. Sabrina was quite obviously wearing a wig, but many noblewomen did so for fashion. Perhaps there was a point where her sleeve slipped up a little too far, exposed some of the skin between the cuff and the glove...no, while most nobles were indeed lighter than her, she certainly wasn’t the only one with that skin color. That alone shouldn’t have given it away.

He’d been careful. He’d planned it considerably, so Sabrina could go and be safe, both from physical dangers and court intrigue. And it pisses him off that he’d failed and he hadn’t even known it until a year later.

Lydia stirs her tea, a mischievous smile on her face. “Oh, Esma was the one who figured it out,” she remarks. “The Empress had a very, well,unique way of shaking hands. I’m not sure how to explain it, Vasco, may I borrow your hand?”

She quickly wipes her fingers on her napkin before taking Vasco’s hand in hers. “It was very slight, but once Esma pointed it out to me, I noticed she did indeed shake like this every time. She would tilt your hand like so, over once-” She turns her knuckles up, forcing Vasco to expose the underside of his wrist. “And would give it a bump, make them flex their wrist jut ever so slightly. Then she would turn it back down and actually shake. It was quite odd. I’ve never seen anyone shake hands like it.”

David covers his mouth as he coughs. “The reason she did that was to check for knives in the other person’s sleeve. I taught her that.”

Lydia releases Vasco’s hand. “That’s...rather paranoid. How often did you come across knives sewn into people’s sleeves?”

“She found five doing exactly that.” Many were coated in poison. They weren’t meant for stabbing her-a quick prick when they got close, during the handshake itself perhaps, skin broken and she’d be dead in a minute. “Maybe she found others when I wasn’t attending her. I’ve personally removed dozens of weapons from people who thought they were being sneaky.”

“...Oh. Well, I apologize if it seems I was making light of it.” She looks uncomfortable for a moment, but recovers. “Esma was greeting the guests, and she sidled up to me at the wine table and giggled that the Empress was here. Once she pointed you out, it was easy enough to see you two.”

“I thought we blended in.”

“If Esma hadn’t mentioned it, I never would have guessed it was her. You, it was entirely obvious you were her bodyguard and not her date. But I wouldn’t have imagined the Empress dumping an entire glass of Tyvian red down Treavor Pendleton’s backside.”

“You clearly didn’t know her that well.” Which one was Treavor again?

Lydia shrugs. “Apparently not. But I do know that she could never dance. Your shoes must have been filled with blood by the end of the night.” She takes a bite of her bread and chews thoughtfully, swallows before continuing. “We never mentioned it to anyone, David. Not even Waverly. We know what a scandal it would be-we were just happy for her, that she was able to slip away and have some fun. She always seemed like such a profoundly unhappy person.”

“Sabrina was plenty happy,” Anthony  retorts. “She acted cold because that’s what you all expected of her.”

Happy? Sabrina was a lot of things, sure. David couldn’t say she was cold. Even in her sternest moments, Sabrina was full of fire. Full of life. Anger and compassion. A burning desire to change things, to make things right. Fury at those who stood in her way. Rage.

He doesn’t know if she was happy. And it bothers David immensely that he’s never wondered before.

“Well,” Anthony  says, pressing rice grains through the tins of his fork. “If you took Sabrina, it’s only fair if you let me go.”

“We can watch his back!” Vasco says brightly, only to wince as Rose delivers a quick punch to his kidney. “Ow!”

“We’re not both going if Anthony  has to stay home,” she hisses.

Anthony  rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“It’s not about that, it’s about not being a cockwaffle.” She pushes herself to her feet. “Anyway, I got s**t to do. Starting with dishes. Lay ‘em on me.”

“Well, let me know if you decide to attend.” Lydia hands her plate over with grace. “I can tell you where all the secret rooms are, and help you during the ball if you need it. I’ll be the one in black.” She winks.

Anthony  leans forward. “You could give me an invitation too, and then David can’t stop me from going.”

“I think he can.”

“He’s not the boss of me.”

“I’m going to agree with David this time, Anthony ,” Lydia says with a gentle smile on her face. “This is a...tumultuous year. It will likely be dangerous, and the guestlist isn’t even half what it’s been previously. You can always come crash it next year.”

“If we’re all even alive by then,” Anthony  grumbles. David sighs exasperatedly.

“If I hear one more damn thing about this party, no one is going. Including Lydia.”

“Morning everyone.” Galia Catspaws over to their table, hiding her yawn behind her hand.

“What are you doing up?” Lydia c***s her head. “You never attend breakfast.”

“Don’t remind me.” She turns back to the rest of the group. “I met with one of my contacts a few hours ago, got stuck hiding from Watch and had to, uh...holy s**t, you’re getting fat.”

Rose pauses in her dish-gathering to stare at Galia blankly.

“You know,” David pipes up. “I used to tell Anthony  that if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

“You’ve literally never said that to me.”

“I mean…” Galia shakes her head. “f**k, you know what I mean.”

“No, I feel the same way. I haven’t seen my feet in days.” She sticks out her leg and waggles her foot. “My brother had to help me put my shoes on this morning because for all I know they don’t exist anymore.”

“They do, trust me. You kicked me in the face last night.”

“You just won’t get over that, will you?”

“So, like…” Galia tilts her head. “Are you sure there’s only one in there?”

Rose glowers at her belly. “There better be.”

Lydia puts her teacup down with a smile. “You’re a twin, sweetie. That means you’re likely to have more than one. That’s what Sokolov said when Esma was pregnant, though thankfully Maria was a singleton.”

“Fraternal twins carry an increased chance of multiples,” Vasco says. “You and Esma are identical twins, correct?”

Lydia blinks. “What?”

“I’m not having twins,” Rose huffs. “I already raised my brother. One more is about all I can stand.”

Joan snorts into her coffee. “Anybody want a free baby? Hey, you can offload your spare with Anthony , he needs one. And David loves babies.”

“No,” he mutters. “I’m just really good at finding them in the trash.”

That causes Joan to choke a bit, and Anthony  looks down at the ground. Rose lifts up the stack of dirty dishes and balances them on her belly as she turns to Galia. “Don’t you have, like, work to do or something?”

Galia rolls her eyes in an exaggerated fashion as Rose walks away.

“Don’t be mean to her, Fleet,” Anthony  says. “The whole baby thing has her stressed out. She gets weird about it.”

“Maybe she should have considered that before opening her legs,” Galia mutters.

David opens his mouth to retort, but Galia dumps something brown and rectangular into his lap, and David has to move to catch it before it flattens his junk.

“Anyway, I just walked over here to give you that.” Galia points. “The files we talked about?”

“What files?” Anthony ’s eyes flick down to the binder with suspicion.

Galia turns with her mouth already open, and David is quick to silence her.

“Nothing,” he says, pulling it off his lap and shoving it under his ass.

“Clearly it’s not.”

“I’ve been up all night,” Galia announces with a fake smile. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother me.”

“What were you guys talking about?” Anthony  asks after Galia’s walked away.

David just shakes his head. “Nothing you need to concern yourself over.”

“Everything is my concern, David. That’s literally my job title.”

“Not your job yet, Tommy-boy.” Joan takes another bite of bread and chews obnoxiously. “Just enjoy the last few weeks you have of f*****g off and having no responsibilities.”

“It’s Spymaster stuff,” David tells him. Anthony  gives him a pointed look.

“I haven’t made you my Spymaster.”

David presses his lips together. Anthony  quickly turns red and looks down. “I mean, I don’t really have anyone in mind. I’d have you, but you’ll be my Protector…”

“Why not both?” Lydia leans forward, chin resting on her linked fingers. “There’s no law against that, is there?”

Joan snaps her fingers. “f**k yeah, and that’s a surefire way to make sure the Spymaster doesn’t murder you like the last one!”

Vasco taps his fingernails against the table, brow creased with worry. “I don’t know, isn’t that sort of defeating the point of position? The Spymaster works in secrecy to provide a sort of check and balance, so to speak, so a single tyrannical Emperor or Empress couldn’t ruin us all. Or am I not understanding that correctly?”

“No, Vasco, you’re right.” Anthony  shakes his head. “But I don’t necessarily think that’s a conflict of interest. I’m sure that David would stop me if I became a warlord or something.”

David could never hurt Anthony . Never. He’d let the rest of the Empire burn before that.

“I wouldn’t really be against it,” Anthony  continues. “I just worry that it’ll be too much, juggling both positions. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

David looks down to the table. “About the other position,” he starts. No, he needs to say this to Anthony ’s face. He looks up. “I still don’t think I should be your Royal Protector.”

A dramatic gasp emits from Lydia’s direction, but Anthony ’s eyes don’t leave his. “David, we talked about this…”

“And my opinion still stands. I don’t think I’d be the best choice.”

“If this is because of what happened to Sabrina…”

“Is that it?” Lydia’s hand lowers from her mouth, her face going soft. “Oh, David, that wasn’t your fault.”

“f**k me, David.” Joan shakes her head. “We’re not doing this. You’re not blaming yourself for that bullshit.”

“Yes, David, they were witches. There was nothing you could have done differently. The Empress’s death was tragic, and the only person who could have stopped it was the Crow Queen herself.”

David just shakes his head. “It’s not about how I let Sabrina die, it’s-”

“You didn’t-”

“It’s not about her.” David silences Anthony  with a sharp look, and he pouts. “I told you. Politically, it’s a poor move. I’m old and a felon. That won’t reflect well on you.”

Joan raises her hand. “I mean, you’ll get the felon thing waived when you’re pardoned for the murder. Just saying.”

“The public opinion of me still isn’t very positive.”

“Yes, but-” Lydia pauses, nose wrinkling as she thinks. “Once everyone knows you didn’t kill the Empress, they’ll change their minds!”

“People didn’t really like me before that either.” David turns back to Anthony . “I told you, I’ll do it if you insist, but you’re better off picking someone else.” He waves his hand. “Promote Lizzy.”

Joan pauses in picking her nails with her fork. “Me? As Royal Protector?”

“It’s up to Anthony , but I’d vouch for you.”

She tilts her head. “Do I have to play nice with the rich f***s?”

“No…” David groans.

She slams her fork down on the table. “Then f**k yeah, I’m in!”

Anthony  actually starts to laugh, smiling a bit. “I like that idea too. But-” He turns back to David. “But I’d really...rather it be you.”

David presses his lips together and stares at the rim of Lizzy’s coffee cup.

“Can we...talk about it more later?”

“There’s nothing left to talk about,” David says, digging back into his breakfast. “If you want me to take the position, I’ll do it.”

“But I don’t want to force you-”

“I don’t want to do it, Anthony . That’s not going to change. Either order me to do it, or find somebody else. End of discussion.”

And David ignores the way Anthony ’s hands shake, the way his eyes stare at him until  Vasco awkwardly starts up another subject. Conversation resumes, David eats, and Anthony  starts to talk and laugh almost normally if David didn’t know him so well. Didn’t know his pauses, the way his eyes dart to him and away again, didn’t know him well enough to know it was all forced.

But he’s forgotten about the files.

‘Why have you lied?’ Sabrina presses him as David ascends the stairs, the parcel tucked under his arm. ‘He knows what you are doing. You’re deluding yourself to think he can be fooled so easily.’

“Not now, Sabrina,” David says tiredly. Then he pauses and checks behind him. Last thing he needs is someone overhearing him converse with his dead Empress.

Sabrina just thrums harder, her anger rolling off the Talisman as swiftly and mercilessly as the waves. ‘You’re each other’s only family. And you strain that bond with every swipe of your sword and every falsehood that rolls off your tongue.’

What did she want him to do, tell Anthony  about the Mark? About the Outsider, the Void? Tell him all the things David’s done? Tell him what’sreally happened to Sabrina?

No. Some things were not for Anthony  to know.

‘I know you do it for love, but you must know that you cannot protect us forever.’

“No,” David agrees. “But I can protect him from this.”

He locks the door and sets the binder on his desk. Really, David has no intention of keeping this information from Anthony  forever. David just doesn’t want to deal with the conversation that’ll result from telling him now. With discussing the Rat King.

He is David’s alone. Forget Anthony ’s plan to seek them out, have others capture them-David has no intention of allowing it to get that far. Starting a witchhunt for the two will put a target on Anthony ’s back, and while David is certain he’s capable of fending them off this time, there’s absolutely no way he will ever allow them that close. No way he’ll risk it.

David will find them and kill them before they can harm a single hair on Anthony ’s head. And then, afterwards, he’ll confess to Anthony  everything he knows. Because then they’ll be dead. Unable to hurt anyone.

And Sabrina will be free by then. The thought puts a knot in David’s stomach.

Sabrina, whose energy roils through him as he pops open the binder and spreads the contents out across his desk. She doesn’t need his consent, can form herself in his hand and speak her mind whenever she pleases, yet she’s asking him for permission.

And David is in no mood for it. “Shush, Sabrina. I’m busy.”

She settles down, discontent coloring the waves.

David pulls out his pen. His bonecharm that helps him filter out the excess noise that rattles around his brain, helps him focus.

And the little brown book bound in leather that Lydia gave him.

David is used to keeping logs, accounting ledgers when he was broke and little notes to himself, reminders to buy more ammo or that Sabrina needed new socks or whatever it was that he didn’t want to forget. Later on he wrote more, after he became Royal Protector and his days were filled with something more meaningful. Summaries of what they did that day, where they went, what Sabrina accomplished. Observations. Musings. Facts and the logical reasonings that followed them.

He never journaled. At least he didn’t like to think of it as such. He left emotions out of it. No point in writing that bullshit down, where anyone could read it and know everything.

But still, his logs were classified information. Anyone who managed to snoop through his room and found his log would have a detailed description of the Empress’s daily schedule and a fairly accurate calendar of her future obligations. Not to mention information about her health and her personal life-it just wasn’t good to leave yawning open for anyone to read, and David has never been smart enough to write in code with any fluency.

But when he was young, when David still lived with his mother, she taught him how she learned to write. Back in Pandyssia, though they had called their home something else. She showed him how they formed their letters, bits and pieces of the language she was desperately trying to hold onto.

It had confused him at first. The teachers at the school she sent him to had smacked his hand with rulers when he was learning to write in the Imperial style, when he’d cross the letters and write Pandyssian ones in their place. But eventually the two alphabets had melded rather nicely in his mind, and he could switch between the two with ease.

While his mother had taught him her way, he had taught her the new one. He didn’t realize it until he was an adult, but when he came home from school and she’d have him show her what he learned that day, she was trying to learn herself. She’d sit him in her lap and curl her hand around his as he wrote, rest her chin on the top of his head and whisper into his ear. Sometimes questions, sometimes encouragement, sometimes teasing. She was a harsh woman and certainly spared him nothing, but he could never call her cruel. It wasn’t like that. Not to him.

And f**k, it’s been over thirty years. He needs to get over her.

What his mother had taught him had come in handy years later. The Pandyssian alphabet, all strange loops and harsh angles. The finer points of the language have been lost in the space of his head, but he remembers those letters. Remembers how to use them, how to sound them out phonetically.

After seeing what Reed did with Delilah’s code, David knows his own his laughable. Anyone with a mind for it would be able to crack the code in minutes. And there were certainly more people in the Isles who knew the language, better than he did. Anyone smarter than David, which wouldn’t take much, would bypass his bullshit and be able to read his entries with ease.

But it made him feel better. Writing in his language, and using Pandyssian letters in place. And that’s how he’s been writing his log as of late.

Stupid s**t. Plans for after he becomes Spymaster. Discussing who among them could almost be trusted. He doesn’t talk about anything incriminating. Nothing about magic. Nothing about Sabrina.

It was purely for the purpose of organizing his thoughts, and that’s why David opens to the next blank page, dates it, and props it open while he unwraps and spreads the contents of the parcel over his desk. Slips the bonecharm into his breast pocket. Rose didn’t make this one for him-he found it outside in the river mud, and he’s still unsure if the tiny, hairline crack he can only just feel with the pad of his finger means it’s corrupted or not. It works well to help him concentrate, but it almost closes him off from the rest of the world while doing so. Last time he used it, he’d burnt his arm after holding it close to the stove while engrossed in his book, and hadn’t noticed the pain until Joan smacked him and pointed it out. It leaves him little control over the direction his concentration takes, often jumping off and hyper-focusing on different tangents until David dismisses them and guides himself back. And when he removes the charm, he gets wicked headaches that last for hours. He’s not sure if those are corruptions or features. Whichever the case, the charm is only worth using when he needs to concentrate on something important. Like now.

Whoever Galia’s contact at the archives was, they did well. The binder is packed with information. Incident documentation, autopsy results, crime scene sketches. Investigator notes and even medical records, dating several years before the incident. All details surrounding the circumstances that led up to, and the aftermath, of Stefan Attano murdering Catriona Kaldwin.

Thirty-seven times. David has to hold a hand to his chest when he reads that. He stabbed her thirty-seven times. He checks to see if he was using something smaller that would require multiple cuts, something that wouldn’t kill her right away, but no, he used his sword. He used his sword to stab her in the chest thirty-seven times.

The files containing sketches of their likenesses, but they spark no recognition in David’s memory. Attano has typical Serkonan features, tanned skin and a broadened nose, dark hair far past regulation length. Catriona looks like a Kaldwin. Round face, sharp, sculpted features. A beauty mark at her lip. Far prettier than Delilah. It’s a stark contrast to the sketches done of her corpse, rib bones exposed and covered in blood.

Looking back in the reports, David sees that Attano won the Blade Verbena, Karnaca’s prestigious dueling tournament, back in 1814 at the age of sixteen. Served on the Grand Serkonan Guard for two years before being sent to Dunwall and, surprisingly, working for Emperor Stark himself. Worked at the Tower for a year before the Emperor transferred him into Euhorn Kaldwin’s employ, to serve as his daughter’s bodyguard. So David knows that Attano had training. Probably had much of the same training David received himself.

David knew how to kill someone long before he ever worked for the Crown, and there was little they could have taught him about that. He got other things out of his lessons-how certain poisons tasted, how being sleep-darted felt, how to spot potential threats to his Empress’s safety. How to move and cover his charge so she wouldn’t be exposed while he fought an assassin off. The lessons on killing, those were largely useless. But through them, David knows what methods Attano had been educated on.

What most, dime novels and petty gossip, didn’t seem to take into account was that it took effort to kill someone. Human bodies were squishy, weaker and more fragile than most people like to admit, but they were not designed to die easily. Meat and bone could be cut, but there was resistance to the act. It required force, physical exertion that surprised David the first time he cut someone with a blade. You needed strength for it. David has plenty of muscle, and he’s been killing for so long that exercising them is like second nature. But it’s still physically taxing, an exercise of both mind and body.

Swords were designed to make people like David’s job easier. Long, kept razor sharp, handle molded to fit into a clutched fist. Engineered to make the act of killing all the less taxing on the person wielding it.

There’s reasons David usually goes for the throat. It’s soft, unprotected, and relatively little to go to accomplish your goal. The downside was that it was messy, but that’s why David wears gloves. With smaller blades he’ll often try for the eyes, little resistance and it promises a quick death. (No, Attano did go for the eyes. Once. So thirty-six stabs to the torso, and one inserted in her left eye, jerking his wrist until it cut through the front of her skull and partially severing her nose) The temples were also good targets. Thinnest part of the skull, under which flowed some of the most vital blood vessels, carrying life-sustaining blood to the brain. Objectively little force was required to pierce the bone, and the trauma to the brain would cause close to instant death.

Below the neck got a little trickier. David often aims for the stomach-less so now, as the idea makes his own turn over something awful. While flesh and muscle were still a chore to cut through, the stomach was at least unprotected by bone. The main problem being that the organs of the stomach, while of course being vital to the body’s continued function, rarely caused instant death in the event of their destruction. It would leave the victim to bleed out, during which time they could fight back, scream and attract attention, or even receive medical care that would undo his efforts. For that reason, when going for the stomach, David often aimed high and thrusted upwards. With luck and good aim, he’d pierce the lungs, or even the heart. Bypassing the hard bones that protected these organs, getting your blade between the ribs, that was a gamble, and if you bet wrong you’d be hitting bone. Which took a great deal more force to push through and would ultimately dull your blade all the faster.

David and Attano were both trained to kill fast, without resistance, keep it simple so they could return to guarding their charges. Targeting the neck, the stomach, the soft underside of someone’s chin. Fast, quiet, and with as little exertion on their part as possible.

Attano had employed none of that when killing Catriona.

He had hacked at her. Stabbed her in the chest over and over and over, hit bone and let it splinter off and chip his blade. An experienced swordsman like him should have known how to kill someone in one stroke, but even to a rookie who didn’t know where to hit, it would be hard not to kill someone after a couple blows with a standard-length blade.

She had already been dead. And he just kept stabbing.

That took energy. Standing there, cutting through bone, over and over again while blood slickened the hilt and slipped in his grasp. David can imagine being that angry, yes. Losing himself in the rage. He cannot imagine doing it to someone he loves.

Fuck, the thought of stabbing Sabrina just the once, one single stroke through her gut, left him physically nauseous. He can’t imagine doing it thirty-seven times. To keep going long after her screams had stopped, her voice silenced. After her eyes had gone dull and there was nobody in there to feel his blows. He’d have come to his senses at some point. He would have gotten tired. His arm would have started to hurt from the strain and he would have had to adjust his grip when the hilt became slippery with her blood.

Attano had lost his mind. Either that, or he truly and honestly hated Catriona Kaldwin.

David pages through the eye-witness report. The actual act of stabbing her, that had gone unseen. The two had gone for a walk. The Kaldwin residence apparently had a labyrinth built into their garden, eight-foot-high shrubbery and prickly flowers. They had weaved their way through the maze, coming to rest at the back, farthest from the rest of the grounds. Where the property bordered the cliffs, and overlooked the sea. David imagines Catriona was using the opportunity to formally break off their affair.

Guards stationed outside had heard Catriona scream. By the time they wove through the vegetation, her cries had pewtered out and she was lying there, her chest split open, bloody and raw. Dead.

Stefan Attano was standing over her, a bloody blade in his hand. He looked over to them. Made eye contact.

Then he dropped the sword, turned on his heel and swung his legs over the wall. And dropped.

Never even a word. Most of the reports refer to him as being very quiet-to the point where many thought he was mute. He was tall, built like a gymnast and skin the color of desert sand. A master swordsman. And there were whispers of black magic use, near the end.

His body was never found, of course. David’s been to the Kaldwin manor, knows the place the reports are talking about. They’d ripped out the labyrinth and David had no idea it was where Delilah’s sister had been murdered, but he remembers the cliffs. The drop-off. A sharp decline, jagged rocks, and pounding waves strong enough to pulverize bone. It would have been dangerous to send boats out. Not worth it, for the body of one Serkonan guard. It doesn’t surprise him that nothing was ever pulled from those waters.

Because who would have thought Stefan Attano would survive that fall?

If David thinks on it, he’s sure Attano never even hit the water. There had been a plan in place to save him, and gambling with his chances on the rocks didn’t fit into that. If Attano had really tried to kill himself, he wouldn’t have stopped there. He would have climbed back up and jumped again. Would have swam further out to sea and drowned himself. David would have.

No, Attano didn’t jump to his death, and he knew it at the time. But that didn’t...fit.

If he went by the storyline the Watch had constructed, the motive behind the killing was jealousy. A crime of passion, a spontaneous murder after Catriona ended their affair. He snapped, killed her, and then killed himself to escape from his crimes. Exactly what David had supposedly done, except he wasn’t given the opportunity to haul himself over the wall and throw himself to the tides.

Only it wasn’t spontaneous. Couldn’t have been, if Attano had safeties in place, some way for him to survive the drop. He had planned to do it.

Why?

David supposes he could have known Catriona planned to break up with him. She might not have even done it that day-or if she did, it could have been a coincidence. But that takes the ‘blind rage’ explanation out. A rage like that, one that blocks out your senses and leaves you a slave to your own thoughtless anger, that was an explosion. A hot, bright, horrific burn. But those fires can’t maintain themselves. They burn up. You couldn’t nurse one for days, making plans and keeping cool to avoid suspicion. It didn’t work like that.

This was a slow burn. Like burning a wet log, slower and colder, but it would get into your lungs and choke you dead all the same.

He doesn’t know how the fire was ignited. Frankly, David doesn’t care. Whether he loved her or not, whether it was out of jealousy or hatred, David doesn’t care. Catriona Kaldwin has been dead for years. It’s over.

He wants to know how Delilah got involved. Because he’s positive, completely and utterly convinced, that she had a hand in this. The similarities between Catriona’s murder and Sabrina’s assassination, the fact that no one stood to gain more from Catriona’s death than Delilah herself. There was just no way she hadn’t. Had she simply seen Attano’s discontent and took advantage? Or had she turned him against Catriona, turned him into a murderer, turned him into the Rat King he’d become?

And what of the Crow Queen? If there wasn’t a pile of evidence to the contrary, David might believe the Crow Queen to be Delilah herself, but he knows they’re separate people. Was she involved in all of this, or did she come later?

David thinks on that little girl. Emily. She was Stefan’s daughter, could be no one else. He hadn’t gotten a great look at her, during the maelstrom of images and emotions that moment was, with her hand covering half her face in a childish imitation of a pirate. Dark hair, round face, a wide-set button nose. Her skin just a smidge darker than your typical Gristolian.

She couldn’t be that young. She had looked around Reed’s age, and that would put her birth...before Catriona’s death? Around that time, at least. He isn’t about to start counting down on his fingers for this.

David had assumed her mother was the Crow, but then, he could be incorrect. He doesn’t know how they met, but Attano clearly loved the woman, and if she had been Emily’s mother it meant Attano moved on damn fast. Or he’d never been that attached to Catriona and the killing was purely political. Or he could have been f*****g the Crow at the same time. Any explanation worked, really.

But...he has no proof the Crow is Emily’s mother at all. He flags that line in his journal, just in case. He can come back to the theory later.

It really didn’t matter who her mother was. All it told him was that Attano was involved with someone else, either before Catriona’s murder or directly after it. That could be evidence against the ‘crime of passion’ excuse, supporting David’s theory that Delilah paid him to kill Catriona. He supposes Delilah could have sent one of her witches to seduce him as well, like she did for David.

Delilah’s mysterious absence before her sister’s murder comes to mind. David had scoffed at the rumors that she was off having a child, but that…

Oh.

Oh, gross.

Okay, David thinks, after he finishes dry-heaving. He has no proof Attano had an affair with Delilah as well, but it...fit. Fit nicer than he’d like.

Emily would be around eleven, then. Ugh, Delilah had a baby? How did she do that when she was approximately 0% body fat? How did her stomach just snap back? If he thought she’d give him anything to use as an answer, he’d ask Sabrina if Delilah had any stretch marks or scars on her belly-women always did after pregnancy, didn’t they? He saw Rose’s when she was being treated by Trimble, and his mother had numerous lightning-bolt marks on her stomach David used to trace with his short little fingers. He’s surprised Delilah was even able to conceive, as skinny as she was. Sabrina couldn’t menstruate when he first met her, even though she was old enough, she was so thin. She only started bleeding after David managed to put some weight on her-freaked the f**k out, of course, since her worthless mother never taught her anything apparently. One of the few times David wished he had been normal and married a woman so she could deal with that. He thinks he ended up just buying her some tea and chucking a book about it at her head. Quality nurturing. How Sabrina put up with him, he’ll never know.

Detracting again. David flags the line about Delilah being Emily’s mother as well. After staring at the page for a moment, he leans over and pulls open the drawer with all his ‘evidence’, the various pieces and notes he’s found regarding his missions. He picks up the Crow Queen’s throwing knife, but only to set it aside. He’s already examined it thoroughly. It unfolds into three blades, though David hasn’t been able to figure out how to trigger that mechanism without nicking himself as he did. Or how that would really make the knife any more useful. There’s no insignia, no factory stamps. Just the blades and a carved whalebone handle. It tells him nothing.

The instruction sheet Delilah gave to her witches gets fished out, flattening it atop his desk. The way Delilah signs off still makes his stomach clench in anger, but he pays attention to the wording. No, she only refers to Emily as Stefan’s daughter. But she also refers to herself as the Empress, so keeping with reality isn’t a predominant theme here.

It would certainly explain why she was trying to kidnap the girl. David thought it was to get back at the King and Queen, but he supposes it could just be a really weird, arcane custody battle. Foisting their daughter off on Stefan to raise would make sense from Delilah’s standpoint. Being a young, unmarried mother wouldn’t have killed her political career, not like it would have a few decades earlier, but it would certainly throw a wrench in it. Not to mention kids were time-consuming. David should know. Even with maids and governesses and the like, they still needed attention, time Delilah likely couldn’t be bothered to give. But if Stefan was actively campaigning against Delilah, obviously she’d have to take Emily back.

He presses his lips together as he makes his notes. So, if all his theories were correct, Delilah had seduced Stefan Attano much like she had seduced Sabrina. Had his child. Convinced him to kill her sister. If he put that information out, it would certainly quash any loyalty the people might have for her. Not that Delilah really needs help earning the ire of the Empire. The only people who don’t openly despise her are either too afraid to declare it or are benefitting from her in some way, or both. And her witches, but the witches are dead women walking.

Back to how it relates to Attano. He can do nothing but make wild guesses as to how Attano met the Crow Queen,  how they amassed their criminal empire. There’s still the old mystery-how they both bore the Mark. Had they been Marked after joining forces, or was the fact that they were both Marked the reason the started working together in the first place? He can infer that they had likely worked with Delilah before, that Sabrina’s assassination hadn’t been a one-time thing.

Apparently, however, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back when it came to their working relationship. Delilah was their enemy now. Their shared enemy.

Whoever said that the enemy of his enemy was supposed to be his friend had never known hatred like David does.

He doesn’t really give a s**t if they regret it, if they’re fighting Delilah to make up for what they did. Sabrina is dead no matter what their feelings on the matter is. They can redeem themselves when they bring Sabrina back to him. Barring that, David will hate them through the end of time.

He taps the end of the pen against the page. So now he has a name. The name of a dead man. Knowing Stefan Attano is the Rat King takes a weight off his mind, the questions burning in the back of his skull for several days now, but it gives him little edge. He still doesn’t know where they are. He still doesn’t know how to kill them.

Delilah would. She had scouts out looking for them, but David’s sure she has an inkling of where their base is located. And she must have ideas on how they can be killed.

He’ll have to find her office, comb through her files when he returns to the Tower to kill her. He could do it after Anthony  is crowned, sure, but that’ll be a few days after the fact. They had planned to lie low for a week or so, wait for the Watch and the Overseers to rise up and snuff out Delilah’s now-powerless witches before allowing Anthony  back into the fold. Quashing fires, Trimble had referred to it as, and they needed to make sure their new Emperor wouldn’t be hit by the embers. And as much as David dislikes the thought of hiding away while someone else does the dirty work, Anthony ’s safety is now, and forever will be, his highest priority.

He doesn’t want to risk someone stealing or accidentally throwing away the information he sought. And he doesn’t want to crown an Emperor with the threat of them hanging over their heads. He will not give them the opportunity to hurt Anthony . He’d stay here, safe and hidden, preparing to take his sister’s throne and David would eliminate the threat before Anthony  knew one was posed to him.

Delilah might hold a secret to their weakness, David thinks as he pages through the notes another time. But that’s if things go smoothly. And David has learned better than to count on things going smoothly. He needs to formulate a plan, a way to ensure that the Crow Queen and the Rat King die by his hand in the days immediately after he kills Delilah.

Then Anthony  could be crowned. He would be safe. David could let Sabrina go. The plague would be cured and this nightmare will meld into daylight. And David could focus on living out the rest of his sad little life.

He’s losing focus again. Obviously, he doesn’t want to involve Joan again, doesn’t want to put anyone else in danger. But the circumstances might demand it. The Queen and King, they’re his, but he might need help with their Cardinals. He can ask his Bonded for that. Lizzy, Paul, and Galia could keep them at bay while David dealt with the bosses.

The memory of the Rat King getting his hands on Lizzy, choking her and threatening them and watching her squirm and suffer at his hand, it burns in his mind. But it won’t be like that again. He’ll keep them away from her. Just David and them.

And...he could take a page out of their book.

The girl was key. David’s loathe to bring her into this-he had one rule during his time as a thief and sort-of mercenary. No kids. He absolutely refused to hurt children. That was his line, and he’d abandoned jobs before after finding out kids were involved. As wicked as he’s become, David still wouldn’t stoop low enough to hurt a child. It wasn’t Emily’s fault that her parents were monsters.

But he didn’t need to hurt her. David doesn’t have it in him to harm a little girl, even the daughter of two people he hates most in the world, but her father doesn’t know that. He just needed to make it look...he could get the King to stand down, just like they almost had him, and then it would be easy, so easy-

“David.”

David scrambles to shove the papers back, but stops himself when he realizes how suspicious that looks. Instead he just shuts his journal, sets down his pen under Anthony ’s watchful eye.

“I’m busy, Anthony .”

“We need to talk.”

“Where’s Vasco and Rose?” David turns to him.

“They have their own stuff to do. Their lives don’t revolve around me.”

Not true. Vasco doesn’t have any chores besides the ones he volunteers for, and Rose is purposely given few chores because David talked to Gerald. Her main job was to entertain Anthony  now. Not that she minded-or that he’d tell Anthony  that.

“It’s just that you three seem pretty friendly-”

“They’re out at the mall, okay, I asked them to leave me alone.” Anthony  blows air out of his mouth. “Quit trying to beat around the bush. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were.” David begins to organize the papers into piles. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“No, you’re going to tell me some things. And you’re going to start with what was in that package Galia gave you this morning. Now.”

David pauses, his hands coming to rest on the edge of his desk. He slides his eyes over to Anthony ’s figure at the side of the room. “Don’t speak to me that way, Anthony .”

“Why not?” Anthony ’s arms are crossed, his face turning a deeper shade of pink as he stares David down. “I’m the Emperor now, I can do what I want.”

“You might be an Emperor, but I’m still-” David stops and swallows, turning his eyes back to the desk. “I’m still the person who raised you. Respect me for that, at least.”

Anthony  looks to the floor, his cheeks burning. David stands up and starts tucking the papers back into the binder.

“So what are those?” Anthony ’s voice is quieter now, even.

“I told you, it’s my business.” David’s hand hovers over the clasp. He’ll know eventually. Bite the bullet. “If it really makes you feel better, you can look at it.”

Anthony  scrambles over, fingers fumbling with the clasp as he cracks the binder open with one hand and digs out the first few pages. David watches his face turns to confusion. “The Kaldwin murder? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because your sister wasn’t the first noblewoman Delilah had killed,” David says, his voice hard. Anthony  looks up at him and David has to turn away. “And I think Stefan Attano is still alive.”

“You think?”

“No. I know he is.”

Anthony  watches his suspiciously as he shoves the papers back. “How? What does he have to do with anything?”

“It’s complicated, Anthony -”

“I’m banning several phrases from this conversation, including that one along with ‘you don’t need to know’ and ‘don’t worry about it’.”

That was fair.

“Can I say I’ll tell you later?” Anthony ’s face is stone.

“No. Try again.”

“It really is complicated,” David tells him, motioning with his hands. “As in, we’d be here for several hours explaining shit.”

“Then give me the short version.”

Okay, fine. If Anthony  wants to be left hopelessly confused, he’ll let him. “He’s a witch, and he helped kill your sister. And furthermore, I’m pretty sure he had an affair with Delilah and fathered her daughter.”

“Delilah has a…” Anthony  pauses, then presses a finger to his mouth. “She did say...that definitely fits.”

David scoops up his parcel and journal and turns away. Anthony  opens his mouth before he’s taken his first step.

“How do you know any of this?”

“Anthony , I promise you, once I have proof I’ll lay it all out.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

David lifts up his mattress and shoves both pieces underneath. Anthony  will surely try to get his hands on his journal-good f*****g luck while David’s asleep on top of it.

“David, I’m serious. Why are you keeping secrets from me all of a sudden?”

“Because, Anthony ,” David sighs, exasperated. “Some things are better for you not to know.”

“I’m not a child, alright, I’m about to be in charge of an Empire.” Anthony  huffs. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

“Then why won’t you tell me? Wouldn’t it be easier than arguing with me about it?”

David reaches out and presses his palm against the wall. “No.”

“Is my questioning not annoying enough? Because I can ramp it up until you get tired of it.”

“Anthony …” David closes his eyes. “For the last time. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I do!”

“Well that’s too bad!” David turns on his heel, pointing at his chest in earnest. “Because sometimes I have to choose what’s best for the both of us!”

“Seriously? You haven’t fed me that line since I was twelve.”

“Well, you haven’t earned it until now.”

Anthony ’s nose wrinkles as he grimaces. “I’m an adult, David.”

“You’re not, actually.”

“I’m close enough, okay? And apparently I’m mature enough to sit on a throne and deal with all the other bullcrap nobody else feels like bothering with!” Anthony  throws up his hands. 

So what, I’m old enough for that, but not old enough to be respected as an adult?”

“You saw what your sister had to deal with. You know that’s the case.”

Anthony  scoffs. “But you actually went to bat for her! You fought for people to respect her! And now you’re the worst offender! I’m older than she was!”

David closes his eyes. “That’s different.”

“How?!”

“It just is, Anthony .”

“And there you go again.” Anthony  shakes his head, looks off to the far wall. “Evading my questions, giving me useless answers. What am I supposed to do when I’m in court and somebody brushes me off like that?”

“They won’t,” David growls. “They’ll give you the respect you deserve. I’ll ensure that.”

“But you don’t need to respect me?”

“I respect you! But my business is my business, it doesn’t concern you or your job so you have no right to be butting into it!”

“It’s my business when I’m stuck here wondering if you’ll come back alive!” Anthony  yells. “And if you die, it’ll be because of me! It haseverything to do with me! So if you’re not going to tell me as Anthony , then as your Emperor I command you-”

Then David shifts. He only means to cross his arms, roll his eyes-a childish reaction, he knows. Disrespectful and juvenile, but not threatening.

But Anthony  doesn’t know his intent. Anthony  only sees the shift in posture, sees David raise his hands ever-so-slightly.

And Anthony  flinches.

David pauses, his mouth slack. Anthony  shrinks away, his body stiff, fear played across his expression. Fear of him.

David has never hit Anthony . Hit Sabrina, yes. Always regretted it immediately, and not just because the Emperor would have had him whipped within an inch of his life if he’d ever caught David raising a hand to his daughter. She pushed all his buttons-some of which she installed herself-but it was never her fault when he lost his temper. It was his responsibility to keep his anger in check. Never hers.

Anthony  used to cry when he and Sabrina fought, cried at the screaming and the blows. But David never turned it on him. There were little things, smacking his hand away at the dinner table, yanking him by the back of his shirt when he nearly stepped out into traffic, things David had certainly done with a little more force than necessary. But they weren’t done with the intent of hurting him.

He can’t stomach the thought of intentionally causing Anthony  harm. Of punching him, slapping him across the face, hitting him hard enough to leave bruises on his body. It makes him just as sick as he is remembering all the bruises he left on Sabrina’s. Up and down her arms, the back of her shoulders and at her ribs. The side of her face.

But he’s never raised a hand to Anthony . He has no reason to be afraid of David. Something occurred that gave him reason, and David wants to know what. Who. Why.

But Timsh is dead, and Delilah will soon follow. And showing his anger now is not going to make Anthony  feel any better.

David takes a step back. Flattens his hands out, presses them against his thighs. Where Anthony  can see them. “Let a man have his secrets, Anthony .”

“Why do you want to keep secrets from me? I’m your…” Anthony  swallows. “Why can’t you trust me?”

“It’s not about trust. It’s about respect. Do you want to talk about secrets?” David’s fingers dig into the fabric of his pants. “Do you think I don’t wonder what Delilah put you through? That I’m not curious about what you do when you disappear for hours with your friends? Because I have plenty of questions, Anthony ! And I don’t ask them out of respect for you!”

“You want to know my secrets, then?” Anthony  holds his arms out to his side. “You want to know what happened to me at Timsh’s? Fine, I’ll tell you everything! I’ll tell you that they tried to keep me drugged up so I’d be easier to deal with, and they only stopped because I wouldn’t eat or drink anything until they did! I’ll tell you that Timsh would come up when he was drunk to yell at me and let his guards ‘discipline’,” he makes little airquotes along with the words. “Me when he thought I was being too loud. Called me a brat and a bastard. And when I’d complain about my arm hurting he’d just twist it and laugh at me! You know, once I hid behind the door and hit him with a chair when he came in. I couldn’t get down the stairs fast enough and he dragged me back in, had four guards beat me until I passed out! I couldn’t move for two days!”

“That’s not what I wanted…” David holds his hands up.

Anthony , however, is unfettered. The words spill out, a barrage of pain. All the emotions Anthony  has kept bottled up for months, since the day his sister was murdered and he ceased being a child. “And you want to know about Delilah?” he asks, swerving his head to stare up at David accusingly. “She didn’t really give me much of her time, busy ‘putting out Sabrina’s fires’, she called it. But when she did she’d try and convince me that you’d been raping Sabrina all her life, like I wouldn’t have noticed that when we all shared a bed. She told me that you had hired those assassins, to punish us both. And I defended you! Every time, I called her a liar, because I knew you! Or I thought I knew you!”

David presses his fingers to his chest. “You know me! I couldn’t have-” But then the words thicken in his throat and David can’t get them out.

Anthony  just shakes his head. “And then, of course, she’d turn on a dime.” He flicks his hand out, disgusted. “Then she’d call me names, threaten to cut off my fingers. She’d tell me you were both dead. She told me that she cracked open your chest and ate your heart, that she threw you into the sewers afterwards. She told me she f****d herself with Sabrina’s hand. Said she poked her fingers through her eye sockets and violated her corpse. Then she’d tell Timsh not to worry what he did to me there! She’d make it so I’d forget everything! I wouldn’t remember any of it! But I do! I remember it all!” Anthony  breathes hard, shaking, before lifting his hand up to point at David accusingly. “So there. I told you all my grisly secrets. Now I get to ask for yours.” He lowers his voice and speaks through gritted teeth. “What did they do to you in Coldridge?”

David just stares at him. There’s no words on his tongue, nothing worthy of saying. Not after that.

“What did they do to you in Coldridge?” Anthony  accuses. His fists clenched at his side, shaking. Then he rolls his shoulders back, takes in a deep breath. “They burned you,” he says methodically. “I know that, I saw your scars. What else?”

“That’s it.” David’s tongue sticks in his mouth, but he’s found his voice.

“No! I know for a fact it’s not! You don’t sleep well, you toss and mumble s**t that could give me nightmares. Nurse Trimble says you’re taking three times the normal morphine dose and you’re sneaking it behind his back. He has concerns about how reckless you’re acting, David, you can’t hide this stuff from me!”

David’s voice shakes. “Trimble had no business telling you any of that.”

“I would have found out eventually!” Anthony  throws his hands up. “I’m not judging you, David, but you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. Tell me, or write it down or something. Just quit pretending like you’re untouchable because you’re not!”

“I’m not…” David huffs. “You don’t need to be thinking about me that way.”

“Why, because I can’t handle it?”

“No! I can’t-”

“I handled thinking you were dead, okay, I can handle this!”

“It’s not about-”

“You’d tell me if I was Sabrina!”

The room goes quiet. Anthony  stares at him with wildfire in his eyes, his fists shaking at his side.

David’s lungs are like blocks of stone, and he’s unable to tear his eyes away from Anthony . His mouth is wired shut; he has no way to retort.

The horrible thing is...he’s right. If the roles were reversed, if Anthony  was the one who died and David was hiding Sabrina away in here, he would tell her everything.

He would want to tell her. He would have told her about the Mark. Would have ranted about what a prick the Outsider was. Would have been bursting to talk to her every time he uncovered a new piece of information, hear her thoughts, combine their brainpower and come up with new theories together.

David knows he’s always acted like he favored Sabrina over Anthony . Even before she was the Emperor’s daughter, before she became everyone’s  favorite, he knew he acted like he preferred her company. He always felt bad about that.

But it just wasn’t true. He cared for Anthony  just as much. He just didn’t get him like he got Sabrina.

David hates to think that he and Sabrina were similar people. She was so, so much better than him in every way. He’s never really been able to explain their relationship with words-he could never grasp quite how her brain worked, could never predict her. But it didn’t matter.

The best way to describe it was that they had an understanding, a mutual understanding of each other’s thoughts and souls. There were no barriers between them. They could speak their minds freely. With her, he found himself spilling secrets he’d kept since childhood, his innermost thoughts that were sometimes hard to admit even to himself. He’s never shared a connection with anyone like the one he had with her.

She’d know how to help him, know better than David ever would. She wouldn’t chastise him for putting himself in danger. She might make fun of him, insult him, and he’d bite back and they both would mean every harsh, cruel word. But it wouldn’t matter. It was how they were. It didn’t mean they liked each other any less for it.

Sabrina would understand his anger. Understand it a little too well, internalize it to the point of David’s discomfort. She wouldn’t...pity him. Not in the way Anthony  does. Not in front of him.

She would still feel it. He would still be saddling her with his own bullshit, but she’d act strong, just as he does. Maybe that wasn’t right. Wasn’t good for either of them. But David can’t stand the looks of concern Anthony  gives him, the sympathy.

He was so, so selfish. He was saddling them with his own issues either way, unfairly. It wasn’t Sabrina’s burden to bear either. But David can’t watch what the weight of the truth does to Anthony . He can’t watch someone break down over him when David can’t do it himself.

It wasn’t about Anthony . It wasn’t even about Sabrina. It was all about him.

But none of that comes out. When David finds his voice, it’s only to say, “That’s not true.”

Anthony  scoffs. “There you go, lying to me again.” He turns away, wrapping his arms around his midsection. “Well, Sabrina’s not here anymore. I have to take her place, so I’m going to have to be just as strong as she was.”

“It’s not about you being strong, I’m not-” David’s voice breaks, and he has to breathe deeply, counting the beats, as he tries to get himself under control. “Please, Anthony , I’m trying to protect you.”

“Why,” he says evenly, his back still facing David. “do you think I need more protection than her?”

“You don’t.” David swallows. “It’s not about you. It’s about me.”

“What about you?” Anthony  whirls around. “You never talk about you! You don’t talk about the things you do out there with Lizzy! You don’t talk about what you’ve had to do to put me on that throne!”

“We’re not-”

“You’ve never told me anything about your parents, or why you left Serkonos! You never told me how you ended up in Dunwall!” Anthony  lists off on his fingers. “You’ve never told me how you got that scar. You never told me why Sabrina was with you, why either of us were living with you in the first place! You never tell me about what you keep locked up in that desk! You’re always on your guard, even moreso than you were when Sabrina was alive!” He waves his good arm. “The only person you don’t treat like a ticking bomb is Lizzy! You brood everywhere, you’re always in pain, and you act like you’re not even a bit sad that Sabrina is dead!” Tears are falling from Anthony ’s eyes, but he makes no move to wipe them away, nothing to indicate he even notices. “I’ve never kept secrets from you-if anything, I should be the one not trusting you! You don’t act like you should be trusted, and I’m sick of being taken for a fool! I don’t deserve this, David! You can’t just keep these things from me! It’s not fair!”

He stops then, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle his choked sob. Anthony  squeezes his eyes shut, breathes in and out.

David just watches as Anthony  collects himself. What can he say? He knows Anthony  is right. He knows Anthony  deserves better than this, than him. And he knows that when Anthony  opens his mouth again, David does not have the willpower to lie to him again.

But when Anthony ’s breathing has evened out, when his tears have stopped flowing and he’s brushed the ones on his face away, Anthony  looks up at him with eyes more suspicious than truly angry. And nothing can prepare David for what comes out of his mouth.

“Are you my father?”

David blinks. Stares. Curls his fingers just to ensure he’s still there and hasn’t astral-projected out of his body some way.

“What?”

“You heard me!” Anthony  flushes, looks to the ground. But then he looks back up, peers at David through his eyelashes, and says it slower. Accusingly. “Are you my father?”

Slowly, David steps forward. His mouth is open, but his mind is blank. No thoughts to organize, to put into words, to tell him. He reaches out to grip his bedpost, just something to anchor to as he lowers himself onto his mattress.

“Anthony …” David groans, leaning forward and putting his face in his hands.

There’s footsteps from Anthony ’s direction. “It’s okay if you-”

“No!” he yells, letting his hands drop. “No. Oh my god, no.” He turns, looks Anthony  in the eye and shakes his head. “I’m not, Anthony .”

Anthony  stares at him for several long beats. Then his eyes start to water again, and he speaks in a voice so low it might as well be a whisper. “Why not?”

And David’s voice catches in his throat, and there’s literally nothing he can think of to retort.

Anthony  looks to the ground again, trying to hold back more tears. David purses his lips together before waving his hand. “Anthony . Come over here. Sit down.”

He does without a word, morosely sinking onto the bed without taking his eyes off the floor. David almost reaches for his hand, but hesitates. He doesn’t know how to do this. He can’t read people. Twelve years of knowing Anthony , and David still doesn’t know how to comfort him.

Why the f**k does he want David to be?

“You’re sure?” Anthony  breaks the silence. He looks up, staring at David like a kicked puppy. “You’re absolutely sure?”

“I’m not sure how it can be up for debate.”

“I know how babies are made, David. You’re the one who told me.” Anthony  stares him down as David shifts in his seat. “Maybe you’re not sure, but-”

“Anthony , I’ve had s*x with two women in my entire life,” David blurts out. Then he turns red. Shoves his face into his hands.

“So I could be-”

“Both of them were long before you would have been conceived,” he says so quickly he nearly trips over his tongue. “So no. There’s no chance.”

He almost says ‘and neither of them were your mother’ but, well, he doesn’t actually know that.

Anthony  blinks at him. “When was this?”

“I was eighteen,” David says carefully, shoving his hands in between his thighs. “They were both whores. I paid them for it. And I didn’t knock them up, believe me. They charge extra for that.”

He actually knows because he did some work for the brothel, both before and after. He’d been sort-of friends with one of them, which was why he went to her first. He was still around for months afterwards, doing odd jobs for the Madame and occasionally acting as security when they needed extra muscle. One of them had a birthday in that time, and he bought her flowers. He looked out for the girls, them just a little more than others. Felt like the right thing to do-a few of his mother’s lessons made it with him to adulthood. In any case, he stuck around long enough to know that he certainly hadn’t gotten either of them pregnant.

David doesn’t mention the fact that he also paid a man to f**k him during this period of his life. It hadn’t done anything for him either, and it didn’t matter for the purpose of their conversation. Everything before that...that wasn’t the type of copulation that Anthony  was talking about anyway. Not worth mentioning.

And everything with the witches...what they did to him didn’t count.

“Very funny.” Anthony  crosses his legs, staring at the floorboards with a morose expression.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” He knows of at least six instances where a w***e let a client pay to impregnate her.

Anthony  doesn’t answer. David takes the leap and scooches a bit closer.

“Anthony , you-” He pauses, checks behind him to ensure nobody had entered without him noticing. “You know Sabrina’s not really your sister, right?” he says in a low voice.

“I remember that part,” Anthony  says quickly. “No, I remember Sabrina lying to the Emperor. And I remember you coaching me on what to say. I just never really cared that much.”

Good. It didn’t really matter anyway. Anthony  and Sabrina grew up together, loved each other-for all David cared, that made them siblings, blood be damned. He knows Sabrina never saw him as anything less than her brother.

“So you remembered that, but not…” David presses his lips together, trying to formulate the question.

Anthony  just sits there, and offers up nothing.

“How long has this bothered you?” he asks, watching Anthony ’s profile carefully. Anthony  just shrugs.

“Since forever, I guess.”

“Define forever.”

“Almost as long as I can remember.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his head. “When we were on the streets and stuff, I don’t think I really questioned it. You were the person who took care of Sabrina and me. I never really thought of what that made you in relation to us.” He shrugs. “I don’t think I understood what a father was, is what I’m trying to get at.”

David never really knew either. He’s been faking this guardian thing since day one.

“But after we found out who Sabrina really was…” Anthony  combs his hands through his hair, pulling it over his shoulder. He’ll need a haircut before the coronation. “I guess...hearing about how she was related to him, the concept of real parents, that made me question things. She had a father, and she had you. So I knew they were two separate roles, but I didn’t really understand where to go from there.”

“Shouldn’t be different roles,” David grumbles, but then he shakes his head. “Sorry. Go on.”

That almost gets a smile out of Anthony . He tucks one leg under him and swings his free one, letting the underside of his shoe brush over the ground. “I guess that was sort of the period where I started questioning my relationship with you, but I didn’t, you know, think about it too much at first. But then I’d see the Emperor be so nice to Sabrina, smile at her and kiss her on the cheek like he did, and it would...upset me. I’d feel angry, I just…”

“You wanted that for yourself,” David finishes quietly.

Anthony  stares at the floorboards for a long minute. “That sounds horrible, doesn’t it?” he finally says, turning his head towards David. “I sound selfish.”

“No.”

“It was stupid. I had you.” Anthony  pulls his other leg up onto the bed, criss-crossing them and wrapping his hands around his ankles. “And the Emperor was plenty nice to me. I had more than almost every other kid in the Isles.”

“Anthony , you weren’t being selfish for wanting a real parent. You were a kid.”

“But I had a real parent,” he says, jabbing his finger into David’s sternum. “I figured, if everyone had a father out there, then mine must be you. I couldn’t imagine who else it would be. But…” Anthony  trails off, and David presses Anthony ’s hand between his own. “But it’s not you.”

David brings Anthony ’s hand to his lips. Breathes over the heat of his fingers. “No.”

Anthony  looks to the side, but doesn’t pull away. “Then who is?” he asks in a small voice.

David shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Anthony  takes his hand back then, and David drops it. He folds his fingers together nicely in his lap, blinking at the floorboards a few times. “You said you found me in the trash.”

“Not like that,” David says hurriedly. He pushes his hand through his thinning hair. “You were looking for food. You were little, but you weren’t a baby.”

“How little?”

“I don’t...actually know. Sabrina and I, we made our best guess. You might not be exactly seventeen.”

“I don’t really care about that. When did you find me?”

“About a year...no, not quite that long before we moved to the Tower.” David taps his finger against his chin. “It was autumn. I remember because it was a constant battle to get you to wear actual clothes, and I was worried about keeping you warm.”

That gets a laugh out of Anthony , a real one. It’s short, and the smile disappears from his face quickly, but it was there.

“We tried to find your parents,” David tells him. “I tried for two months. And the only reason I stopped looking was because we had to move to a new district.”

“I couldn’t tell you?”

“You wouldn’t talk, Anthony . You remember the ‘Dammit Sabrina’ story. That was the first time I ever heard you speak, and that was monthsafter I took you in.”

Anthony  looks off, quiet. David taps his fingers along the quilt folds.

“Do you remember anything? From before?”

“No. Shouldn’t I?” He stares at David with pitiful eyes. “Like you said, I wasn’t a baby.”

“Is there...what’s the earliest thing you remember?” It’s a fine line David’s walking, he knows. Whatever happened in Anthony ’s old life, chances are those memories were truly and completely gone. But if they weren’t, if David’s prodding jogged things better left forgotten, there would be no going back. And he would never forgive himself if he made Anthony  remember things he had forgotten for a reason.

Did everyone really have a concrete ‘first memory’ anyway? David’s was watching his mother drive a knife into the thigh of a man outside the ramshackle lean-to they were living in at the time. He thinks it’s the harshness of the memory that made it stick in his mind, the shock. But David’s been aware from a young age that his brain didn’t work quite right, not in line with others. He might just be weird.

He never did find out what that man did to deserve his mother stabbing him, but he’s sure he earned it.

Anthony ’s nose wrinkles in concentration. “I think it was...no, it was splashing in a rain puddle. With Sabrina.” He lets a smile grow across his face. “It was a really big one, we were on the sidewalk and she grabbed my hand. Put a finger to her lip, said that David was going to be so mad when he saw this.”

Doubtful. David never really cared about her dirtying her clothes. Boots were meant to get muddy, and he knew how to do laundry. Made her do it too.

“We jumped. And I just remember-” Anthony  holds his arms out. “It was so much deeper than we thought. Sabrina was up to her knees, the mud nearly reached my chest. I got it in my mouth and hair and Sabrina was trying to quick scrub it off my face before you turned around. And then you did, and you stared at us and stared at her, and she stared back and you just turned and walked away without a word. And I...I…” His shoulders slump. “I miss her so much.”

“I know.” David curls his fingers. “All of Dunwall misses her.”

He doesn’t remember all that, with the mud and Sabrina intentionally trying to annoy him, but she was always trying to get on his nerves. David used to think she was trying to push him, see if he was actually a safe person who wouldn’t hurt her, but then he couldn’t understand why she didn’t leave when he’d snap and prove he wasn’t.

But he believes it. He’d often caught Sabrina jumping in puddles, only to pretend she was merely standing in ankle-deep water when she saw him watching her. She thought she was above it all. Her behavior was always odd, flipping between acting twice her age one minute and half of it the next. He blames her mother. He doesn’t think the woman ever allowed Sabrina to be a child, and she was profoundly confused on how to grow up because she had been expected to pop out of the womb having already done so.

Anthony  smoothed her out. David had made progress by the time they met him-Sabrina was willing to ask for help when she didn’t know something and rarely threw her rage fits anymore. But helping him take care of Anthony , keeping him occupied helped her more than anything David could have ever done for her. It gave her an excuse to act young. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t justify acting her age when it was just for herself. But she could do it for Anthony . That was Sabrina.

He didn’t deserve her. Not for one moment of her precious time on this planet. Looking at Anthony , hearing his questions echo through his mind, the hope in his voice...David didn’t deserve him either. He never deserved either of them.

David reaches up and lets his fingers brush against Anthony ’s cheek. “I don’t know who your parents are, Anthony .”

Anthony  nods morosely. “Yeah, I’ve gathered that from this conversation.” He shakes his head. “There had to be someone before you. But I...guess they didn’t want me.”

“You don’t know that. Don’t make up stories that will just make you feel worse, and don’t try to remember things that might be better left forgotten.” He drops his hand, places it over Anthony ’s folded ones. “I don’t know why they left you there. I can tell you that doing so was the biggest mistake of their lives. And it was...one of the best things that happened to mine.”

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, and all that.” Anthony  shrugs, and lets the corners of his mouth twitch when David smacks his thigh.

“Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“I’m just joking.” Anthony  shakes his head. “Weird to think about. I doubt they ever thought I’d become Emperor one day.”

Of course not. Who the f**k anticipated that? David sure hadn’t with Sabrina.

There’s more David feels he should say, but when he opens his mouth all his words come up blank.

Anthony  takes his hand. Looks at him with that sorrowful, pitied expression. “But they’re not here. You are. And I just...want you to be okay.”

“I am.”

“David.” Anthony ’s gaze hardens.

David glances away. “I will be.”

“When?” He turns, grabs David’s other hand and pulls them both into his lap. “David, I’m not the only person who cares. Even Joan is worried about you. She doesn’t think you’re coping. And I have to agree. Have you even cried over her?”

“Of course I have,” David lies.

His face indicates that Anthony  doesn’t buy his act, not for a moment, but he doesn’t press the subject. “And everything that’s happened since. It...really bothers me that you can’t tell me what happened to you in prison, David.”

David blows air out of his mouth, watches the wisp of hair hanging down his forehead flutter. “Please don’t start this again.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying that you should be able to talk about it. That, and all the other stuff you’ve been hiding from me. It’s not just because I’m curious, it’s because I can tell it all bothers you.”

David groans and pulls away from Anthony . Elbows on his knees, head hanging in his hands, fingers at his temples.

“I can’t,” he says. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything, I just...can’t talk about it. Not now.”

“Okay.” Anthony  nods, a determined look in his eye. “So when?”

“When we’re back at Dunwall Tower,” David says. “I promise I’ll tell you everything then. Maybe not all at once, but I’ll...I’ll try.”

“That would probably be better, honestly.” Anthony  nods. “You don’t need to tell me everything right away, but...eventually? Right?”

“Everything,” David promises.

Well, not the Mark. Not the magic powers and the Void and the Outsider’s insufferable face. Not Sabrina. Oh, Void, Anthony  can never know what’s become of Sabrina. It would destroy him.

That’s not really a lot to keep from Anthony , really. It all falls under a neat banner: the Outsider’s f*****g bullshit. Anything that can be summed up by that, he doesn’t need to tell Anthony . He can’t tell Anthony . A man was allowed one secret.

And keeping it means forfeiting the others. He’s...he’ll have to confess to everything the witches did to him. Tell Anthony  about all the people he killed, try to justify it. But he’ll do it. In a few months. When Anthony  is on the throne, everyone is safe and David doesn’t have other bullshit to worry about.

A hand over his, sliding in and slipping his fingers into David’s. “You promise?” Anthony  asks.

David nods. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart.” His hesitance must show, because Anthony ’s face hardens. “Do it.”

“Fine, fine.” David sits up straight and presses his thumb into his pointer finger, dragging it across his chest once and then twice. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“”Well, let’s not take it that far.”

David almost has to smile at that. He puts his hand on Anthony  shoulder.

Anthony  reaches up and presses his hand over David’s. “We’re going to be okay, right?”

“Of course we are. We’ve survived everything else the world has thrown at us.”

“Yeah.” Anthony  nods, then looks down. “But this time is different.”

“It is. But the ending won’t be.”

This bed was ridiculously uncomfortable. The room was too huge, the ceilings too high. And the imposing stone walls kept the air chilled yet retained the humidity, creating an atmosphere that was somehow both cold and muggy at the same time.

David flops over again. He f*****g hates living in Dunwall Tower already. And it’s only his first night.

He shoves another pillow onto the floor. That was a dumb idea, thinking boxing himself in with pillows would help. The bed was just so wide. He didn’t need all this space, and there were so many damn decorative pillows he might as well put them to use. But it just made him feel more suffocated than he already was.

He has to practically wiggle to turn over again. This bed was too damn soft. David wouldn’t have thought that was possible, yesterday, but here he is with a mattress apparently made from clouds and he sinks in so far he can barely move.

Sabrina’s was worse. He’d only been in her new quarters for a few minutes while they were being shown around, but her bed was absolutely ridiculous. Towered so high off the ground that she literally needed the steps to get up there, her mattress so soft that she tried sitting down and flailed as she sunk into it. David had to pretend not to laugh so she didn’t realize everyone got a view of her panties. Though Anthony  had told her anyway.

He wonders how she’s sleeping, in her princess bed with the pink comforter and the stupid canopy. Her big bedroom with polished wood floor, expensive wall hangings, and armoires that will stand empty until her appointment with the tailors, until the Emperor can spoil her even more with new clothes. She hasn’t slept in her own room since he met her-aside from that one time they got mugged, when David let his ass get beat so she had a chance to get away, and she spent the night on a fire escape while he crawled behind a dumpster and hoped that the sharp pain in his side wasn’t his rib poking through his flesh. She was too afraid to climb back down and go back for him until dawn, and David worried he’d be followed if he went to go look for her, and then they’d take her too. Apart from that, she hasn’t slept alone in over a year. She doesn’t even like pink, he thinks.

Anthony  probably isn’t doing much better. They insisted on giving them separate guest quarters, despite him telling them that Anthony  slept with David. Or with Sabrina, but they knew better to mention that. Even at the hotel they’d been prisoners staying in for the last week, they’d taken one bed and let Sabrina have the other to herself. The Spymaster agents had even wanted to put them in different rooms, saying it was uncouth for a girl her age to share a room with a grown man, but David had held onto her tightly. Literally gripped her arm as one of the agents tried to pull her away. He knew that if they got her alone, if they managed to separate the two, he’d never see her again.

But Anthony  is six and a boy, and isn’t the heir to f*****g everything, so they shouldn’t give a s**t who he wanted to sleep with. Maybe if he let them believe Anthony  was his son, they’d allow it. Anthony  would have to get comfortable sleeping on his own eventually, but...not right now. Not like this, while there are already so many changes in his life.

David blows air out of his mouth. Whatever. These rooms were only temporary anyway. The staff were preparing new quarters for them, as they’re going to be permanent Tower residents. David gets to deal with this bullshit for the rest of his life. Hooray.

He’ll live with it. He’s not leaving Sabrina here alone. He can ask for a normal f*****g bed.

David tries turning over again, and it only takes his four tries before he gives up and flops onto his back.

Tomorrow he’d...he doesn’t even know what the f**k he’s going to do tomorrow. Sabrina’s meeting with her tutors and has tests to take, see what she knows and what she’ll need to learn. (she can read because David taught her, can do basic arithmetic because she had to handle her mother’s money so the woman didn’t spend it all on booze, and will be starting at absolute 0 in every other subject-he could have told them all that right away) David would sit in on it, but she’s going to need quiet and David will have Anthony  with him. (it was unnecessary too, he didn’t need to stay with her. The Emperor hired these people and they’re surrounded by guards who are sworn to protect her. Nobody will hurt her, she’s safe, and David still makes her keep a knife in her shoe) The Emperor mentioned he’d hire a governess for ‘the boy’, which was unnecessary. David was perfectly capable of taking care of Anthony . He’d welcome a tutor, because Anthony  is already shaping up to be smarter than David is, but he can take care of the other stuff. And anyway, Anthony  knows how to take care of himself pretty well for a six-year-old-it’s more of a matter of if he feels like doing so. (and how is he going to trust some random woman to be around Anthony  more than David is, it’s bad enough they expect him to trust Sabrina in the hands of dozens of men who didn’t care about her until yesterday, until they found out which d**k donated the sperm that made her)

No, he has to quit riling himself up. Sabrina asked him to back off with the hostility, the paranoia. She already has so much to deal with. He’s not going to stress her out by making her play peacekeeper. That’s not fair. He’ll play nice.

But he’s going to be ready, get her ready, for when someone comes for her. Because they will. Especially now.

David glares at the ceiling tiles. A flash of lightning illuminates the design, followed by a loud clap of thunder a few seconds later.

Tomorrow he’ll take his meals at the same time Sabrina and the Emperor do-unless the Emperor actually has s**t to do, like running the Empire, instead of drolling on about it while staring at Sabrina like she’s the most perplexing thing in existence. Outside of that, David will keep Anthony  out of everyone’s hair, he supposes. That’s his only job. He no longer has to worry about money. Not about feeding the streetrats or finding a dry place for them to sleep. Can’t even give Sabrina her fighting lessons, at least not until he convinces the Emperor that she needs them now more than ever. He has almost nothing to do. It’s an odd feeling.

The library held promise, and David was secretly very pleased upon hearing they had full access to all the books-but there was nothing really in there that was age-appropriate for Anthony . And he feels like he’ll get looks if he has Anthony  read whale oil extraction manuals out load to him here. Maybe he could take Anthony  for a walk outside, tour the gardens which were apparently very impressive. Unless it’s still pouring rain tomorrow.

Was there anything in this damn palace a kid could do? There should be more kids. Children of the servants who lived here, or politicians’ kids coming to watch their parents work. This place was like a museum dedicated to fussery, no room for living. Did they expect the Imperial Family to pop out as full-fledged adults and not have a childhood or something? He hates to think of the life Sabrina would have had if she was born here, if the Emperor had done his job and married her mother. No kids to play with. All fancy furniture and fake fruit you couldn’t touch. Wearing a stiff dress and sitting quietly without fidgeting, a doll to be posed, a pretty princess and never a kid.

He’s angry that the Emperor let her suffer on the streets for so long. But he’s also angry that he had the nerve to take her off them. He’s angry, so angry that she turned out to be Sabrina Stark. Why did it have to be her? His Sabrina? She didn’t deserve this bullshit, doesn’t want it, and now they’re all dragged into this mess and they just have to pretend-

The door creaks. David stiffens up-another thing he hates about the guest quarters, his door doesn’t f*****g lock.

David reaches under his pillow and grabs the handle of his knife, remaining completely still otherwise. Was someone really going to try and kill him here, in Dunwall Tower? David’s pissed off plenty of people during his career, people more than willing to get his blood on their hands, but they’d have to be damned determined to try and kill him here, now. Unless they were Spymaster agents, or just regular guards, ordered to get rid of him and make excuses about his sudden passing so the Emperor can have Sabrina all to himself. Well, they’ll get one hell of a surprise if they are here to kill him, if they ever move forward or do anything-

“David?”

It’s Sabrina’s voice. David releases his grip on his knife, sitting up as well as he’s able to.

Sabrina is standing in the doorway, wearing a long nightgown with a hideous floral pattern and sleeves too long for her arms. Anthony  is at her side, gripping her hand and holding his other to his mouth.

“Hey.” David feigns a sleepy voice. “I thought you went to bed hours ago.”

It’s dark enough that he can barely see the whites of Sabrina’s eyes, but he still sees how she rolls them in her typical Sabrina fashion. “Anthony  woke me up. He’s scared of the thunderstorm.”

“Can I sleep with you?” Anthony  then slips his knuckle back into his mouth and continues sucking. He’s been doing that. Never did anything like it before this week. David’s been a little preoccupied with Sabrina to think much on it, but it has concerned him. They all supposedly need to meet with the Royal Physician sometime in the next few days-David might ask him about it. It’s probably not a good habit to let Anthony  develop.

David nods. “Yeah, of course. Get up here.”

Anthony  practically launches himself into the bed with him. His shirt is long and he’s not wearing any pants, which is typical for him. David needs to at least get him to wear underwear to bed now, but that’s a battle for another day.

David wonders why Anthony  went to Sabrina first-she was several hallways away and on a completely different floor. Though her door was probably easier to pick out than the hallway filled with identical doors leading to identical guest rooms. They were numbered, but while Anthony  was picking up the whole ‘reading’ thing pretty well, he wasn’t really doing so well at distinguishing numbers yet.

That was such a Anthony  thing to do. Tiptoe to the other side of the palace to find Sabrina so she could lead him to David, instead of asking one of the many guards roaming the halls. Come to think of it, why hadn’t they stopped him? Why didn’t they guide him back to his room, or to David’s when Anthony  asked for him? If they didn’t notice a confused six-year-old stumbling about, entering the princess’s room, then what good were they? The Emperor should know of such flaws in his security.

Though it doesn’t surprise him that Sabrina was able to slip down here undetected. The girl was sneaky.

Anthony  shoves his face into the side of David’s chest and snuggles up to his side. David pulls the blankets up to cover him. “Don’t like your room?”

He shakes his head without detaching his nose from David’s rib. “There’s a weird lady watching me. She looks all fishy and mean.”

“She’s a mermaid. And I told you, it’s just a painting.”

“She’s scary!” Anthony  lifts his head and pouts. David reaches up and tries to smooth down the hairs standing straight at the top of his head.

“Well, in a few days you’ll have your new room, and I’ll make sure they don’t put any mermaid pictures on the wall.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Sabrina announces, turning back towards the doorway. “I have a lot to do tomorrow and I need-”

A burst of thunder makes her jump, her wide eyes illuminated by the white flash that lights up the room. She stands there, watching the window nervously, only to pan back to the doorway, through to the wide, empty hallway to her empty, empty room.

“Sabrina.” David stares at her stonely. Without a word, he flips up the blankets and motions to the other side of the bed.

She stares at him hesitantly, but he sees how all her muscles relax. She turns and eases the door shut, and bounds over to the other side of the bed.

“Just for the first night,” she says, carefully easing herself up onto the mattress. “Just because of the storm. And because it makes Anthony  feel better.”

“Uh-huh.” He lifts up the covers so she can slip her bare legs under them. She trekked down her barefoot and her feet are freezing-they haven’t given her any socks, only stockings, which she already hates and refuses to wear. Her father clearly has enough money to buy her better quality socks than David ever could, but he’s chosen to buy her more expensive clothing that was both uncomfortable to wear and completely avoided actually serving the purpose clothing was supposed to have. David did not understand rich people.

“I mean it.” She settles down, facing the window and drawing the blankets up to her chin. “I have to sleep in my own bed tomorrow.”

She’ll have to sneak back to her own quarters in the morning, before one of the maids come in to wake her. He knows what some people would see in this. People already assume plenty of things about David. He thinks it says more about them than him, but that was hardly a defense he could use if the Emperor blatantly accuses him of sleeping with his daughter.

David should really worry more about keeping his own head on his shoulders. He can’t protect Sabrina if he’s dead.

“Do I have to sleep alone tomorrow?” Anthony  asks. David rolls his eyes.

“No. You can stay with me until our new rooms are ready.”

Then he’ll try again to get Anthony  to sleep on his own. It’s not that he’s too old for this-David still shared a bed with his mother up until he was kidnapped, though it was more out of necessity. They never lived anywhere that had more than one bed. Sabrina, Anthony , and David hadn’t up until a few days ago. But these rich palace folk were weird, porcelain people who liked to fake perfection. They wouldn’t get it. They don’t get them.

Anthony  yawns, resting his cheek on David’s bicep. “‘Kay. G’night David.” He raises his head, eyes already closed. “Night Sabrina.”

“Night-night, Anthony .” He hears her stifle a giggle. “Don’t let the bugs bite.”

“Don’t give him ideas. There are no bed bugs here,” David grumbles, but Anthony  is too passed out to care.

He listens as Sabrina’s breath evens out, feels her heat melding with his under the blanket. The rain and wind are white noise to the sound of their breathing, the feeling of Anthony  flopped in his arms and Sabrina’s back to his. David tips his head back and falls asleep.

It’s the pain that wakes him. Heavy and thick, deep in his chest. David only gets his feet on the floor before he doubles over, unable to move.

He has the short, ridiculous notion that he’s been shot. It’s the only thing he can think of to describe what he’s feeling, but really, it isn’t even close. He’s been shot where it’s broken the skin twice, and it burned more than this. Burned and ached, horribly so, but he’s still in the attic and it’s dark and he can hear people still sleeping in the next room over and his quilt is free of blood.

He knows he hasn’t been stabbed. Stabbing was more of a cold pain. It was completely different.

No, this felt like something was constricting his heart. Tightening its grip, leaving it no room to beat. He can’t draw in breath to call out for Anthony ’s help. David can only raise his hands and press them against his chest.

There’s a black hole at the pit, a weight at the center of his heart drawing in the tissue and twisting, compressing it until it fit in that tight little space. A heaviness that dragged it down and weighed on his arteries. And despite his heart seemingly getting smaller, David feels as if it will burst from his chest if he doesn’t hold it in.

It aches. It’s an ache so bad it reaches in and paralyzes his lungs. He presses harder because it’s the only thing that helps.

The hardening goes away, but the ache persists. And even when that fades, the memory of it is almost just as painful.

David moves little by little, first his fingers and then lowering his hands, practices breathing before straightening his back. When he can move his legs, he shoves them into his boots.

Anthony  and Rose are still sleeping on the same cot, while Vasco is sprawled out on a nearby easy chair, practically upside-down and his blanket on the floor. David picks it up and spreads it back over him before moving on, checking that the door on their side is locked, that both Rose and Anthony  are covered and don’t look cold. He goes back and opens the stove, pokes the fire a bit, throws another log in. Then he leaves.

He can’t go back to sleep now, but he can’t stay awake and think. His mind is racing and he has to do something to satisfy his Roving Feet, to distract him from the pain in his chest.

David cracks the door to Lydia’s room open ever so slightly, listens for her slow breathing and closes it gently when he hears it. He checks the kitchen. Ricardo hasn’t even woken yet, that’s how early it is, one arm slung over Reed’s sleeping form. Downstairs, Paul and Gerald are asleep in their bunks, and he peers around the privacy screens to ensure there is a Thalia-shaped lump on her cot. Galia is fast asleep in her bed-Zhukov is still gone.

He enters the apartments Trimble’s taken over only to ensure all the windows and doors leading out of the compound are securely locked and boarded up. Does the same for all the other buildings that border the mill, checks that they’re all shut up tight and that the alleyways are all barricaded and nothing’s been breached. Peers through Joan and Edgar’s skylight, sees them both passed out in their beds. He goes into the mall and checks the front door for signs of entry. Paces down the hallways and checks the unoccupied stores, lifts the sliding door to Alex’s prison and checks on her, leaves before she can finish rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

By the time he climbs onto the roof, the sky is just starting to lighten. And by the time he finishes searching for ladders, makeshift stairs, anything that could be used to climb up from the outside and put a hole in their security, the sky is pink.

Nothing’s been compromised. They’re all safe, which means David has done his job. Which means he has nothing left to do.

Part of him wants to pull out the Talisman, longs for the comfort of her voice. But he knows it won’t fill this emptiness in him. He wants to talk to her. Wants to see her face and watch the little tendrils of hair escape her bun and fall across the fringe of her forehead. He wants her to make sense. He wants her to be whole again.

He wants something to distract him, to keep him from acknowledging the wrenching, painful fact that he misses her.

David flops onto a bench in the middle of the mall, leans his head against the backrest and watches the pink sky through the skylight.

He hears a bird start to sing. It’s not even spring yet. Don’t they realize that it’s going to get colder before it gets warmer?

Stupid bird. They could leave Dunwall. Could fly right out, and yet they stayed.

“Coffee?”

David raises his head to see Eugene standing there, two mugs in hand. He lets his skull clatter back again. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t. I’m usually up at dawn.”

David pulls himself up as Eugene sits next to him, moves to accept the mug offered to him. His fingers close around it, relishing the warmth, holding the heat like an orb at his palms.

“You know,” Eugene leads in. “She wouldn’t have wanted you to linger like this. The Empress would have wanted you to move on.”

David just stares into the brown liquid. He knew Sabrina better than anyone. He knows what she’d want. He doesn’t need Eugene to tell him.

“You’re a better man for having loved her, David. It’s better than if you had never-”

“Look,” David exhales. “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but…”

But what? He stops short. ‘But I don’t want to?’

“But I don’t want to talk,” he finishes quietly.

“Then how about I talk?” Eugene says, sipping his coffee. Then he leans back, observes the sky. And he doesn’t do a whole lot of talking for several minutes.

David just sits there, feeling his coffee cool in his hand, wondering if he’s gotten off with this whole heart-to-heart thing. Eugene audibly swallows.

“Everyone is going to tell you,” he begins. “That time heals all wounds. That every day gets easier. That someday, it will cease hurting altogether.”

That’s utter bullshit. It’s been nearly eight months and David still feels the pain as crisp as sharp as the moment he realized his Empress was truly gone. The only thing time has done is given him room to feel around the pain. A way to put it on the back burner, focus on other things, but it still hurt and it still needed to be felt.

“I don’t...really like that saying. I never have.” Eugene takes a sip. David stays quiet.

“The world will keep turning, with us and without them.” Eugene leans forward to catch David’s eye. “Time passes, and it catches us in its grip. Time forces us to learn, and to heal. You have to move with the world. And the world will move on.” He trails off, his eyes focusing on the nothing in the distance. “But you won’t want it to. And that’s the hardest part.”

Then they both sit back, lean their heads up and watch the sky lighten from pink to blue-in silence, this time.