"You refused my offer, so let me ask you instead. What do you desire of the crown?" His tone carried no charity in it anywhere; he addressed her exactly as he had addressed the primordial.
"I refused because I don’t need any of what you offered," Iris spoke, posure clawed back into place. "Your record, though... The one that dissolved my family in a single paragraph and never mentioned a child."
The flatness came apart on the last words. "Damian Ravenclaw. I want you to write him in."
"It will be the first name entered into the record when I return to the capital," Alexios told her.
Iris held his gaze for a breath longer, then gave the king a short nod and pulled herself up onto the nearest intact cask. She was done talking. Whatever the two men decided next, she’d made her claim, and the exhaustion of the whole day was finally collecting its dues.
"Which brings us back to the same wall," Quinlan picked the thread back up. "Your investigators aren’t trustworthy enough, and according to you, my way will make me every killer’s favorite scapegoat. That, old friend, is what I believe to be called an impasse."
"..." Alexios didn’t answer right away.
The lantern light moved on his face while he weighed his options, and when he finally spoke, his voice had dropped into a lower register, the one he used when the theater was over.
"It’s time I show you my cards."
He turned toward the sealed pillar without really seeing it, his thumb working over the pommel of his sword.
"Long before the world heard your wretched name, Ravenshade was the strongest duchy of the realm. Their armies nearly rivaled the crown’s standing forces, and holding the border made them heroes to the moners. Their slave markets refilled their coffers after every border war, and the dwarven slaves they took kept them in weapons and armor no other duchy could field. A few hundred years ago, they stood on the brink of declaring independence, and they would not have gone alone. If one declared war and the crown didn’t immediately bulldoze them back to submission, the rest would’ve followed within days..."
"That’s why you married the worst harpy of them all," Quinlan nodded in understanding.
"I married the duke’s sister and made her my queen. A short bit later, I wed Calienne, my oldest princess, to Duskmere, Ravenshade’s greatest supporter. Elisabeth was then chosen by the Goddess, further helping the crown consolidate its power. Marriage by marriage, pact by pact, the realm was dragged back into balance."
The old king’s mouth thinned. "It held for centuries. But those marriages... Every child I have carries Ravenshade blood through Morgana, which means the next monarch of Vraven will be half Ravenshade no matter what I do. Tharion’s house has been waiting on that arithmetic ever since. All they needed was for me to die as soon as possible, and for the right kind of heir to reach the throne."
"The right kind."
"Weak. Isolated. Grateful for guidance." Alexios let each word fall like a stone into a well. "And not long ago, Tharion and I struck a deal."
"You did not..." Quinlan’s gaze darkened.
"In exchange for Ravenshade’s full support of the crown in whatever decisions I make, I promised to name Felicity my heir."
Open disgust took over Quinlan’s face. He made no effort at all to hide it.
"Felicity." He repeated the name as if he had to wipe it clean of the sentence it arrived in. "The most easily influenceable child. That’s who you sold to Tharion as his future puppet."
From her cask, Iris’s red eyes moved between the two men, too drained to interject and too invested to look away.
"It was one piece of a larger design to wrestle power back from the dukes," Alexios responded, unbothered by the disgusted words aimed at him. "When the deal was made, Tharion thought I only had a few months left to live at most. Upon my death, instead of one of my older sons who would at least know they’re being manipulated and resist, he’d get an impressionable teenage girl to puppeteer to his heart’s content, being the true king."
"Ah..." Quinlan’s disgust left as if it never existed, replaced by an ominous glint in his eyes. "The longevity drug from the Fujimori..."
"They didn’t know about it," Alexios smiled, his own eyes shining with even more sadistic cruelty. "I would’ve kept taking the concoction until everything was ready."
The old king then chuckled darkly, and his voice took on a tone Quinlan didn’t recognize from the old man. He was mocking, quoting. "’Your Majesty, the Princess has been with the Villain for too long... I fear he’ll corrupt her! We need to expend more resources on saving her!’"
Quinlan’s villainous laughter responded. "He feared I’d snatch the position he wanted for himself..."
Alexios’s silence was all the confirmation he needed.
Then the old man sighed, losing his ominous air. "I won’t bore you with the details, since they stopped mattering the day a certain all-important bastard graced my kingdom, but the long and short of it is that the dukedoms would have spent the ing decades weakening one another for me, until I struck at the right time."
"...I’ll admit that it’s really impressive, but why are you telling me this exactly?" Quinlan asked, confused. "If you’re fishing for an apology for the wrecked master plan, you might as well give up."
"You and apologizing?" The king shook his head. "I wouldn’t dare dream of it."
"I just apologized to Iris," Quinlan shrugged.
"Yes. The only issue is that I’m not a beautiful woman," Alexios responded.
Before Quinlan could respond, the old man spoke up again. "Do you remember the offer I made you through Felicity’s pendant?"
The memory arrived on its own, in the old king’s voice, tinny through the enchanted metal back when Quinlan had still worn Devil’s mask.
’The hand of my third daughter, Princess Felicity Valorian. A noble title of Count, seated in the Central Lands so no duke stands above you. A full pardon for every crime mitted in the name of Devil and also while wearing the mask of Black. All of this, in exchange for your service to the royal court as its mage.’
Quinlan’s eyes widened by a fraction, then slowly narrowed again as the pieces rearranged themselves into a picture he hadn’t been meant to see for another couple decades.
A count answering to no duke. A court mage bound to the crown. Felicity’s hand. Every clause of that offer had been a leash braided for the most ominous stray the old man could find, long before anyone knew what was actually wearing the mask.
"You’re a much better schemer than I ever gave you credit for, old friend," Quinlan shook his head. "But the answer hasn’t changed. I refused your daughter’s hand then, and I refuse it now. I didn’t claw my way up all the way here just to let politics force me into engagements. Especially not to children. The mere thought creeps me the fuck out."
Alexios laughed, low and genuine. He’d expected exactly that answer, and it showed.
"Believe me, I wouldn’t want Felicity marrying a scumbag of your caliber either." The humor burned down and off his face like a spent lantern wick. "That’s why I’m no longer asking you to marry her. But you are the one man alive I can trust with her safety once I’m gone."
For a moment, nobody in the cellar had anything to say to Alexios’s words.
From her cask, Iris watched Quinlan, and a quiet scoff escaped her.
"I just told him to back off..." she murmured under her breath, meant for nobody’s ears but her own. "Yet here he is, striking deals..."
There was no spite in it. The words came out soft, carrying a warmth she’d never authorized, and she looked away before her lips could finish what they’d started. A second later, her eyes widened as she realized she’d been about to smile.
Quinlan studied him, then shrugged. "Why are we even circling this? If Ravenshade turns out guilty, the house dies with the answer and your deal turns to dust on its own. If they’re innocent, I subjugate the lot, and we get a duchy of very loyal, very obedient minions. Either way, Tharion never collects. Just don’t make good on the promise. Simple."
"’We get a duchy?’ Do you even hear yourself?" A vein twitched on Alexios’s forehead before he declared, "But there’s an issue with your proposed plan. I don’t want to take my promise back."
"Is this about that nonsense duty of yours again?" Quinlan sighed, but to his surprise, Alexios shook his head.
"I’ve seen enough. I’ve seen who my daughter became at your side, and I’ve made my decision as a king and as a father both. I want Felicity to succeed me."
"So prove it to me." Alexios’s hand left the sword hilt entirely, open at his side. "Prove that when you mete out justice, you can do it not as a wild beast, but as a man my people can trust. Prove it with Ravenshade, for every eye in the kingdom to see. Do that, and I will spend whatever time I have left helping you take this continent..."
The old king held the primordial’s stare.
"...and bee its ’ruler.’"
He gave the word the exact same weight the dead blade had given it in the soul realm, and there was no chance in the world that it was a coincidence.
Quinlan’s lips slowly moved upward. "You old bastard..."
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