For Want of a Fiend

by Barbara Ann Wright

  “I’m sorry. I…can’t resist a mystery.”

  He sat down heavily on a tattered chair. All the furniture in the room had seen better days. Perfectly round, the space was dominated by the column of stone that housed the stairway. The rest was full of odds and ends, bits of junk perched on rickety tables. One shuttered window offered the only other way out. Starbride realized they must be inside one of the towers. She hadn’t known that the palace towers held rooms at all.

  “I suppose you’d have found out soon enough,” he said. “Crowe’s grooming you to fill his shoes, and since I help Crowe with difficult jobs…” He gestured at her.

  “Difficult jobs?”

  “Like disposal.”

  “Disposal of…” She realized he meant killing people, and her stomach turned. Crowe led prisoners to the dungeons, which she supposed meant that he “dealt” with them, with Pennynail’s help. “Ugh.”

  “I thought you might feel that way.”

  Starbride fought hard not to squirm. It was still difficult to believe this man knew her. Pennynail knew her. She was comfortable with him, but this person? Her mind flashed on the time Pennynail had helped her undress when he’d posed as her in order to capture Darren. He’d unlaced her dress, had seen the back of her underwear…

  “So,” she said, “who are you?”

  He snorted. “Want all the answers right away, don’t you? Feeling that noble’s entitlement?”

  “Just wanted to put a name with the face.”

  “Pennynail’s just fine.”

  “No, I know Pennynail, at least a little. You?” She shrugged. “I can’t work with you if I don’t know you at all.”

  “All right, but don’t be too afraid.” He put a hand on his chest. “I’m Freddie Ballantine.”

  “Which part am I supposed to be afraid of?”

  He frowned. “Frederick Ballantine. Freddie Ballantine.” When she shook her head, his mouth dropped open. “I’m the Freddie Ballantine!”

  “Ever been to Allusia?” she asked sweetly.

  “You haven’t heard of me since you’ve been here?”

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  “Forget it.”

  Starbride shuffled her feet, embarrassed for him. “What are you famous for?”

  He waved and sank lower in his chair. “Never mind. The moment’s sort of deflated, don’t you think?”

  The sarcasm and gestures reminded her so much of his masked persona that she smiled. “People would recognize your face and your voice?” She stared hard at the pinkish scar around his neck, and realization hit her like a hammer. “Someone…hanged you?”

  He looked up under his lowered brow and said nothing.

  “Lawfully?”

  When he nodded, she nodded, and some of the fear he’d warned her about seeped into her mind. If he’d been lawfully hanged, no matter that it hadn’t worked, then he was a criminal. And since he’d warned her not to be afraid, she guessed it wasn’t because he was a forger or a con man or a shady horse trader. “Were you…Did you…murder someone?”

  He sighed deeply. “I have killed more people as Pennynail in service to the crown than I ever did as Freddie Ballantine. I was a thief, and I may have killed some people who deserved it, but when they hanged me, it was for someone I never laid a finger on.”

  “I don’t have the right to ask. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I followed you. You’d be justified in dangling me out the window until I learned to not follow anyone else.”

  “I think we can forgo that. Katya would never forgive me.”

  “Thank Horsestrong for small favors,” Starbride said with a slight smile, and she tried her hardest not to shift away from him.

  Chapter Three: Katya

  After Starbride left, Katya couldn’t get Reinholt out of her thoughts. He hadn’t shown up to take his children while Katya had visited her parents. He’d left them to their nannies and to Lord Vincent. Katya didn’t want to confront him though, not about his children, his behavior, or about the abysmal way he treated Starbride.

  Not yet anyway.

  She could sit and brood, wander the hallways listening for gossip, or find something useful to do.

  Crowe still didn’t trust their visitor, Roland’s son Hugo. Crowe needed excuses to set his mind at ease, so Katya would give him one more reason to relax. At the same time, maybe she could dump the gossip-sorting duty that always dogged her steps.

  Hugo didn’t have free run of the palace. They’d given him a room in the royal wing, and he’d behaved so far. Katya thought it silly, but Crowe had tuned the pyramids to incinerate Hugo on the spot if he did anything nasty. Katya had told Hugo about them, just in case, citing the fact that Crowe liked to overreact. The one time Katya had seen Hugo in the halls, she’d noted that he walked in the middle of the carpeted hallway, and then very slowly.

  Neither Starbride nor Crowe had found the telltale blocks or holes in Hugo’s mind that indicated pyramid influence. When Hugo had switched sides, he’d even hurt Darren, Roland’s chief henchman. Katya didn’t think Darren had the sort of ego that would let him be wounded by someone as young as Hugo just for the sake of Roland’s machinations.

  Still, Crowe wouldn’t be satisfied. Katya would keep an eye on him, too, even if Starbride and Brutal thought he could be trusted. After all, she’d never thought Maia would run away with Roland. Katya would rather have Maia by her side, but that didn’t make Hugo any less her cousin. He even carried a Fiend, though Crowe guaranteed that it couldn’t present until he’d Waltzed.

  Her bastard cousin carried a Fiend. It made him more Umbriel than her.

  Katya tried to banish the maudlin thought and focus. She had a Waltz to organize; it was time for Hugo to recognize the true worth of the Aspect. He’d volunteered to help them pacify Yanchasa during the ritual, and they had to act soon. The last Waltz had gone badly, with Katya’s essence being returned to Yanchasa where he rested in his prison underneath the castle. Some of his essence had to be drained, or he might wake.

  Katya fought the headache building in her temples. There was so much to do, and all the while she had to fight to keep the Fiends and the Waltz deeply buried secrets. The populace knew about Yanchasa, but they didn’t know what it took to keep the great Fiend asleep.

  Hugo had found out the hard way, but still he was willing to help. Even if that offer of help was a cover, if he planned to run rampant once his Fiend had been unlocked and his Aspect could present, he was in for a surprise. Katya couldn’t remember the few times her Fiend had been in control of her body. Without the help of a pyradisté as powerful as Roland, Hugo would never be able to control his.

  “Come in?” Hugo called when Katya knocked at his door. She smiled at the question in his tone. When she stepped inside, he stood from the settee where he’d been reading. His tousled brown hair hung almost in his light blue eyes. It gave him a boyish cast, almost as much as his smooth cheeks did. When Katya had met him, he’d had his first facial hair spotting lip and chin, but it seemed he’d started shaving since then. Who’d taught him how? Brutal? Or did men just come to that naturally? She supposed thirteen might be a good age for them to start.

  Katya shook the thought away and gestured to Hugo’s book, the heavy history of the Umbriel family. “Catching up?”

  “There’s so much my father never told me. What can I do for you, Highness?”

  “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You don’t need to stay in here all the time, you know.”

  He blanched a little, and she knew he was thinking of the pyramids in the halls.

  “The more you make yourself useful,” Katya added, “the quicker Crowe will take those down.”

  “I don’t blame him for not trusting me, not after…what my father did, what he’ll do again if he gets the chance.”

  “Your father was a noble man when he was human, Hugo. He sacrificed himself for the Order, for his duty. If you need to blame someone, blame the Fiend.”

  “Would I…I me
an, will I…will my Fiend…” He looked at her, eyes pleading.

  “The Fiend you carry would gladly consume everyone you know. It would kill without thought, without reason, until someone put it down.”

  “You didn’t.”

  She heard the awe in his voice, and it nearly made her chuckle. He was so young. How could that possibly be a false face? He’d needed his father’s help just to suppress his thoughts, proof that he wasn’t a capable actor. “Starbride suppressed my Fiend with a pyramid. Even then, I had to fight the urge to kill everyone. Your father is the only person I’ve ever met who could retain control of his thoughts with the Aspect on him, but the Fiend has warped his mind into something terrible, just not mindless. Your father’s brilliant mind with the Fiend’s sensibilities.”

  “Do you think we can get him back? I mean, I don’t really remember him before the…Well, it was just me and Mother for a long time. And then he took her away. He said I’d see her again once everything was over.” Hugo bit his lip and looked away.

  Katya could only nod. Roland had used Hugo’s mother Layra in some sort of experiment, animating her body after she’d died and using it as a mindless puppet. Maybe he’d even murdered her to do so, who knew? She didn’t have the stomach to ask Hugo if he knew.

  “He won’t give us the chance to get him back, Hugo,” Katya said. “When next we see him, we have to try like hell to kill him. It took me becoming a greater Fiend to beat him the first time. We won’t have that luxury again.”

  Hugo nodded slowly, and Katya couldn’t imagine what it felt like to contemplate becoming an orphan by your own hand. She gave his knee a friendly pat, much like Crowe had always given her. He looked at her with gratitude almost like worship. It reminded her so much of Maia at his age that her heart ached.

  “You could do a tremendous favor for me, Hugo, if you’re willing?”

  “Certainly, Highness.”

  “I always loathed wandering the halls for gossip…”

  Hugo sat so straight she thought his posture might carry him off the seat. “I can do that for you, Highness, my pleasure.”

  Katya gave him a gracious nod. Crowe would have to take the Hugo-specific pyramids down now.

  “Is Miss Starbride coming to meet us?” Hugo said. “I mean, the princess consort.” He stared at the door with a blush in his cheeks. When he finally glanced at her, the redness spread all the way to his ears. “I mean, it’s fine if she doesn’t.”

  Katya wondered if she knew him well enough to tease him. Well, maybe a little. “And what if she does?”

  “No…nothing. I just wondered.”

  Starbride hadn’t had much experience with suitors, but even if someone else could turn her head away from Katya, it damn sure wouldn’t be this shy young man. Still, if Starbride ever wanted children…Katya cocked her head and considered the idea of using Hugo for stud service.

  “What?” He leaned away with a suspicious, worried stare.

  “Do you miss being Lord Hugo?”

  “Well, I am actually a lord.”

  Katya blinked at him.

  “Oh, yes. Father bought the Roanth Highlands. There’s nothing there but sheep, but a lordship comes with the property. I guess my father thought that if things didn’t work out, at least I’d have that.”

  More likely, Roland had purchased the land so Hugo’s story would stand should someone check it. But Katya couldn’t burst the hope that maybe his father had loved him after all, despite the Fiend. “Well, Lord Hugo, I’ll be anxious to hear what you uncover in the halls.”

  “Oh! I’ve got something for you already. When I went to the library, I heard various rumors as to why the crown prince is keeping to his rooms. During one conversation, when someone wondered aloud about the prince’s seclusion, several of the ladies and gents giggled and wouldn’t tell the reasons for their mirth, no matter how pressed.”

  Katya frowned. Tight lips made her anxious. A courtier who wouldn’t gossip usually knew a measure of truth. “Thank you, Hugo. Please come to me with anything else.”

  Even as he bowed, she left. She needed to outrun any rumors now and find out what Reinholt was up to that made courtiers laugh but not share.

  Reinholt had taken his old apartment, just like hers, with a formal and private sitting room and a separate bedroom. But he’d had all of Brom’s things removed. When Katya’s knock received no answer, she tried the handle to his formal sitting room door and found it unlocked. She poked her head inside. The place was a ruin, one of the chairs knocked over and several articles of clothing strewn about the rug. A vase had been overturned on the large dining table. Where the hell was Reinholt’s valet? Or any of the servants from his retinue?

  For the first time, Katya was glad the children had their own apartment and were looked after by nannies and tutors. She hoped he never let them into this pigsty.

  If the formal sitting room was such a mess…

  She knocked at the door to the private sitting room. Again, no answer, but when she tried the door, it wasn’t locked either. Her ears ringing in the silence, Katya slid her rapier from its scabbard. A servant who had ducked out to fetch something would have locked the door to Reinholt’s personal rooms. He could be in trouble.

  Katya eased the door open just enough to listen and peek inside. She cursed the cold season that had caused her family to move deeper into the palace, away from the chill of windows. Everything was dimmer by candlelight.

  Katya raced into the room and ducked behind a chair so she could look around from cover. Her boot squelched into something. She’d stepped on a tray of food.

  This sitting room was covered with clothing, uneaten food, and the stubs of dozens of candles. Wax had dribbled onto antique tables and fine books. The centuries-old tapestry on the far wall had a chicken leg stuck to it. Katya’s lips pulled back as she finally smelled the place, unwashed bodies and rot.

  A noise came from the bedroom, a loud, clear moan, a man’s voice. Katya sheathed her rapier. Reinholt was grieving again. Perhaps in that grief he’d fired his servants and thrown food at the walls. She crossed to his bedroom, her heart going out to him. “Rein?”

  The moaning ceased, followed by quick sounds like someone shuffling around the room. The door opened slightly, and Reinholt’s sweaty face appeared in the crack. “Little K?”

  He was out of breath, dark blond hair disheveled, and he was naked from the waist up except for his pyramid necklace. He had two days’ worth of stubble on his handsome face, and his light blue eyes were bloodshot. He held a wadded sheet around his lower half.

  Katya’s mouth worked for a moment before she gestured over her shoulder. “Where are your servants?”

  “I sent them away. I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  He gave her the ghost of the old Reinholt leer.

  Katya frowned. People had a right to deal with grief in their own ways, but… “You’re still…” She’d been about to say, “married,” but she couldn’t bring herself to speak it.

  Reinholt wasn’t a fool. “Married?” he asked with a sneer, as if the word were a joke.

  From behind his shoulder, a man’s voice said, “Come back to bed, darling.”

  On the heels of that, a woman laughed. “Yes, it’s cold without you.”

  Katya’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t grief; it was pure hedonism. She grimaced at the idea.

  Reinholt narrowed his eyes. “Our family’s in charge. We can do what we want.”

  Katya gawked at the words so different from what their father had taught them that they nearly knocked the wind out of her.

  Reinholt let the door open a little wider so she could see that he indeed wore only a sheet. “Go away, Little K. Run and tell Ma and Da what the crown prince has been up to. I’ll be too busy doing it to care.” He shut the door in her face.

  Katya gawped a moment longer until the sounds of pleasure resumed. She walked away, woodenly for the first few steps, and then anger quickened her. Hands
ome, charismatic Reinholt never got rejected; he always got what he wanted. And he’d wanted plump, girlish, good-natured Brom, a choice that had seemed out of character for anyone who didn’t know him. He’d picked the one girl guaranteed to be faithful, the one most likely to love him for life. But she’d betrayed him. She was loving and loyal, but to her children before her husband, and that had all come crashing down on Reinholt’s head. Instead of taking it like a prince, he’d decided to be petty and angry to his family and a complete pig with everyone else.

  In the hallway, Katya nearly ran into Lord Vincent. She put an arm out as he started for Reinholt’s door. “He’s busy,” she blurted.

  Lord Vincent closed his mouth on what was probably a greeting and bowed instead. “Highness.” He stared at her, and she realized with a start that he was waiting for her to leave first, a propriety almost no one stood on anymore.

  Lord Vincent wasn’t that old; he only had a few years on Reinholt’s twenty-five. His handsome, unlined face conflicted with his silver hair, but he’d been silver-haired since birth. He seemed stuck in traditions that only made their home in the estates of the oldest nobles. After a moment passed and Katya hadn’t moved, Lord Vincent stepped to the side, still looking at her quizzically, as if wondering if he was in the way.

  “I’m sorry, Lord Vincent. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “Your Highness need never apologize to one such as me.”

  Katya wanted to roll her eyes to the sky. And Starbride wondered why Lord Vincent was classist to the point of bigoted. It was true that nobles sneered at courtiers and courtiers redirected those sneers to commoners, but anyone could be elevated out of each rank. Apparently, Lord Vincent didn’t think that was proper. “What did you want of my brother?”