Shame clouded Persephone’s face and she looked down to the water.
“I do not have enough to bargain for all of them.”
“I know.” Seraphime turned Persephone, gently tilting her head back to soak her hair. Grabbing the comb, Seraphime went to work detangling it. “This is not your fault.”
“How bad is it? Truly?”
“Why? So you may flagellate yourself further for things out of your control?”
“So I may know what I’ve subjected them to by choosing my priorities.”
Seraphime continued to work the comb higher. “Precisely. So you may flog yourself.”
“Do not make me command it of you,” Persephone hissed over her shoulder.
Finished with her hair, Seraphime turned her sister. Meeting her gaze as she began to clean the grime from her face, she started with the most devastating news. “All of the children have been executed.”
Persephone’s breath shuddered. Seraphime did not wish to continue. Did not want Persephone to share the horrors she’d witnessed any more than she wished to recall them.
“Most of the men have been executed as well. Those kept were the particularly submissive or the old and infirm.”
“And the women?” Persephone asked the question, though Seraphime felt certain she already knew the answer.
“Kept for dual purpose.” Seraphime had seen many a tear. Heard many a plea for help, but Para’s desperate cries haunted her most of all. A tear of her own escaped to roll slowly down her cheek.
Persephone’s gentle hand brushed it away. “I grieve for them.” Unshed tears sounded in her voice. “But I will not let you share their fate. I promised to protect you always. And so I will.”
Her heart clenched at her sister’s words, at the remembered promise. “And who protects you?”
“Some of us are in a better position to protect ourselves.”
“Time’s up.” Seraphime didn’t know which soldier spoke the words.
“They should not, but if anyone mistreats you, tell me immediately. The general and I struck a bargain,” Persephone told her hurriedly as they exited the tub.
“The general is asking questions about you.” Seraphime matched her sister’s urgency.
Despite noticing the guards’ impatience, Seraphime took her time helping Persephone to dry and dress, giving them a few moments more.
“What kind of information?”
“He specifically asked about our relation.”
“He did me as well,” Persephone admitted.
“And how it is that you came to be trained to fight.”
“Yes, I would imagine him quite curious about that. Not much of a story to tell, though. Undoubtedly, he shall find himself sorely disappointed.”
Persephone’s tone had dropped, so it sounded slightly monotone. Seraphime understood immediately. The known story was quite drab indeed. That Persephone mentioned it was a means of alerting Seraphime that it was all she was to share if pressed. The reminder was not necessary, but it was good to know they were in agreement.
“Does he want anything else of you?”
“He said we will speak again tonight.”
Persephone did not look surprised at the news. “I suspect he will be quizzing you quite frequently. Tell him only what you know to be true.” Meaning tell him what was publicly known. Seraphime nodded in understanding. “Answer his questions exactly.” Exactly meaning literally and without embellishment. Again, Seraphime nodded her understanding. Persephone suddenly grabbed Seraphime’s hands, halting her as she finished buckling the zoster. “Seraphime,” Persephone’s gaze was intense. Worried. “I shudder to think what he will do if he catches you in a lie.” A warning.
One Seraphime did not need. She thought of his lingering threat. There was new discoloration around Persephone’s jaw. Not nearly so dark as the bruise donning her cheek, but it was there nonetheless. Seraphime’s gut clenched. Was there anything Persephone wouldn’t do to protect her? She knew the answer to be no. Seraphime was just as resolved to do the same.
“I understand,” Seraphime told her solemnly.
Part of protecting Persephone meant protecting her secrets, making it inevitable that Seraphime lie to him. She would just have to ensure she was never caught.
Chapter 4:
All Secrets Are not Meant to Deceive
The best-kept secrets are those shrouded in truth.
– Persephone of House Galanis, Princess of Galilae
Back in the king’s study, Augustine eyed Seraphime. He’d had her brought to him as soon as she’d finished helping Persephone to bathe.
Gaze to the ground, she waited silently to be addressed. Like Persephone, she didn’t fidget or shift uncomfortably under scrutiny. Not usually, and even then, he’d begun to wonder if it was contrived. He harbored serious doubts she was the good little slave she pretended to be. She was too much like her sister.
“Have you considered my words?”
“I have.” She didn’t look up when she spoke.
“And what have you determined?”
“I will answer any question you ask.”
Augustine thought of how Persephone twisted her replies. Likely Seraphime would do the same. They were practically the same fucking person. Persephone made herself more than challenging enough; it was exhausting to think of dealing with two of her. As Persephone did not seem to consider nondisclosure a lie, Augustine assumed the same would be true of Seraphime. He would have to choose his questions with care.
“Good, then we shall start with something simple. You are the king’s bastard. Persephone’s half-sister. Yes?”
“To my knowledge, that is not true.”
He was going to kill her. “To your knowledge. Do explain that statement, Seraphime, and thoroughly. My patience with you grows thin.”
“I am the bastard of a slave, sir. Her Highness, the queen’s body slave, in fact. My mother died at my birth and as no man claimed me, my parentage cannot be confirmed.” Her visage was the same blank canvas he was already so used to seeing on Persephone.
At least the bit about being the bastard of the queen’s body slave was consistent with what Persephone had said. The rest, although probably true, was a manufactured response and allowed her to avoid answering the question directly. “Your parentage may not be acknowledged, but it is known. The similarities between you and Persephone are too numerous to claim otherwise. A simple thing and yet you continue to deny it. This does not encourage me as to your reliability. Need I find an incentive for you to speak plainly?”
Remorse was evident on her face, and though it looked genuine, he couldn’t help but question her sincerity. After his most recent interaction with her sister, he found himself questioning nearly everything about the two of them.
“Apologies that I have disappointed you, General.” Her head dipped. “Incentive is not required, though I fear things are not so simple as you believe. By his silence, the king has decreed I am not his. To say otherwise is an act of treason. An offense punishable by death.”
“At last the heart of the issue.” She might not have reason to fear the king’s wrath any longer, but he’d finally received an explanation for her silence on the matter that he could understand. The question had been more a test of her honesty, the answer meant to sate his curiosity. Considering her answer honest enough, he moved on to his next test, one he had actual confirmation of rather than mere conjecture. “The secret tunnels through the palace, you know them?”
“Yes.”
“Who else knows of them?”
“To my knowledge, only my mistress and me.”
“Do any of them connect to any of the slave chambers?”
“No.”
“You seem very sure of yourself.” Though he felt the question implied, he knew she would interpret it in whatever way was most useful to her. “Why?” he added by means of avoiding such problems.
Though she never looked up, she smiled slightly. “When we were yo
ung, Persephone hated that we could not make our way to each other’s rooms during the night. After I was sent to my chambers, our fun and games were forcibly ended. They would not have been, had we a way to get to one another.”
Allowing a smile of his own, he imagined a young and impish Persephone searching to find new ways to get into trouble. “Are there any tunnels leading off the palace grounds? Past the wall?”
“No.”
A lie she uttered with total certainty. Had he not heard otherwise from Persephone directly, he might have believed her. “That is not what Persephone said.”
“Oh?” Her surprise appeared authentic. “If she had knowledge of one, she certainly never shared it with me.”
“She began the same lie before remembering she let slip to the little princess that there was a tunnel leading from the Eastern Gardens under the wall.”
“As you will recall, sir, I was not with the princesses when they attempted to flee the palace.”
“You make the assumption this is when she told Kolimpri about the tunnel.”
“Do you not as well?”
“No,” he replied flatly.
“Evidently, I cannot say the same, sir. Apologies. My mistress did not want Princess Kolimpri to get ideas and attempt to explore the tunnels on her own. Keeping them a secret was safer. But if my mistress told you that she admitted it at another time, it must be so.”
The lack of fear she exhibited told him that either Seraphime was telling the truth, which he highly doubted, or she knew she could not be caught in the lie. Persephone would back anything Seraphime said and it was likely Kolimpri’s knowledge was not sufficient to implicate her. As he’d agreed not to harm her, his usual methods were not currently an option. He needed to find another way to encourage honesty. One successful lie only bred more, something he could not abide. Frustration boiled up. Tired and agitated as he was after the day’s events, he couldn’t see the solution. The next time they spoke, though, he would have one.
Augustine took a calming breath. His usual stratagem for eradicating frustration was to either fight or fuck. As much as he might like to beat Seraphime right now, he wouldn’t. That left him one option.
Decided, he stood. “This is not finished, Seraphime.” She curtsyed in deference when he stalked past her. “Take her back to her chambers, and tell Seneca to bring Persephone to me.” He didn’t stop walking or turn around to issue the order. Otho, one of the numerous unranked soldiers Augustine had with him, was so surprised by his sudden exit that he barely managed to nod his respect before Augustine was gone.
* * * *
Persephone’s thoughts remained tangled following her time with Seraphime. For years she’d fought to protect them: all those that served in her father’s house. The number of physical quarrels she’d engaged in on their behalf were countless. Even more numerous were the number of verbal spars she’d engaged her father in. After all, he was the one with the power to enact an actual decree, preventing their misuse. And now? All of it had come to nothing. Worse still, she wondered if she’d done them a disservice. That they’d been spared abuse for so many years meant the injustices they faced now would be all the more traumatic. Through no fault of their own these people depended on the goodwill of others, and she’d failed them miserably.
Consumed with her own self-loathing, Persephone stared at the ceiling as Kolimpri stacked pillows and blankets over top and around her. Koli had informed her that she was making a fortress to protect the two of them from the bad men. This was true play for Koli, a common game she engaged in using different story lines from the list of tales Persephone told her. Stories about quests were Koli’s favorites, but anything that had to do with heroism, good versus evil, or dramatic rescues or escapes grabbed her attention. Persephone had told her many of the traditional stories, but had also taken to making up her own as she didn’t like how women were always the damsels in distress and never the heroes. Although it was true, Persephone didn’t want Koli to believe that the course of her life would always be dictated by the actions of others. Even if it was only pretend, she wanted something more for her.
Presently, Koli was re-enacting the story about the rise of Galilae, when their ancestors had taken control of the island and withstood a siege after building the palace. Until now, the story of her ancestors repelling the uprising had seemed very heroic. Had those under the new Galanis rule been as fearful of the fate awaiting them as Persephone did presently? Had her ancestors felt as hopeless about their ability to repel their enemies as she did now? There was no way to know for certain; the story only spoke of the victory and the strategy for achieving it. Things that did nothing to convey the actual experience. When Persephone refused to make herself smaller – preferring to remain sprawled on her back and lament – Koli teased that because there weren’t enough pillows, Persephone’s lower half would not be safe. Persephone had nearly laughed out loud at the bitter irony of it.
She didn’t bother to stand at the ready when she heard the key slide into the lock. Her eyes flicked to the door briefly before returning to the point directly above her on the ceiling. It was the same soldier who had escorted her previously. He’d also been one of the guards that remained in the bathhouse earlier today and the soldier who had relieved Koli of the carafe the first night. He must be assigned to her, she concluded.
She felt his curious gaze on her a few moments before he spoke. “Princess Persephone, the general requests your audience.”
A blatant lie. The general requested nothing. He commanded it.
“Little Bird, you must open the gates and let me out of the fortress.”
The air rushed out of Persephone when Kolimpri plopped herself unceremoniously onto her stomach. “Are you going on a new quest?”
“No, not a new quest, Little Bird,” Persephone told her.
“What is today’s task?” Kolimpri asked, bouncing enthusiastically.
Persephone stilled her to keep from vomiting at the sudden compression. “I must slay the dragon so that I may save the princess,” she told her, tickling Koli’s sides and eliciting squeals of delight.
Kolimpri flopped sideways onto the floor, allowing Persephone to stand. Persephone ignored the soldier’s amusement as she left the room and made her way toward the king’s chambers.
When she entered, the general stood in much the same place as he had the night previous. Everything looked exactly as it had been, and yet everything was different. Tonight she knew what her previous sacrifice actually spelled, and the thought left her sick to her stomach. Despite the guilt she felt over her decision, she could not allow the detestation she felt for him show. The fates of those dearest to her still rested in his hands. She’d made a bargain and she meant to uphold it no matter the cost. She just hoped she could continue to live with herself after the rubble settled and the dust cleared. As it was, she wasn’t sure how she would manage to do so.
“How fares your sister?”
She couldn’t tell if he was taunting her or if he asked in earnest.
“Kolimpri fares very well. She was amusing herself by making a fort when last I saw her.” She did know that he had been asking about Seraphime, not Kolimpri, and couldn’t resist an opportunity to rankle him. She’d yet to admit to him that Seraphime was her sister, though she knew it to be true.
Obviously she had not hit her mark, because his mouth quirked. “Your other sister?”
“You do know that calling her my sister does not make it so, yes?” Were she a slave, she would not be allowed to contradict him. And though he might like to consider her as one, she would yet take advantage of every opportunity to challenge him, if for no other reason than because she could.
“Nor does denying it make it less true. Answer the question.”
Persephone considered playing dumb, pretending to have already forgotten the question. Instead, she responded, “She fares as expected under the circumstances.”
Augustine had told her that he hated a liar most of
all. This was not a lie, nor was it a completely honest answer as it was left completely open to how he chose to interpret it. He might assume that it meant Seraphime did well because he had thus far upheld his end of the bargain and she’d not been raped. Or he might assume what Persephone actually meant, which was that Seraphime was doing poorly indeed. Whatever horrors she had witnessed weighed heavily on her. Persephone saw the truth of the torment storming in her eyes.
He tilted his head ever so slightly, assessing her. “You are satisfied with her well-being, then?”
Persephone kept her face blank while inwardly smiling. That he asked for clarification confirmed her suspicion: he recognized the duplicity of her statement, but didn’t fully understand it. Anything she could do to frustrate him wrought her great pleasure.
“She stands untouched,” Persephone offered. “Gratitude.” As Seraphime’s emotional well-being was in turmoil, Persephone was far from satisfied, so she twisted her answer to address only Seraphime’s physical well-being.
Persephone watched the telltale tick in his jaw, indicating that Augustine was grinding his teeth. Would he confront her or let the trespass slide? As she had earlier, she hoped he confronted it. In spite of the fact that she’d initiated the agreement between them as well as the fact that she would do anything to protect her family – all of them – she did not want to be here.
“Wine?” The offer seemed automatic. Like maybe he didn’t know what to say to her, so he was changing the subject.
Persephone was completely unwilling to inhibit her faculties around him. He was far too observant and far too dangerous for her to be so disadvantaged in his company. “Gratitude, but I shall pass.”
“Do you not partake?”
There was something about the way he said it that raised the hair on the back of her neck. He was too interested in the answer. So Persephone smiled politely and kept her lips firmly closed by means of response.
He crooked a finger, beckoning her to him. She detested being called like a dog. Feigning a sensual smile, she closed the distance between them, bringing her fingertips to rest on his stomach, just along the tops of his briefs. If her fingernails were but claws, she could tear at the flesh, pulling his entrails from him here and now and ending the standoff between them along with the Finctus’s short reign in Galilae.
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