Redamancy

by T D Cloud

“Milord,” the footman greeted, bowing low as Sorin slipped past him and out the door. Dezik lifted his head once Navidae managed some sound to show he’d heard. “The Lady Lichenith is here to see you. Shall I send her in?”

  She was already here. She was already here in his home, back again, and it was far, far too late to end this before it could begin. Navidae tightened his hands into fists beneath the desk. “Yes,” he said, his voice a ghost of what it used to be. “Send her in.”

  Dezik bowed once more and left to presumably do just that.

  Navidae let out a low breath, fighting the precipice of panic rapidly approaching him from every angle. Think of Khouri, he told himself, struggling to breathe in, then breathe out. Think of Khouri. Beautiful Khouri. Sweet Khouri. He had no idea this was happening, and with any luck he’d wake up to good news without becoming wise to any of this.

  He needed to wake up to good news. Navidae lifted his head, grounding himself with the thought. After all he’d put Khouri through, this was what he deserved. And Navidae always gave Khouri what he deserved.

  The sound of footsteps rose up. Soft in the hall outside his door, then louder, then louder still. Navidae sucked in a breath of air.

  The door opened again and in walked the one person capable of fixing the mess that Navidae’s life had become.

  “Lady Lichenith to see you, Milord,” Dezik announced just behind her. Navidae nodded, dismissing him without daring to look away from the one dominating his attention.

  She walked into the study with her head held high and her nose wrinkled in distaste. Because of her being back in the manor beyond the front parlor or due the reason for her journey, Navidae couldn’t tell. Both were possible. Gods, but it had been an age since he’d last seen her here like this.

  Avarria Lichenith. Once Avarria Marrowick.

  Navidae’s lip twitched, fighting back a humorless smile.

  Once upon a time she’d been only known as mother in his eyes.

  But those days were far behind them both. She looked now as she ever did, since she wasn’t one to let time change her.

  Time and pity and marriage and motherhood had all tried and failed at that. Her hair was still cut short, slicked back from her face in a swoop of blinding white that seemed to spit in the face of Navidae’s own dark rust.

  It was... almost as if it rejected the idea that any part of him came from her. He hated how easily he could believe that was the case.

  Sorin had such high hopes on this working, but all Navidae needed was one look at her to know how foolish such optimism was. Clothing austere, expression stiff... There was no sign of warmth from her. Nothing at all to give Navidae any idea that this might go his way.

  But that was no surprise, he figured. Not really. He’d known from the start how this would end. It was just a shame it had to happen regardless just to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d been right all along, and Sorin wrong.

  He looked at his mother and his mother looked at him. Was she taking him in the way he took in her? She was always watching him, so he had to imagine she wouldn’t find much new that she hadn’t already seen in him before. Under such scrutiny, Navidae tried not to fidget. Her eyes narrowed when he didn’t succeed. He looked at his desk instead.

  It was quiet. Awkwardly so. Navidae struggled not to shift in his seat under the weight of her expectation. They saw each other at every gala they attended, but this had to be the first time in at least a century that they’d been this close to one another. Casual conversation had been lost a long time ago. If she talked to him at all it came in the form of letters. Marked, terse letters outlining how he was to proceed with certain ventures when it coincided with her own.

  But this… None of this was that. No part of this was like anything they’d done in the past. Navidae wasn’t sure how to proceed. The thought of speaking scared him. He was sure if he tried that his voice would dry up in his throat.

  It didn’t surprise him at all that she took his silence as permission enough to go first.

  “Not going to offer me refreshment?” she observed critically, her brow raised in an expression he saw quite often across the hall during most galas. Her voice was a memory straight from his childhood. Soft yet strong, pervasive in a way that duskwebbers were as they tapped their long, spindly legs into the darkness, searching for weakness, for food, for something to poison and consume until the darkness was all it had left.

  Navidae quirked a halfhearted smile. He’d thought it beautiful as a child. “Would you even accept it if I offered?” Now he just hoped his demise would be a quick one.

  Avarria pursed her lips elegantly, turning her attention towards the paintings and shelves littering the walls. They hadn’t been here when the study had belonged to Father. She seemed curious or at the very least intrigued by the changes.

  “I think my memory is still fresh from the last time you did such a thing,” she said quietly, voice dispassionate. “As I recall, accepting refreshment from you was the last thing he ever did.”

  Sighing, Navidae settled into his seat, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on his thumbs. “I only did it because you asked me to,” he said quietly. “Do you really think I’d poison you?” “I don’t know what to think of you these days, Marrowick,” she delivered, turning her gaze on him in the most uncomfortable way she could manage. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if you invited me here today as some misguided attempt at ending my life before I end yours.”

  As painful as reading the notices had been, it had nothing on hearing it said aloud. Navidae closed his eyes, wilting inside. “Would you like a seat?” he offered, moving his hand to rest against the back of his neck. He carded his fingers through his hair, wishing it was more comforting. “I can’t poison a seat, now can I?”

  She stared at him with unfeeling eyes. “I’ll stand,” she answered, crossing her arms in front of her. “I don’t wish to remain here any longer than I must.”

  Navidae nodded. Fair enough. “There are a lot of bad memories here for you, I’d imagine,” he murmured. For the both of them, though he doubted Avarria would admit as much while in the mood she was in.

  “And even knowing that you still wished to call me here,” she probed.

  “There are things we need to talk about.” He folded his hands on the table in front of him, only to change his mind and lay them flat instead. His father used to sit like that, he remembered. He curled his hands into loose fists, swallowing hard. “I’ve probably waited too long to do this. I thought I could get out of this mess myself, but—”

  His mother scoffed, an ugly sound that made every muscle in Navidae’s body tighten instinctively. He glanced up to see her glowering at him. “But you’ve exhausted every option,” she finished for him, eyes narrowing in what might have been glee or perhaps pity. With her, it was hard to tell. “Every option but begging. Am I correct?”

  “There’s more at stake here than just me,” he murmured, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “I can’t let you do this. You have to reconsider. There’s still time to stop this. With your connections to the Council, you can easily call it off before they reconvene to deliver their final decree.”

  “But why should I do anything of the sort?” she asked quietly, her eyes burning. “I know of your assets. I know intimately the scope of wealth the name Marrowick holds. Why should I end it when I’ve already won?”

  “Because,” Navidae said through gritted teeth, “I don’t deserve it being taken from me.”

  Avarria’s eyes widened comically. She lifted her hand to her lips to gasp in faux surprise. “Oh, really? That certainly is news to me. Tell me why you destroyed a House that had done nothing to provoke you, if that truly is the case?” Her tone turned from sarcasm to accusation in the span of a second. When her lips pulled away from her teeth, she looked demonic. “I have worked tirelessly to build something for myself after laying that bastard of a father of yours to his eternal rest. You knew this and yet you
still sought to sunder the foundations upon which I’ve built. If not for power, then what? What is so important that even I should care to preserve it after what you’ve done?”

  “I… I just…”

  What was he to say to her? How could he begin explaining it without involving Khouri? Panic gripped him as he floundered for something to say. Every second he wasted was another lost of Avarria’s patience. It was only a matter of time before it ran out. Fast, he needed to think fast, faster, faster than this…

  “I’m sorry,” he said, the words falling out of him since there was nothing else there to hold them back. Sorin had said to apologize. Mothers were receptive to such things. He looked at Avarria, begging her to be receptive too. “I’m sorry for doing it. It was a mistake. Call off the investigation before—”

  “Before what?” she demanded, crossing her arms. “Before you lose all you have, just as your victims did? A mistake.” She sneered. “You spineless little man. You think you can apologize and have it all disappear just like that? I think not. You made your choice, Marrowick. Have the pride to take responsibility for it.”

  Her words hit him like a punch to the throat. “You can’t just… Mother, I can’t let this happen. You can’t want me to lose everything— everything we killed to have.” He clutched at his hair helplessly, messing up all of Sorin’s hard work. “You still send me letters every week telling me how to run the House.

  You still care for this place. You can’t just…”

  “Can’t just what?” she wondered, her voice distant, painfully distant in a way that took Navidae back. “You’ve proven you can’t be trusted with power. It was I who gave it to you; it’s only right I be the one to take it away. You should be grateful that I’m not asking for your head after what you’ve done. Only your title. I’ll take back the House, these assets, and I’ll have it absorbed into the House of Rotthenia.”

  When she deigned to look at him, it was with cool, dispassionate eyes. And her eyes… the worst thing about them was that they looked like his own. They were eyes he saw every morning when he looked in the mirror, only this time… This time they held no sign they felt anything for him, for anyone.

  “Call it sentimentality that spares you from a worse fate,” she said blandly as if it were a balm. “Calling me here was a waste of time if all you have to offer me are empty apologies and entitled pleas for a mercy you don’t deserve. Good day, Marrowick. Do not call upon me again.”

  No. No. Navidae’s body locked up, his mind woefully blank as he watched his mother turn on her heel and leave him to his fate. Her head was held high, her shoulders straight and posture impeccable. How could she… How could she just… This wasn’t right. She couldn’t feel so coldly to him. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t right.

  She had almost made it to the door when Navidae gave in to the incessant urge to snap. His palms were sweating, his lips burning. Memories from long ago overlaid the moment. He stood up, letting it all burst free.

  “You used to be kind to me,” he called out, his voice echoing in the quiet of the room. His mother’s hand froze on the handle of the door. She didn’t turn around. Maybe because she cared or maybe because she didn’t. Either way, Navidae kept going.

  “Did you think I forgot?” he asked, clutching the edge of the desk as if he’d crumple without its support. “Did you think I forgot how it was when I was a child? How you’d come into my room and soothe me when I cried? Of how you’d hold me when I came into your room? When Fath— When he was at his worst, you sang to me. I remember the sound even now. You can’t—”

  He paused, taking in a deep breath before he broke completely. “You can’t pretend you’ve always hated me,” he said, falling into his chair to hide his face in his hands. No control. He had no control, just like when he was young and weak and dreading every moment he was awake since it brought more of the same at every turn. “What did I do to deserve it? What did I do to make you treat me like this?”

  Silence. Not awkward this time, but weighted, stifling.

  Navidae watched through his fingers as Avarria slowly dropped her hand from the door. She turned woodenly, and suddenly he couldn’t bear to see what expression she wore. He dropped his gaze and stared at the desk instead. His messy, cluttered desk, full of letters and papers and unfinished work he hadn’t the stomach to see to when he was so close to losing everything.

  What he wouldn’t give to be back in bed right now, holding Khouri to his chest as if the world outside the curtains didn’t hold a candle to the one he held in his arms.

  He almost missed the sound of her footsteps crossing the study. Her small heeled boots barely made a sound on the thick rug, but it was more than enough to make Navidae’s heart thud in his chest as if it were trying to break free of his rib cage and run away.

  “You remember that, do you?” she said, voice carefully blank. She was standing next to him now, the edge of her gown just visible out of the corner of his eye.

  “...Did you think I wouldn’t?” His tongue felt clumsy and the words just wanted to spill free without thought to guide them. “This place was cold when he was still alive. You were… You were the only touch of warmth I had until you…” Until she stopped giving it completely, sometime when he began to walk and run and talk, wandering the manor and sticking his nose into everything he could reach. How old had he been? Three? Four?

  Navidae tried not to flinch when she took him by the chin and forced him to look at her. He tried not to lean into her touch either. She stared into his eyes with something akin to scrutiny. The tease of her nails was somehow louder than any threat could ever be.

  Don’t move, the touch said.

  Only… Navidae wasn’t sure he was being threatened. He wasn’t sure what this was at all.

  His mother wetted her lips before speaking. A tremor ran up her arm, a shiver Navidae felt down to his bones. “You look just like him, you know.” A muscle in her jaw went tight. “Like your father.”

  “Is that why?” he breathed, his voice so weak. “Do you hate me because I remind you of him?”

  Her nails curled, pricking his skin. The first touch from her in over a hundred years. Avarria opened her mouth—

  The door banged open and even Avarria couldn’t hide her surprise. They flinched as one, pulling away from one another quickly. Avarria quickly moved away from the desk, her arms crossed in front of her and her back to the room at large. Com- posing herself, perhaps. Navidae stood instinctively, ready to yell—if he could even find the voice to yell—that they were to be left alone, but then he caught sight of who it was standing in his doorway.

  “There you are,” Khouri mumbled, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes with balled up hands. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Where is everyone? I couldn’t find Sorin and none of the servants ever want to talk to me, so...”

  His words faded into the background as Navidae blocked out everything but the reality before him. Khouri was dressed in an over-sized shirt that probably belonged to Sorin, his legs covered by those bloomers from before. The sight was a balm Navidae sorely needed, but his mother was staring too now, her nose wrinkling as she took him in. Khouri lowered his hands and seemed to realize they weren’t alone. He closed his mouth with an audible click as his cheeks colored messily. Without a word he crossed the room in a quick burst, wrapping himself around Navidae before he could react.

  “I didn’t know you had a meeting,” he whispered, tightening his grip on Navidae’s shirt. “Can you make her go? You promised to spend time with me today.”

  “Who is this?” Avarria called out, her voice cool and perfectly blank of tone or opinion. “I see him often at the galas. Another plaything of yours?”

  Navidae cleared his throat, taking Khouri by the shoulders to pull him away from his chest. He looked at Khouri and then glanced at his mother. He bit his lip. “Khouri, this isn’t a good time,” he said quietly, wincing internally when Khouri pouted. “You should go find Sorin.
He’s—”

  “I don’t want to spend time with Sorin,” Khouri interjected, taking Navidae by the wrists to hold him in place. He took in Navidae’s mother, woefully unaware of who she was. “I’m Khouri Lucifin,” he announced, giving her a clipped once over. “I’m his lover. Though, if he keeps trying to brush me off like this,” he said, turning his hard gaze back to Navidae, “that might be subject to change.” “Khouri,” Navidae tried. Khouri just shook his head.

  “Don’t Khouri me. This is just a meeting. You have tons of them. I’m fairly certain you can reschedule,” he said, patting Navidae on the cheek. “And you,” he said, addressing Avarria. “I appreciate you meeting with Navidae for whatever reason, but do you think you could go over whatever business this is later today? Or perhaps tomorrow. If you come to the galas you could always meet with him then. It’s not like we don’t attend them every week.”

  Navidae’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He stared at his lover in shock, too scared to look at his mother. He’d done his best to keep her from ever meeting Khouri. He’d done his best to make sure she had no idea how close they were or the nature of their relationship outside the proprietary physical show they put on every time they were in public together. But a pet—a plaything—would never address its master like this. It would never refer to them as lovers and demand attention while Navidae was with another noble.

  Khouri blinked and cocked his head, cupping Navidae’s cheek in his hand. “What’s wrong?” he whispered. “Are you feeling alright? Maybe you need to go back to bed. You haven’t slept much, have you?”

  “Khouri,” Navidae whispered. He covered Khouri’s hand with his own, pulling it from his face. He glanced at his mother. She was staring with narrowed eyes. “I can’t cancel this meeting. I wish you would have knocked.”

  In that moment Khouri seemed to realize who it was Navidae was entertaining. His smile fell slowly even as his eyes widened. The open way he held himself became closed off, and when Navidae reached for him out of instinct, he went eagerly, hiding a bit behind him the same way a shy child might when guests invaded the home.