26 – Chione visits her mom

The Imperial Palace, located at the highest point of the capital city of Eleusis, was not a single building so much as a second smaller town wedged within the greater city.

In fact, the iconic castle that most people associated with the imperial family only housed the Emperor and a few of his select staff. The rest of his family, including his partners and children, occupied smaller palaces that radiated off of the main one like petals on a flower, and the favored status of various relatives could be easily measured by their proximity to its epicenter.

The Imperial Consort’s Residence was so close to the Main Palace that one of its wings almost touched it directly. The open space between them was, aside from a walkway connecting the two, almost entirely swallowed up by the Imperial Consort’s Garden, which had long ago crept partway onto the grounds of the Main Palace and yet had never been pushed back.

Within this garden, hidden by a collection of hills and trees and plants carefully cultivated to look wild when they weren’t, was a stone pavilion. Two figures sat beneath it on either side of a table, the remains of tea lingering before them, as well as a collection of elaborate pastries that remained almost entirely untouched.

Of the two, the man was undeniably more eye-catching. He was impossibly beautiful in a way that made him seem more like a painting than a person, as though the perfection of his form couldn’t quite mesh with the reality around him. The moon-grey robes he wore were simple, but the way they draped his body was stunning, their every highlight and shadow artistically outlining the exquisiteness of his existence. His white hair, which fell in a playful cascade of waves almost to the ground, was lit from behind by a sunbeam, and the molten glow that lent it framed his fair and gentle face like a halo.

Even the way he pinched and adjusted the blanket on his lap between his fingers, their length so smooth and elegant that they could have been carved from marble, had an air of effortless grace to it.

A few servants lurking in the periphery, who should have begun clearing the table the moment tea had finished, instead stared unblinking at him in a daze, unable to look away.

Across from him, Chione sat in the shade, ignoring both the beguiled servants and her mother’s theatrics. 

The entirety of her attention was instead dedicated to the now vacant chair next to the Imperial Consort, and the half-empty cup in front of it.

She rarely got to see her father. It was as though as soon as he appeared he was already gone, leaving nothing but a faint afterimage and the lingering scent of sandalwood.

He hadn’t even finished his tea.

“You’re not already pouting, are you?” her mother asked, displeasure weighing down his melodious voice.

“No, it’s just that you’re hurting my eyes. Father’s already left, can’t you tone it down?” Chione replied, still refusing to look at him. “You know the servants act pathetic whenever you’re like this.”

With a click of his tongue, her mother admonished, “You know, jealousy is unbecoming of a lady.”

Chione sighed, then leaned her chin on the heel of her palm.

What jealousy? All she felt was irritation. She could do that sort of thing too, if she really wanted, since humanity’s concept of ‘beauty’ wasn’t a complicated formula, and she had a great deal of control over her own appearance.

Finding a way to make herself attractive, but not so much that it frightened or shocked people, had taken much more effort.

“Let me guess… it’s because Father’s visiting the Empress later, isn’t he? You really have no shame.”

With a fond smile, his eyes curving like crescent moons, the Imperial Consort replied, “How is it my fault if she can’t hold his attention? Anyway, those angry little faces she makes are so charming… If I didn’t know it’d upset your father, I’d have stolen her away a long time ago.”

When Chione was younger, the realization that her mother often entertained himself by trying to seduce her stepmother had upset her greatly. Back then, having already survived a few of Ladike’s attempts on her life, she couldn’t understand why their mutual enmity didn’t seem to factor at all in his decision.

Now, however, she’d grown used to it, and couldn’t muster any kind of emotional reaction. If anything, the fact that his antics endlessly infuriated Ladike almost made her want to support him.

“Why hold back? Go on and take her—and let me know when she chews through her wrists to escape you, I’d really like to see that.”

“I see you’re feeling feisty today. I’d have thought you’d be in a better mood, considering how pleased with yourself you’ve been all morning,” her mother replied. 

The glamour he was wearing slowly faded as he lost interest in maintaining it. Now the man across from her was still beautiful, but in a way humans could comfortably process. The muddleheaded servants who’d been uselessly standing around roused themselves, as though waking from a shared dream, and hurried to accomplish the tasks they should have finished already.

“If I’m gloomy, you tell me to smile. If I smile, you ask why I dare to be smug,” Chione replied blandly, tracing a finger though the condensation left from an iced dessert on the table. “Would it help if I just remove my face and hand it to you? Then you can sculpt whatever expression you would find acceptable, and save me the tedium of guessing.”

The Imperial Consort laughed, startling the servants who’d just come near.

Most humans found his laughter pleasant, often comparing it to bells or chimes or music in their silly little poems, but Chione had always found it chilling, like the sound ice makes beneath one’s feet right before it breaks.

“Stumbling into the Young Saint is an accident, Chione, not an achievement,” the Imperial Consort continued, that mellifluous voice of his dropping lower. “Any attention your father just gave you is for the Young Saint, not yourself.”

“Hmm,” she replied, non-committal, doing her best to ignore the weight of her mother’s eyes on her.

They were a deep, rich color somewhere between black and blue and green, like the darkness in the heart of a glacier and just as cold.

She’d always found it rather ironic that, out of all the members of the imperial family, people often regarded her mother as the most approachable. Perhaps it was something in the fox-like tilt of his eyes, in the naturally upturned corners of his lips, that seemed to imply he was always a heartbeat away from laughing at a joke only he was in on, a charming mischievousness the unwary mistook for innocence. 

Of course, that wasn’t to say that her mother wasn’t genuinely playful. There was nothing he loved more than games with humans, much in the same way cats adore playing with mice.

“I’m aware,” she conceded.

Chione did not bother to argue that she’d only connected with the Young Saint because the Lady Herself had, out of millions of candidates, chosen Chione as one of Her Heroes.

She knew that even if she’d been born the Saint instead of Euphrosyne, her mother would not be impressed.

In his eyes there was no force in heaven or on earth that could possibly make her worthy. 

At this thought, a little spark of anger flared in her chest, and so she asked, “That reminds me—how is your health, Mother? Since Father’s left, don’t you think you ought to relax?”

That the Imperial Consort was disabled was common knowledge. 

Most people believed that, in order to protect the Emperor from an assassin’s attack, his beloved Consort had selflessly blocked a curse for him, and tragically lost the use of his legs.

This story was almost entirely untrue, starting with the fact that, as far as Chione knew, nobody except for her mother and whoever he’d been fighting with had been there for the incident. Her father had been in no way involved, and even he didn’t know who the culprit was.

Plus, even without any legs at all, a spirit of her mother’s caliber could move around on his own if he really wanted to. He only pretended to need a wheelchair because, in his own words, it gave the Emperor a false sense of control over him, and he claimed this made their relationship sweeter.

That said, the Imperial Consort really was terribly injured.

To her human eyes he looked whole, but when she looked at his mana she could see that great chunks of him were missing, almost as if he’d been violently torn in half. Small amounts of mana seeped from these wounds constantly, inefficiently trying to repair the damage, but it would probably take centuries to make any real improvements.

The mana that spirits utilized for their magic was different from the mana they condensed to form the core of their being. Using the former cost nothing, but using the latter was akin to ripping off your own arm to beat someone else with it. She had no idea who’d pushed him to that limit, or if the wounds had been made by himself in desperation or by the other party’s attack, but imagining how painful it must have been never failed to cheer her up.

Unfortunately, it was something he was sensitive about. The mere mention of it was enough to make something frightening flicker in the depths of his deep blue eyes, to make his smile grow menacing.

Just like that, the brief spark she’d felt was doused out, and Chione bit her lip, wishing she could take it back.

“My injuries are healing just fine. I receive so many offerings, so how could they not be?” her mother replied, his tone light and breezy like he wasn’t upset at all. “Though, that reminds me—that fiance of yours didn’t actually manage to hurt you in your little spat, did he?”

“What? No,” Chione said, sitting up straighter as she unconsciously went on the defensive.

“Then, have you tired of him yet?”

“In what way?”

“I mean, after everything that he’s put you through, aren’t you going to ask me if you can break your engagement with him?”

From his tone, she could tell he wasn’t threatening her. He really had been waiting for her to bring this subject up with him.

For a moment she struggled in confusion, aware that whatever was coming next was designed to hurt her, but unable to guess what it was.

Her mother had never taken an interest in any of Damon’s poor behavior before…

Oh.

She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, followed by a churning weightlessness, like she’d fallen from a cliff only for something big and blunt to knock her off course before she could even touch the ground. 

Damon had been another one of her mother’s tests, and she’d already failed it.

She’d noticed the Prince acting out, but hadn’t thought to question why he had the opportunity to do so. The people who dared to approach him, the public embarrassment he’d caused—

How could any of it have happened if her mother wasn’t letting it?

In retrospect, the answer should have been obvious. If she’d ever stopped to think things through she wouldn’t have had any trouble figuring it out, but she hadn’t, because it never occurred to her that her mother would do something like this, and even now, she wanted to ask him:

Why? 

Why arrange a marriage for her just to destroy it himself?

What was the point? 

Just to disgrace her? 

To remind her she’d been a fool to trust him even this much?

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t understand him. 

Feigning confusion, she took out a fan and opened it as though the redness in her face was from heat, not humiliation.

“Why should I want to break it? One little fight… that’s hardly a good reason to throw away a treaty and a marriage, is it?”

“I’d hardly call it ‘little’—and did you think I’d really get you into something like that without leaving you a way out? The only thing his parents really want is a grandchild of theirs on the throne, so it’s not as though you need to be directly involved…” 

He drew the last word out with a teasing lilt and then paused to study his nails. Chione, being familiar with his mannerisms, anxiously braced herself for whatever came next.

“In fact, it will be simpler if you aren’t, seeing as you can’t have children.”

The motion of her fan paused. 

Even though she’d known something was coming, the casual way he said it hit her heart like a stone.

What did he mean, she couldn’t have children?

His gentle smile widened at her reaction, and he took a leisurely sip of tea before continuing, “I see… did you think you could?”

“I… hadn’t really given it much thought,” she admitted.

The way she’d been raised, the idea of marriage and children eventually working their way into her life had always been framed as an inevitability. Since she’d been struggling so much with forming even basic human relationships, she’d never gotten around to really considering those future details.

Now it turned out that, on some unconscious level, she’d been assuming that even though spirits couldn’t have children, the fact that she was half human made her different.

Apparently, she’d been wrong.

“Perhaps I should rephrase: you might be able to make a child, just not a living one. If you had any idea just how difficult it was to make you, well… let’s just say there’s some very good reasons why none of your elder siblings survived.”

“… I see.”

How strange.

She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to have children, and yet it felt like something intangible had just been stolen from her grasp, leaving her staring at her empty hands in stunned confusion.

Frowning down at the white fabric of her fan, she ran her claw-like nails across its thin wooden slats, scoring long tears into the lace as she said, “Still, would you really hand him over to one of Ladike’s brood? You know she wouldn’t let him survive a week.”

“Of course I wouldn’t give him to her, I’m not mad,” her mother replied, tilting his head to the side so that the snowy waves of his long hair swept across his shoulders. “I’ll just give him to your father.”

Chione unintentionally snapped the fan she was holding in half, all thoughts of maintaining her superficial calm gone in an instant.

“Are you serious!?”

“Why not? Your father's not that old, is he?”

“No, but… mother, Damon is a man.”

Chione thought, And more importantly, he’s engaged to me! 

He’d even tried to kiss her once.

Oh, gods. Even if they’d never actually done anything, just the idea of handing him over to her own father sent nauseous shivers down her spine.

“So?” 

Chione pressed her lips together, forcing her pounding heart to slow down as she choked back her disgust.

She couldn’t afford to speak carelessly. It wasn’t impossible for two men to have a child, but it was a long and involved process that most were unwilling to go through, and she was certain her father wouldn’t be willing to carry that burden…

Damn it, even if she hadn’t forgiven Damon for his nonsense, she still didn't believe he deserved whatever fresh hell this was.

Trying to approach from a different angle, she cautiously asked, “Would Father… really be willing to do that?” 

“I’m sure I could convince him… although, if he really makes a fuss, I could just give the Prince to one of his surviving siblings… breeding is about all they’re good for,” the Imperial Consort murmured, his expression bored, as though the entire set-up was more of a hassle than it was worth. Then, as if finally catching onto Chione’s revulsion, he chided, “Oh, don’t give me that look—you’ve never made a deal with a human, have you? If you did, you’d understand that fulfilling the agreement is my highest priority. I can’t afford to quibble over the methods.”

“… No, it’s fine. I understand.”

As horrified as she was, in a way she felt lucky.

If he’d had simply asked her if she wanted to get rid of Damon at the beginning of their conversation, she probably would have agreed to it without a second thought.

Even though she was sure her mother only revealed this much to torment her, it still gave her an opportunity to devise a way out of this quagmire.

Chione knew better than to try appealing to her mother’s sense of morality, so she lowered her eyes and adopted a somewhat petulant tone as she tried a different tactic.

“I don’t intend to get in the way of your deal, but… Mother, you already gave him to me, and I’m not done with him yet.”

“Oh? I’m surprised, considering you’ve already failed to control him once… or is it that you have yet to get your fill of shame?”

She clenched her fists under the table, the splinters from her broken fan digging into her palm as she calmly replied, “Mother, he didn’t just embarrass me, he also attacked the Young Saint, and I haven’t had time to hold him accountable for either of those things yet. Furthermore…”

Pausing, she mentally apologized to Euphy.

“Well, you’ve met Calliope, so I’m sure you know just how self-righteous Saints can be. If Euphrosyne doesn’t approve of how we handle the Prince’s matter, Father might lose his chance to win her over before he even meets her.”

Her mother tilted his head in thought, annoyance and contempt flashing across his face at the mention of Saint Calliope.

“You know, you’ve actually managed to make a good point. It would be a shame to offend the Young Saint over something so trivial, and it’s not as though I’m too pressed for time… so I suppose I can let you have him for a little longer.”

“… Thank you, Mother.”

“If that’s all you have to say, then you’re dismissed,” he replied, gesturing at her with a lazy wave of his hand.

As much as she desperately wanted to leave, Chione hesitated.

She’d promised herself that she’d talk to him about how she lost control of her mana the other day, but she didn’t want to hand him one more vulnerability when she couldn’t guarantee he’d be willing or able to help her…

She couldn’t do it. Her mouth felt like it was glued shut, and even if she could have opened it, there was no air in her lungs with which to speak.

So instead she just bowed in farewell, then headed out on the path that led back to the main palace.

The flower-strewn walkway before her was fragrant, quiet, and peaceful, disrupted only by the shushing sound of a soft breeze, but its serenity couldn’t seem to reach her.

She felt like an odious, sticky film was clinging to her entire body, and if she could have crawled out of her own skin to get away from it, she would have.

Noticing something in her hand, she looked down and saw that she’d unconsciously pulled out her receiver.

She wanted to send Euphy a message.

She wanted someone kind to hear her voice and ask her what was wrong.

But she wasn’t sure how to explain it. 

People always seemed to think she was somehow a part of her mother's decisions, as though by virtue of being his daughter every step he took was half her fault. 

After a moment, she put the receiver away.

The embarrassment she felt from Euphy witnessing her fight with Damon still stung. Compared to the stress of keeping her thoughts to herself, the idea of exposing even a little more ugliness was intolerable.

By the time she reunited with Aidos and Soteria at the palace’s side entrance, she was almost back to normal, though now accompanied by a faint ringing in her ears.

Her knights both stiffened with concern when they saw her, but before either of those two idiots could say anything, Chione held up a hand and said, “I know, I already know, it’s not that bad, just shut up and give me a minute.”

Her condition might not be directly caused by emotion—otherwise, she would have exploded when she was with her mother—but it was certainly linked to it, and spending any amount of time with the Imperial Consort always set it off eventually.

Though, never actually in front of him, thank the gods.

Ignoring the knights, she pressed her aching head up against the cool, pale wall of the palace and focused on the firmness of the stone beneath her palms.

Amidst the sound of ringing, and the feeling like her body was a thin bag filling too quickly, she was reminded of an old memory.

Every Covenant Day the imperial chefs would go all out constructing a replica of the Main Palace made from sugar. She’d only just learned to take human form the first time she saw it, and to the patissiere’s credit she found it so lifelike that she initially mistook it for a dollhouse. She’d never had one herself, but she’d heard that lots of human children had them, and the tiny bricks looked so much like the palace’s shimmering white stone that nothing Laertes said could convince her it was actually a dessert.

After going back and forth with him a few times, in a fit of pique she decided to prove him wrong by poking one of the walls, only to see her entire hand punch right through it. Shocked, she tried to remove it quickly, but her clumsiness only made the initial breakage worse, and that entire wing of the miniature palace quickly fell in upon itself.

Now, standing with her hands pressed against the palace today, she felt like she was somehow experiencing that moment all over again, but in reverse.

She knew the stone in front of her was real and solid, yet she could not shake the sudden suspicion that this was just an illusion, that it was in fact as thin and fragile as a sheet of melted sugar, and if she just gave it the slightest push she could shatter it like she had before.

A tiny whisper in her heart encouraged her to try, but she bit her lip and used the pain to ignore it.

When the discomfort finally ceased, she looked back again and saw her knights standing in the same position as before, their idiotic expressions implying it was because they’d been too afraid to move.

To her surprise, she found the sight of their ugly faces kind of comforting. It was strange, especially considering how long their original owners had haunted her nightmares, but something about their obvious cluelessness made her feel like she didn’t have to hide how upset she was.

Giving them a small smile, she tried to lighten the mood by saying, “Oh, look—I see you two didn’t set anything on fire while I was distracted.”

“Were we supposed to?” Aidos asked, her gravely voice tinged with confusion.

“… No, I meant that as a compliment. Don’t set any fires without my permission, for any reason. Ever.”

Reminded of how much trouble they usually caused, Chione wordlessly took back the thought about feeling comforted by their presence.

Pausing to examine the scenery around them, she melted the frost that had accumulated and noticed that underneath it Soteria had used her magic to protect the plants. Giving the knight an approving nod, she added, “Sir Soteria, you can retire a few hours earlier today.”

She caught the wide grin Soteria immediately flashed at Aidos, as well as the dismay on Aidos’ face, but chose to ignore it and entered the palace without waiting for one of them to get the doors, leaving them both scrambling to catch up with her.

Her family’s private portal was located deep beneath the Main Palace, hidden behind a series of increasingly laborious security measures, but she didn’t even make it through the first checkpoint before she was stopped.

Prince Laertes was waiting in the lobby outside of it, his arms crossed and his permanent scowl etched even deeper than usual. Four of his knights stood around him, and every one of them bristled when they spotted her, as though she might spontaneously sprout fangs and lunge at them at any moment.

Instead she hid her annoyance behind a gentle smile, slowed her walk, and called out in a soft voice, “Hello, Little Brother. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“… First Princess. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Is there an occasion?”

No matter how close they’d been as children, those days were long behind them.

She was lucky if he was willing to look at her anymore, much less try to speak to her.

Still, she couldn’t help but notice his sallow skin, the thinness of his cheeks, and the dark circles under his eyes with displeasure, thinking that since he had the audacity to cut her out of his life he ought to at least make an effort to take care of himself.

“Mm,” was all he replied, and with a gesture to his knights, they moved to reveal another party.

To Chione’s barely concealed shock, it was a child.

“I don’t think you’ve had a chance to meet the Sixth Princess, have you?” Laertes asked, putting a heavy palm on the girl’s head of fluffy black curls and steering her forward. “This is Memnosyne. Memnosyne, this is your eldest sister, First Crown Princess Chione.”

It was a credit to Chione’s training that her smile didn’t falter, because she was absolutely certain she’d never once seen or heard of this girl before. Even if her relationship with her siblings could be best described as ‘abysmal,’ she’d always made an effort to keep up with their lives from a distance, so how the hell had she missed an entire child? 

And for that matter, why was Laertes willing to introduce her?

When she was younger things had been different, but nowadays, except for when official events forced the matter, Empress Ladike barely permitted her to interact with any of her siblings.

Memnosyne pushed up against Laertes’ hand, squiggled out from under it, and then performed a clumsy little bow as she called out in a timid voice, “Um… Hello, Eldest Sister.”

Her hands twisted in the fabric of her dress as she anxiously awaited an answer, like she wasn’t entirely sure that Chione would be willing to respond.

Despite her deep misgivings, Chione felt uncomfortable seeing that kind of look on such a young face, so she fell back on her experience as a big sister and crouched down to Memnosyne’s level, saying sweetly, “Hello, Sixth Sister. You can call me Chione. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Memnosyne perked up at this friendly response and tentatively approached. When Chione didn’t retreat, she grew bolder and asked, “First Sister, you’re so pretty, how did you get your hair so big?”

“It’s because your First Sister only eats marshmallows,” Chione replied in a serious tone, grabbing a lock of her thick, wavy white hair and offering it to Memnosyne. “Would you like to touch it?”

“What? Really!?” the little girl replied, her sparkling red eyes widening, only for her to suddenly narrow them and furrow her little eyebrows. “No, that’s not true, you’re lying!”

“Can you prove it?”

“What? But how would I…” 

Memnosyne, momentarily confused by this challenge, was then quickly distracted by the hair. Taking it in her hands and stroking it gently, she exclaimed,

“Wow, so soft… just like a kitty…”

Chione’s expression stiffened and Laertes gave her a sarcastic look.

Figuring out how to become a human had been complicated, so Chione had cut a few corners towards the end. Rather than grow human-like hair, she’d simply done away with her leopard form’s coarse outer-coat and grown her softer under-coat to be thicker, longer, and wavier.

Laertes had always insisted that even if it looked normal, anyone who touched it would realize it wasn’t, and used to badger her constantly about fixing it.

Because of that she’d refused to change it out of principle, and assumed that nobody else had noticed because nobody else had said anything.

Smoothing out her face again, Chione asked, “How old are you, Memnosyne?”

“I’m seven!” the little girl declared, her big smile revealing a missing tooth in the far corner of her mouth.

Above her, Laertes subtly shook his head and held up six fingers.

Chione repressed a snort, then turned her attention back to the little liar who was now trying and failing to braid the hair she was holding and said, “Really? But you’re so big, I’d have thought you’d at least be ten.”

Memnosyne giggled, her gap-toothed grin growing smug at this obvious flattery, and as she did the shape of her eyes struck Chione as very familiar.

They looked just like her own eyes, and the eyes of her father.

They were even the same color.

Maybe if she could have had a daughter, she might have looked like this girl.

The sharp pang she felt at this thought sobered her, and the brief joy she’d felt upon meeting Memnosyne faded.

Studying her closer, it was easy to see that this child, wherever she’d come from, had been raised with care. Her olive-toned cheeks were plump and rosy, her black hair was glossy, and now that her initial shyness was gone, her eyes were bright and friendly, undimmed by any fear or calculation.

There was no way this girl had been raised in the palace.

“Sister, who are they?” Memnosyne asked, peeking behind her.

Chione turned to see Aidos and Soteria both standing very still, their eyes alight with barely restrained interest.

The Imperial Consort’s attitude towards his child was the exception among spirits, not the rule. The vast majority of them adored the young of any species, much in the same way many humans long to play with kittens or puppies, and it was obvious that they both desperately wanted to be introduced.

However, their scarred and distorted faces meant that those two never got the chance to interact with human children. Usually the ones they ran into immediately started crying.

“Them? Those are my guard knights.”

“Oh, can I meet them too?”

“Um, if you want? Go ahead…?”

Given permission, Memnosyne ran towards Aidos and Soteria, startling them both as she enthusiastically introduced herself.

Chione frowned, watching this in some confusion.

Why did she get the impression that Memnosyne was more eager to meet her guards than she had been Chione?

Dismissing this thought, she stood up straight again and stared at Laertes, waiting for an explanation.

“… Mother was hoping you’d be willing to have tea with us before you left.”

Ah.

The disparate pieces of this puzzle finally came together, and as they did, she let out a soft self-deprecating laugh.

Chione’s longing for familial affection had never been a secret, but Empress Ladike, for all her faults, had always been unwilling to put her own offspring at risk. Because of this, Ladike had never succeeded in manipulating her directly.

The reason she’d never heard of Memnosyne before was because this girl wasn’t Ladike’s biological daughter. 

Memnosyne was probably one of her human uncles’ unclaimed mutts, left to run around outside until Ladike scooped her up and brought her indoors now that she could serve some kind of purpose.

Unfortunately for this child, Chione knew better than anyone else that Ladike’s affection didn’t extend to strays.

“Adopted?” she asked, keeping her voice down.

Not that they were in danger of being overheard. Memnosyne was now fully engrossed in chattering at her knights, and was currently squeezing Soteria’s considerable biceps while Aidos tried to pull her attention away with a ribbon.

“Mm,” Laertes confirmed, his turquoise eyes averted in guilt.

“Ha…” 

Chione’s polite smile grew cold and bitter.

Memnosyne wasn’t a sister, she was an offering.

The Empress wanted Chione to do something, and so long as she did, she’d finally get a sibling she could be close to. 

And if Chione actually did grow fond of the girl, she would be an easy handle with which Ladike could continue controlling Chione in the future.

Judging by Laertes’ grim expression, he knew exactly what was going on and wasn’t happy about it either.

For a moment Chione was tempted to ask him if he felt ashamed, if he understood just how cruel it was to treat a child like a gift to be traded, if he realized that one day Memnosyne would grow up and that his role in this might come back to haunt him.

In the end, she didn’t bother.

If she and Laertes had one thing in common, it was the type of mothers they endured.

However, that didn’t mean she had to be nice about it.

“You know, I hear we both ran into a mutual acquaintance the other night,” Chione said to Laertes, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with him and quietly enjoying the way this made his knights twitch. “Though, from what I heard, she doesn’t seem to like you much… you must have really offended her.”

Her brother crossed his arms, his already gloomy face growing unhappier as he muttered, “What does it matter to you?” 

Chione leaned even closer to him and whispered, “Even with your dismal reputation, don’t you think you’re being a little too obvious? What if your mother or our father catches on?”

“… They won’t.”

“And if they do?”

“Then I’ll handle it.”

Chione let out a quiet laugh, enjoying the way Laertes’ steadily increasing misery filled the air around her like a storm of dark clouds.

“Brother, I’m sure you know what will happen if you get careless and lose your position.”

“I do, which is why I don’t need you to remind me,” Laertes hissed, his own temper finally flaring.

“Come now, aren’t you tired of living like this? Lying to your parents, your siblings, to the country—what do you think they’ll do, what do you think they’ll feel, when they find out what you agreed to?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Her voice growing silky and persuasive, Chione asked, “Be honest, Laertes… Does our deal still feel worth it?”

The Imperial Consort was under the impression that Chione had never made a deal with a human, but he was wrong.

She had, only once, and she’d always regretted it.

The only silver lining was that Laertes regretted it just as much.

“Still worth it,” he spat back at her.

“Oh…”

She let out a disappointed little hum, feeling frustration well in her chest.

Deals were a double-edged sword for spirits. On the one hand, they allowed them to conveniently anchor themselves to existence in a way humans, who were firmly entrenched in reality by default, couldn’t understand.

On the other, that benefit was exactly what made it so hard for spirits to break them. Chione, despite being half and half, was spirit enough that she’d failed every time she’d tried.

Unless she could convince Laertes to give up, she was stuck with it.

“You know I’d never hurt you or our other siblings, don’t you? If you don’t believe me, we could even make another deal over it.”

“Only an idiot would believe you.”

“Doesn’t that mean you’re qualified?”

His fists balling, he finally snapped and whirled on her like he was about to hit her, only to find himself face to face with her innocent expression as she simultaneously called out, “Memnosyne, would you like us to join you for tea with the Empress?”

Distracted from the knights who’d been entertaining her, Memnosyne looked back and quickly agreed, “Yes, let’s!”

Laertes, who’d frozen in place, now had to force himself to relax and act like nothing had been wrong. 

“Can we hold hands?” Memnosyne asked, bouncing back to them like a puppy.

Laertes, still on edge from Chione’s teasing, flinched away when Memnosyne reached for him. 

Memnosyne hesitated, clearly shocked by this rejection, but rather than try and comfort her Laertes turned away and stomped off, his face and neck flushed with repressed anger.

“Did I…do something to make Second Brother mad?” she asked, her small face creased with hurt and worry.

“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.”

Chione, the actual source of the conflict, cooed in a comforting tone as she gave Memnosyne’s fluffy hair a gentle stroke, “Second Brother is just jealous that you gave my knights so much more attention than him.”

“But… I’ve been with him since this morning…”

“Yes, but he feels lonely easily, so try to spend a little more time with him even when he's being grumpy, okay?”

Memnosyne, taking all of Chione’s advice at face value, agreed with concern, “Okay… I don’t want him to feel lonely.”

“That’s because you’re too sweet. Now, come on, let’s catch up with him, I’ll even make him apologize to you.”

“No, it’s okay, he doesn’t have to!”

“Yes he does. I can’t just let him bully my Sixth Sister, can I?” Chione teased, her eyes curving with amusement as she held out her hand. 

“Hehe… okay!” Memnosyne chirped, eagerly grabbing onto Chione’s hand, the distress she’d felt over Laertes’ rejection already forgotten. 

With the bait she’d been offered in tow, Chione set out to find the trap.