31 – Psyche gains a nemesis

In a dark, unlit dorm room, Psyche lay on her bed, eyes shut as she listened to the wind outside rattle the windowpanes.

A soothing fragrance lingered in the air from incense she’d lit earlier, there was a wall of comfortable pillows arranged around her body like a cuddly barricade, and she was wearing her most comfortable nightdress. The only thing missing was her dog, although this could arguably be considered an improvement, since he tended to twitch and grunt a lot in his sleep.

Overall, she’d put together an ideal set up to get a good night’s sleep, and once again, none of it was working.

Her eyes snapped open as she smacked a pillow aside, punching a hole in her pillow fortress so she could glare at the faintly illuminated clock on her side table in frustration.

It was barely even midnight. Normally she spent a minimum of four hours each night trying to sleep, as though by combining this with her old bedtime rituals she might trick her brain into going to sleep out of habit.

It hadn’t worked so far, and tonight was bound to be another failure.

Even if she hadn’t been suffering from insomnia, she simply felt too disgruntled to sleep, unable to shake the feeling that the Princess was going to be a big problem.

Compared to some of the fantastical rumors attached to the Princess’ name, it was almost a disappointment to discover that she was in fact nothing more than a petty, immature, and manipulative person. Unfortunately, that combination meant she was probably vindictive too, so the likelihood that she’d stop trying to sabotage Psyche now that she’d started was depressingly low.

Plus, considering her status, the kind of damage she could do if she really wanted was worrisome, to say the least.

Psyche sighed and pinched her eyebrows, praying silently, Dread Lady, please let me be wrong, please let me be wrong…

It was absurd. Even if their dislike was mutual, there was no denying the fact that they’d have to find a way to work with one another until the Calamity ended. Causing problems now would only make both of their lives harder, wouldn’t it? There was also the fact that, due their enmity with the Empress, Psyche’s house would almost certainly be forced to back the Princess in the fight for succession eventually. Was the Princess’ disrespect just a reflection of knowing that they had no other choice, or was something else going on?

Psyche sat up in bed, scowling, and knocked a few more pillows away. Then she unwound her headwrap, stored it, and picked up her receiver.

Cradling it in her lap, she stared down at its cracked surface, unsure if she was overreacting or if this was a justifiable reason to give in and reach out to her mother.

… No If she was being honest, she knew it wasn’t.

She just wanted an excuse to speak to her mom again.

Atalanta could be a frustrating person to talk to, but that was only when she was trying to teach her something. At all other times she was the steadiest person around, as though the immensity of her mere existence was heavy enough to pull everyone into her center of gravity, naturally keeping them from floating away.

Thinking about it, Psyche felt some shame. The only time she’d ever seen her mother panic was after Psyche had woken up from her illness, and it had shocked and unsettled her so badly that instead of trying to reassure her, Psyche had freaked out right back. At the time, the realization that her mother didn’t believe she could succeed, that she didn’t trust her to know her own limits, was a betrayal that cut Psyche deep, destabilizing the foundation upon which she’d built all her confidence.

Yet now, even though they'd been in a silent standoff for weeks, even though the hour was late, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that if she messaged her, the Duchess would answer, and she would offer to help.

That idea should have been comforting, but mostly it just made Psyche feel guilty, like she was the only one in the wrong.

She struggled with the idea for a while, but finally set her receiver aside. 

She still felt too agitated. If she finally gave in and reached out now she was afraid she’d start another argument, so she decided to try and calm down first.

Preferring the dark, she got up without turning on the lights and moved to her desk. With her excellent night vision she could easily make out the artificing books piled on top of it, and the half-finished practice works strewn around them.

While artificing was new to her, she didn’t dislike it. Layering commands to form more complex magical arrays was similar to a lot of the more advanced healing spells she’d learned before, and could even be considered easier since she had to inscribe them into materials instead of casting them mentally on the fly, and while some of the arithmetic was unfamiliar, she liked the challenge.

Her problem was actually making things. She’d never had this kind of hands-on artistic hobby before, so even when what she made worked, she couldn’t feel satisfied because all her artifacts looked so clumsy and crude. Just seeing them laying there on her desk, ugly and misshapen, was like a dagger to the heart of her perfectionist nature.

Pretending not to see them, she turned her attention to a task she actually liked.

By virtue of being an heir, her dorm was a single room, so while not any bigger than the others the university provided it was at least hers alone. Because of this, other than her furniture, the rest of the space was crammed to the gills with specimens of fungi. Some fruited in glass cases from logs or soil, others were enclosed in tinted terrariums or boxes. A few even emitted their own bioluminescence, casting an eerie glow in parts of the room.

When most people thought of mages who specialized in the life domain, they overwhelmingly imagined people like her cousin Thalia, who could effortlessly grow plants and tame beasts. Controlling fungi, which were just as much a part of that domain as the rest, was an unpopular field pursued mostly by an eccentric few.

That said, Psyche did not consider herself an eccentric.

She considered herself a very normal, serious kind of person.

It just so happened that fungi really seemed to like her anyway. 

She sort of liked them too, even if she found their enthusiasts overbearing. Their variety and potential felt endless, and arguably some of them were quite cute.

For example, the adorable specimen currently occupying a terrarium on the other side of her desk. It was a tall, pale, and spindly looking mushroom with a wide drooping cap, and it glowed with a faint ghostly green light in the dark.

She reached over, cast a decontamination spell, and opened its case.

While she couldn’t take medicine for her sleep disorder, she’d nevertheless been inspired to try solving that problem for other people, and this particular cultivar was one of her newest attempts. It looked ready to drop its spores, so she extended her finger and gave one of the little caps a soft boop.

The spores themselves were too small to be seen with the naked eye, but she could still intuitively sense them as they fell. With a soft glow of blood-orange light, she drew them towards her hand and then re-directed them into one of her storage rings.

Spores were easy to store since they were so tiny that billions of them barely took up any space, and she could mature them very quickly when she wasn’t growing them naturally for the fun of it. Depending on what storage devices she wore, she could carry hundreds of different species around with her wherever she went.

As a result she was, at all times, exceedingly well stocked up on potential snacks.

Plucking the now spore-less mushroom in front of her, she decontaminated it to remove any remaining substrate, and bit down on it raw.

Ah. It was a shame normal people would have found digesting these so uncomfortable. Even uncooked she thought they had a crisp and pleasant texture, with a flavor reminiscent of sweetened pistachios. 

Maybe if she could cultivate a less poisonous strain later, she’d fry some up for Thalia to try.

Alas, just as she was about to gently bop another one, something outside touched the wards on her balcony door.

She stiffened, automatically reaching for the panic stone set in one of her earrings, but hesitated as she touched it.

Understandably, the usual protocol for a stranger suddenly appearing on her eighth-floor balcony in the middle of the night was to call for help. It had been a long while since the last time anyone had tried to assassinate her, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t impossible that some new party had decided to give it a go.

However, while she couldn’t see through the gauzy white curtains hanging across her balcony doors, she could still make out two dim points of light beyond them, burning like hot coals.

That color… looked a little familiar?

Though Psyche immediately dismissed the absurd idea that thought inspired, she nevertheless let go of the earring and crept across the room, her bare feet silent on the plush rugs covering the floor. Just as she arrived at the door, about to pull back the curtain, she paused again.

She could feel it as the outermost wards that protected her room began to disappear, one right after another.

Most people undid wards by finding the spell’s terminus and working backwards to disable it from there, which normally took a great deal of time even for the experienced. However, this person was reaching in, pinching the ward seemingly at random, and then pulling the whole thing apart with the ease of unraveling a sweater.

It was an impressive level of skill Psyche had never encountered before, and if not for the fact that the person behind it was trying to break into her room, she would have loved to pull them aside and ask how they’d learned to do that.

A series of wet thuds and a surprised grunt sounded outside the door.

Whoever it was, despite their skill, had messed up and triggered one of the wards.

Seized with a sudden sinking feeling, Psyche tore back the curtain, opened the door, and came face to face with the Princess.

Oh no, she thought. 

I was right. 

It really is her.

The Princess stared back at her with a look of mild confusion, as though she hadn’t expected to see Psyche either, like this was all just a late-night misunderstanding and she’d mistakenly tried to enter the wrong room.

Then, in belated synchrony, both of them looked down at the profusion of ironwood branches speared through the Princess’ chest.

Bright red blood was staining her pale night robe at an astonishing speed, and soon it began to drip from her slightly parted lips, trickling down her chin.

Am I… having a nightmare?

Psyche was no stranger to gore, and she’d encountered far more terrible injuries in much more dangerous situations, but none of that was with a member of the imperial family involved.

She pinched herself and, feeling the pain, pinched herself again even harder in growing panic.

Oh no. Oh no, she was awake, and in the growing horror that realization brought she blurted out, 

“What the hell!? You can’t do this here!”

The Princess furrowed her brows in offense, moved her lips to reply, but coughed up a bubbling mouthful of blood instead.

Then she collapsed, the branches loudly cracking and snapping under her weight as she fell.

“No, no no no, wait—!” Psyche gasped, reaching out to catch her, only to think better of it and pull her hands back last second because she knew she couldn’t just touch an imperial without permission—

Which resulted in the girl hitting the stone with a heavy thud, followed by an agonized groan.

Pulling at her braids, Psyche paced back and forth a few steps as she mumbled in disbelief, “Who does this? Why did you do this? What the fuck is wrong with you!? Oh gods—oh Mother, oh Lady, save me because what the fuck, what do I do?”

A gurgling cough from below caught her attention, and Psyche looked down to see the Princess glaring back up at her. Lifting her hand weakly, she made a helpless and impatient gesture, to which Psyche said, “Right—right—I’m going to interpret that as permission.”

The wind whipped the fabric of her nightdress as she crouched down next to the Princess, still somewhat unwilling to touch her but aware that she couldn’t treat her if she didn’t. Fighting back her reluctance, she pressed down on the worst of the girl’s injuries, only to realize very quickly that there were too many of them for her to have much effect.

What she did manage to do was make the Princess’ expression tighten in pain, and was rewarded for her efforts with a bloody wheeze and a sarcastic eye roll.

Grinding her teeth so hard they squeaked, Psyche activated her magic to inspect the injury and glared right back.

“Oh, sorry, did you have some fucking feedback for me? Then maybe you should have considered that before you got yourself impaled on my wards, you ridiculous bitch! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking!?” 

As she complained, most of her attention was focused on evaluating the damage done to the girl’s body. In a way, it was amazing how thoroughly a mid-level spell had managed to penetrate flesh and bone...

Psyche abandoned her diagnostic spell and pressed down so hard on the wounds that the Princess let out a strangled cry.

“You’re not wearing any mage armor!? You tried to break through my wards and you didn’t even think to wear fucking armor? Are you an idiot, or did you come here just to die!?”

All of her wards were organized in layers of lethality, with the outermost layer existing mostly as a warning. 

The second layer was meant to be only somewhat more dangerous, but it had been designed under the assumption that anyone trying to break in would have at least done the bare minimum to protect themselves first, which clearly the Princess hadn’t.

If she weren’t already dying, Psyche might have tried to kill her.

“You are so, incredibly fucking lucky that I’m a healer.”

As she said this, Psyche extended her magic again, planning to stop the bleeding, but found herself repelled back.

Confused, she tried it twice more, only to receive the same rejection.

“What the hell? Why isn’t it…?”

Who in their right mind, dying from a terrible injury, would repel a healing spell? It wasn’t like Psyche actually wanted to hurt the Princess, did she?

… Oh gods, wait, did she??? 

Was that impulse slipping through, forcing the Princess to interpret her magic as an attack?

No, that couldn’t be right. She’d trained to heal people through any negative emotion, she’d practiced on the worst of the worst, and no matter how much someone disgusted her, no matter how much she might loathe them, she’d never failed to overcome that before, so why—?

Beneath her hands, the Princess went limp, her white eyelashes fluttering shut.

“Oh,” Psyche murmured, looking down at all the startlingly vibrant blood.

Maybe simple malice wasn’t the problem.

After all, the moment the Princess injured herself on that ward, Psyche’s life was effectively over.

The fact that it wasn’t her fault didn’t matter. Whether the Princess lived or died, Psyche would take the blame, her family would take the blame, and everything she’d ever feared would finally come true, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

It was all so incredibly… unfair.

Maybe she wasn’t the nicest person, but she was sure she’d never done anything to deserve this.

She just couldn’t understand why everything had to be so hard all the time, why it always felt like so many people wanted to punish her just for being alive, and now…

Now even her own magic was betraying her. 

Why had she struggled so long when everything could end so quickly? What was the point of fighting back when the hits never stopped coming, one after another, no matter how much she worked or how carefully she prepared?

She slumped over, tears pooling in her eyes and dripping down her face, only to fall one by one onto the now still body beneath her.

She was so tired. 

She didn’t want to do this anymore.

Taking in a shaky breath, she looked up at the sky.

If she ignored the girl dying in front of her, it was actually pretty nice out tonight. 

The wind was heavy, but not so much that it caused any real inconvenience. It felt cool against her wet cheeks and sent soft ripples through the fabric of her dress, tickling her skin.

There weren’t any stars out, but the clouds were lit from behind by the moon, and the sound the trees made as the wind shook their leaves was like a gentle roar. In a few hours, the horizon would begin to brighten, and a new day would start.

In the grand scheme of things, nothing she did would ever change much.

The world would spin, the sun would rise, and whether or not she gave into despair now would never move a mountain or bend a river.

… But it would bother her. 

Even if her struggles were meaningless, as long as she existed, it would bother her.

With a long, shuddering sigh, she activated a storage bracelet, withdrew a potion, and uncorked it.

She’d never been the kind of person who could just let someone die in front of her, even if that person was a phenomenal asshole who absolutely deserved it.

But as she moved to pour it, a cold hand grabbed her wrist. 

She flinched, and a voice said, “Gods above, are you crying?”

Psyche looked down to find the Princess staring back up at her. 

“…What?”

Somehow speaking into the air without moving her mouth or throat, the Princess continued, “I was waiting for you to try to finish me off, but now I just feel embarrassed for you.”

A faint blue glow began to pulse beneath her skin, illuminating the air around her as she lifted herself on her elbows, heedless of the splintered wood still sticking out of her chest.

“Finish you off? What? Why… why in the world would you think I’d do that?”

“Oh… nevermind. This is boring, I’m getting up.”

Psyche watched in numb and exhausted bewilderment as the Princess awkwardly staggered to her feet, brushed herself off, and began methodically pulling broken bits of wood out of herself with nothing more than an occasional wince. Once she finished, she asked, now moving her mouth normally again, 

“Well? Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Huh? No—but—what just happened?”

Psyche meant to point at the blood on the stone, but when she looked down she realized it had vanished. She held up her now clean hands in confusion, looking at them and then back at the Princess, only to see that the blood staining her dress was gone and the skin beneath the tears in her robe was now smooth and healed.

“Don’t worry about that, it was my mistake, let’s just forget about it. Now,” the Princess gestured at the doors, “disable your wards, unless you’d prefer I start breaking them again.”

Psyche opened and closed her mouth helplessly a few times.

Was this really happening?

She wasn’t hallucinating again, was she?

No, her hallucinations were always wiggly, and there was none of that going on here. Plus, there were still tears in Princess’ robe from the branches, and there was a broken ironwood sapling protruding from the balcony floor where the ward had triggered.

Picking it up, she felt its weight, looked at the bits of wood scattered about and thought, It can’t be a vision or an illusion—I could smell the blood, I even examined her with my mana…

Getting impatient, the Princess tapped her bare foot. “Hello? Don’t just sit there, let me in.”

Psyche definitely didn’t want to, but she wanted to go through what had just happened again even less, so against her better judgement she reached out and disabled them.

Wiping her face, she got up and followed the Princess inside, activating the lights as she asked, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to speak with you.”

“Now? Like this???” Psyche asked incredulously, still feeling dizzy and a little faint from the sudden change of events.

“The last time I delayed this sort of thing it became inconvenient,” the Princess replied, now wandering about her room looking like a disheveled ghost with her torn clothes and tangled white hair. “Aren’t you going to offer me tea?”

No, she wasn’t, but since that was an opportunity to get away from the Princess for a second, she took it. Grabbing her kettle, she turned without a word and went to go get water, all the while unable to stop her hands from shaking. 

Her country’s First Crown Princess didn’t seem to be human.

Did that mean the rest of her family weren’t human, or was it only this one?

If she wasn’t human, what was she? 

Was this what her uncle wanted to tell her about?

She closed her eyes and forced herself through a breathing exercise until some of her trembling calmed down. 

The important thing was that the Princess wasn’t dead, and that she was willing to let what happened with the wards go.

Although, to be honest, Psyche wasn’t. The calmer she got, the angrier she felt.

Returning to her room, she was just in time to see the Princess about to poke one of the dreamstalk mushrooms she’d been harvesting earlier.

“That’s poisonous,” Psyche said, slamming the kettle down on her tea table. “But if you don’t mind stomach cramps, a fever, and nightmares, then go ahead.”

Casually withdrawing her hand like she hadn’t been up to anything, the Princess took a seat at the tea table, then gestured at the room full of fungi and said, “My, what an… interesting hobby you have.”

Opening the kettle, Psyche ignored the fact that it wasn't a teapot and dumped a handful of tea leaves into the lukewarm water, not even bothering to put in a strainer.

Watching this with wide red eyes, the girl murmured, “Wow… You’re really bad at this.”

“Shut up.”

“You didn’t even heat the water.”

“I said shut up.”

“What makes you think you have the right to talk to me like this?”

Psyche, who’d just smacked a chipped teacup down in front of the Princess, paused, her mouth twisted into a shape halfway between a strained smile and a furious grimace.

Alright, since the Princess had no interest in playing fair, she wouldn’t either.

She pulled out her receiver and began to record, “Euphrosyne, the First Princess just broke into my—”

She stowed the receiver just as the Princess reached out to grab it, hissing, “Enough! What are you, a child?”

“I’m childish? You think I’m childish? Ah—ahaha…”

Like a good hostess she poured the girl what was essentially a cup of watery leaf slop, but the post-adrenaline weakness in her hands meant that she ended up sloshing most of it onto the table, much to the Princess’ disdain.

“You care a lot about what the Young Saint thinks of you, don’t you?” Psyche accused.

“That isn’t any of your business.”

“It is, because the Young Saint is my—” She nearly said ‘research assistant,’ but managed to correct it to, “Close friend now. If someone we both know is behaving badly, it would be wrong for me to stay quiet.”

The Princess ‘tsked’ and crossed her arms with a surly expression. “Fine, I get it.”

“Good, well, in that case.” Taking a seat across from her, Psyche spread her hands and asked, “Respectfully, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Oh, that.” 

The Princess became gloomy as she mumbled, “Euphrosyne wanted me to come see you and apologize.”

At midnight? By breaking in via my balcony?

Psyche doubted it. 

“So I decided to make you regret that.”

“… I’m sorry, excuse me?”

“How could she ask me to apologize to someone who started an argument between us? She’s supposed to be on my side, and you ruined that just by showing up… it’s so unfair.”

Psyche had never struck a patient before, but she found herself regretting that she hadn’t given this girl a good slap when she had the chance.

“If you’re not here to apologize, then—”

“I only agreed to come ‘see’ you on her behalf—our dear little Saint hasn’t learned to look out for loopholes yet,” the Princess said, punctuating this with a sparkling laugh. “She only ever seems to think in straight lines. It’s really quite charming.”

Ah. Okay.

So the Princess really was just here to torment her.

Goddess, I hate being right.

“But since I’m here anyway, why don’t we have a chat, just the two of us?” the Princess continued, clasping her hands together in excitement, “I’ve been dying to ask—you hate me, don’t you? Not just now… I noticed it the moment you looked at me for the first time, but I don’t recall ever meeting you before.”

“I never said I hated you, and I don’t appreciate people who put words in my mouth,” Psyche spat.

“Yes, well I don’t appreciate being lied to, especially when it comes to something I’m so good at recognizing… Wait, hold on. By any chance, does this have something to do with the Empress?”

Catching the chill in Psyche’s eyes, the Princess scoffed, “Oh, come on, really? While you’re at it, would you like to blame me for the Acidalian Rebellion too?”

“Of course not,” she said, but was unable to hide her increasingly stormy expression.

That incident was the event that led to her mother's trial. Even if she didn’t blame the Princess for it, being reminded of it didn’t make her any happier, especially when she was already extremely unhappy thanks to this girl’s presence to begin with.

“Oh, come on! Seriously, you do?”

“I just said I didn’t! Are you even listening to me?”

“Even if you say that, the truth is all over your face,” the Princess insisted. “Gods above, first the damn Provost, now you… I’m starting to think I ought to actually invade somebody. At least then I’d feel like all of this was justified.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that sort of thing!” Psyche snapped, appalled by the girl’s callousness.

“Yes, yes, alright,” the Princess said, and then she casually took a drink of the awful tea.

Psyche froze at the sight, assuming that the girl must have forgotten it wasn’t normal tea, that she’d spit it out any second.

Instead, the Princess paused, then slowly smiled.

“Goodness, you really do hate me.”

With that, she drank the rest of it.

“I kind of like it, though. Can I have the whole kettle?”

“… Um?”

“Well, you’re not going to drink it, right?”

“No, I mean… sure…?”

“Thanks,” the Princess replied, and then she proceeded to casually throw back, chew, and swallow the whole, wet tea leaves that remained in her cup.

Seeing this, Psyche had to turn her head and cover her mouth to hide an involuntary gag.

Great gods, what must that taste like? That temperature, the texture, the sogginess—

She gagged again, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to stop thinking about it.

“Don’t be squeamish,” the Princess chided, shamelessly pouring herself another cup of leaf slop. “Why make me an offering if you didn’t want me to eat it?”

“An offering…?”

Oh.

Understanding struck her like a brick to the face.

Their argument about spirits in the cohort, combined with the Princess’ mysterious revival, her vanishing blood, and now, referring to the tea as an offering—

“You’re a spirit?”

The Princess put down her tea cup to give a few deadpan claps.

“Congratulations, you've figured it out.”

“You’re possessing the First Crown Princess!?”

“… I take it back, you don’t know anything.”

“But—”

Putting up her hand, the Princess interrupted. “Before you ask—I’m not ‘possessing’ anyone, and yes, the Temple already knows about me. This is my body, and I am my father’s biological daughter—they do test imperial children for that sort of thing, you know.”

Psyche frowned and sank back in her chair, thoroughly confused.

“… But that’s impossible.”

Spreading her arms in a shrug, the spirit replied, “And yet, here I am.”

“So you say, but how???”

While very powerful spirits could make corporeal bodies, since spirits could do away with the inefficiencies of evolution, they tended to be a little different from the organically grown bodies they mimicked. 

Earlier, when she examined the Princess, she hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary, but now she wished she’d looked more closely. In fact, she had to bite down on her lip to hold back a mad urge to ask if she could take another look. 

If what the Princess was saying was true, then she was a completely unprecedented type of spirit, and as someone who studied spirits, Psyche couldn’t help but feel extremely curious.

If what she was saying was false, then either she was lying for some reason, or…

Was it possible for a spirit to possess someone, but be unaware that they’d done so?

“Sorry, no idea… ohh, but would you look at that?” the Princess said with a teasing lilt, leaning forward to rest her chin on her fists. “You’re interested now, aren’t you? Let me guess—I’m the only greater spirit you currently have contact with?”

… Fuck.

No wonder Euphrosyne had been so eager to get the Princess involved.

While it was true that Psyche had met a lot of spirits through her work, they were all minor or major spirits. The most advanced among them had a basic ability to communicate, but asking them to describe complex or abstract concepts was impossible.

Of the two greater spirits Psyche’s family had any connection with, one had been dead for millennia, and the other couldn’t be reached out to unless the Duchess wanted to risk another trial.

“… Yes, you are.”

The Princess’ already smug expression suddenly grew infinitely more slappable, and Psyche just about turned green trying to keep her hands to herself. 

“If you’re genuinely worried about the safety of other spirits, I’m willing to let you consult on my project’s acceptable risk parameters.”

“Oh, that… no, I don’t really care about other spirits. You were right when you said I was just being contrary, I only said those things to mess with you.”

I fucking knew it!

“Then what do you want?”

“Now you’re asking the right question!” the Princess replied, clapping her hands together with a cheerful smile. “Luckily for you, what I want is very simple: for you to keep your distance from Euphrosyne.”

“… What?”

“I’m not asking you to avoid her altogether, I’m just saying keep it professional, don't get any closer than you have to. From where I’m sitting, it didn’t seem like you were that interested in any of this Calamity business in the first place, am I right? You only care about your project.”

Well, yes, and it was true that having a greater spirit’s help on said project would be a huge boon, but…

She just couldn’t believe the Princess was being serious. The questionable morality of the request aside, the fact that another grown woman could look her in the eye and ask her to do such a thing with a straight face was baffling.

Especially considering the cutthroat environment the Princess must have been raised in, even if Psyche was willing to buy that this girl was obsessed over someone she’d only known for a week (which she was, actually, this bitch was clearly nuts), she didn’t believe this kind of clunky ploy was how she’d handle things.

“…Are you testing me? Trying to gauge my loyalty to the Young Saint or something?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because I refuse to believe you don’t understand how inappropriate and… and asinine your request is. Either you’re just messing with me, or…”

… You’re trying to get me to underestimate you.

But why would she want that?

The Princess knew that Psyche didn’t like her, so instead of trying to win her over with the ‘innocent and wronged’ routine she used on Euphrosyne, she’d decided to present herself as ‘hostile but inept’, like seamlessly changing from one mask to another.

Regardless of which one she wore, the benefit was the same: the Princess got to pretend that she didn’t know any better.

Since she couldn’t understand, she couldn’t be properly held responsible for her actions.

The Princess stared at her for a moment, her head slightly tilted to the side, and then finally spread her hands and sighed.

“Tsk… you’re no fun. Trying to see what kind of person you are, and wanting you to distance yourself from Euphrosyne; why can’t I want both?”

“Quit pretending, I’m not falling for any more of your bullshit—“ 

She cut herself off, as it occurred to her that there was something else she’d overlooked.

How could a spirit of her caliber have such a severe accident with her wards?

She knew enough to disable them so quickly, but not enough to realize they were lethal?

She was smart enough to keep a secret from the whole country, but not enough to bother with basic defenses?

The more she thought about it, the more Psyche felt that, even though they’d only met twice, the Princess was always the one setting the pace, and every time Psyche was about to get her bearings, she’d do something to knock her back off balance.

If she thought about it objectively, she had very little evidence, but right now every ounce of intuition she had was pointing at one conclusion:

It was deliberate.

All of it.

The horror of that realization made her veins run cold, and she found herself leaning away, unconsciously distancing herself.

Psyche had met plenty of manipulative people before, but she’d never encountered anyone so detached, so insidious, that they’d be willing to methodically fake every single action just to stay in control. The fact that she’d been willing to harm herself to do it made it all the more terrifying, because if she was willing to do that to herself, what would she be willing to do to someone else?

However, that fear was tempered by the rage she felt at being on the receiving end of such a cruel and heartless farce.

“Earlier, you triggered that ward on purpose, didn’t you? You hurt yourself like… like that, just to scare me.”

“How could you accuse me of something like that?” the Princess asked in a wounded tone, lowering her eyes and looking away. “Really… it’s starting to sound like you’re not interested in working with me at all.”

“Shut up!” Psyche snapped, surging to her feet and slamming her fist down on the table. “Cut the act, I’m not fucking falling for it! Do you have any idea what your little prank did to me? Do you think I’m just going to keep quiet, do you think I won’t expose you?”

Viciously pointing at her, her voice shaking with horrified emotion, Psyche said, “You’re fucking sick, do you know that? Someone like you shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near normal fucking people!”

Perhaps Psyche’s fury had finally convinced her to drop the act, because slowly the Princess’ aggrieved expression faded to utter blankness, and her eyes emptied of their spark, leaving her sitting there looking like a doll, lifeless without a hand to move it.

“It’s not a good thing to be too smart, you know.”

Then the Princess smiled sweetly once more, but only her mouth moved, as though the strings that controlled every other muscle in her face had been cut. 

“Although… I’ll admit, it’s a good opportunity for me. After all, you are from a powerful family, even if none of you ever do anything with that strength…”

Psyche took a step back, goosebumps prickling up her arms at the eerie scene before her.

The Princess really wasn't human, was she? But she also wasn’t really like a spirit, either. Spirits could be odd, but they were always full of life, whereas the hollow, red-eyed thing looking back at her gave her the impression of something distant, something desolate, something…

Alien.

“Alright. Since you don’t want to play anymore, I’ll tell you why I’m really here—and I’ll be honest this time, I promise,” the Princess said, gracefully rising to her feet.

She took a step towards Psyche, and Psyche unconsciously took another step back.

Seeing this, the Princess seemed to suddenly come back to life, once more looking like a normal, animated girl as her eyes curved with glittering amusement.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“… I’m not afraid of you. I’m disgusted. Everything about you is fucking vile.”

The girl threw back her head and laughed, flashing a mouthful of teeth that seemed sharper now than they’d appeared a moment ago, and it was then that Psyche noticed her tangled hair was tangled no more.

Now it was drifting in the air behind her, curling and undulating as though cast about by invisible waves, like pale seaweed underwater.

“That’s such a shame, because I think I really like you? Ah, but don’t worry, I’m still going to tell you anyway. I’m doing all this at the Empress’ behest.”

Psyche’s stomach plummeted like she’d missed a step off a pier, a chill suffusing her entire body.

Good gods, was this true, or was she lying again just to fuck with her?

“What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean that somehow you and your mother made Ladike desperate enough to ask me for help. Tell me, how did you do it? I always thought she hated me the most, so it’s making me kind of jealous…”

Clasping her hands behind her back, she advanced again, her skin now luminous with the same blueish light Psyche had seen when she revived. A second glow bloomed within her red eyes, spreading until it suffused even her scleras, leaving only two points of brilliant white shining from her pupils.

Even as Psyche backed away, fists clenched in trepidation, the tiny researcher in her mind wondered if this meant this spirit was thinking of revealing her true form, because a part of her really wanted to see what she looked like.

That was the worst part, really. As angry as she was, as frightened as she was, she couldn’t help but be curious, especially since…

Those aren’t normal ears, are they? She wasn’t always a human then, so what did she used to be?

“Look, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why she hates us, but you can’t actually be thinking of working with her, can you?”

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe, if I don’t get what I want?”

“Oh my gods—then for the love of the Nine Divine Pillars of fucking Heaven, what the hell is it that you want? Just—fucking—tell me!”

The Princess stopped in front of her, so bright she was hard to look at, and leaned close to whisper.

“Unfortunately, I can’t.”

“Augh!” Psyche cried out in frustration, fear forgotten as she threw up her hands in frustration and walked away, only to pace right back. “Why? Why the fuck not? Is this just some new way to torment me!?”

Pursing her lips in an apologetic moue, the Princess raised her glowing hands defensively and laughingly explained, “I’m sorry, but I really, really can’t—and I can’t give you any hints or feedback, either, so don’t ask. The loophole I’m trying to work with is very thin, and honestly, if you hadn’t convinced me you were smart enough to figure things out on your own, I wouldn’t have thought to try.”

Psyche wanted to scream or, better yet, pick this creepy bitch up and throw her off the damn balcony, which in retrospect was what she should have done the moment she showed up and started causing trouble!

Instead, she scoffed in furious disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You can’t say what you want, I can’t tell you what I come up with, but if you're not satisfied I’m in trouble? Is that a riddle? Are you threatening me with a fucking riddle?”

“No, of course not. This isn’t a deal, I just came here to chat, anything else is your own prerogative… ah, which reminds me—that ward thing? That was Empress Ladike’s idea. She’s got a lot of them.”

The light she was emitting vanished abruptly, leaving Psyche blinking against the spots in her vision. As though taking advantage of that fact, the now normal-looking girl retreated to the balcony, pushing herself up to sit on the railing and giving Psyche a little wave as she cheerfully announced, “Anyway, the good news is, I’ve decided to help you with your project! Aren’t you lucky? I’ll even help you hide what you’re doing from the Imperial Consort—ahh, which reminds me, you probably don’t know you need to watch out for him too, do you? My, Young Duchess, look at you… pissing off both of my mothers at once? If I didn’t have Euphy, I think you’d be my new favorite human.”

“Wait, hang on, where are you going?” Psyche said, still blinking as she followed after her. “I’m not done talking to you!”

“Oh, and thank you for the tea. I’ll expect more offerings in the future, so try a little harder next time.”

“Seriously, don’t you fucking dare—!”

A huge gust of frigid wind whipped through the room, forcing Psyche to take a few steps back, close her eyes, and cover her face. She looked up the moment it passed, her eyes tearing against the intense chill, only to find that the Princess had vanished, and her room was now a mess.

Running out onto the balcony, she searched frantically in every direction but couldn’t see anything except darkness, the forest, and the ground, eight floors below.

“Damn it… damn it!”

She slapped the railing and hissed to herself, "What was that, Uncle? It’ll be fine, huh? Because she’s got no reason to target me, huh? Fuck!” 

Screw this.

She was messaging her mother.