A corpse was sitting rather comfortably in Eadric's thinking chair. Alyce ate her lunch at its feet, glancing every now and again when she thought she could feel its eyes on her. She was about halfway through her eggs when her paranoia yielded a focused gaze and a shrewd, lipless smile.
She scowled up at it, on edge. "Have fun?"
The smile bared teeth. "Quite."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Curious?"
"So what if I am?"
"He's not your brother, you know." Eadric rolled his head side to side, spiderlike fingers traversing mahogany armrests. Sounding refreshed, he asked, "What time is it?"
Alyce stabbed at her eggs. "Did he agree to join us?"
Eadric studied his hands, eyes low. "He'll come around one way or another, I suppose. That's what all the backup plans are for." After thinking it over, he slapped his knees and rose from the chair. "Next order of business, then. Come, Alyce."
"I'm in the middle of eating breakfast."
"I can see that. I'll beat you if there's egg on my boots."
He didn't mean it, but Alyce stood up regardless, conditioned. "You were gone a long time," she grumbled. "Did you tell him who you were?"
"Goodness, no," he said, at the door. "I'd still be talking to him if I had."
Alyce wolfed down the last of her eggs before taking off at his heels down the corridor. She caught his hand to slow him and warned, "You'd better not be bullying him out there."
In bland surprise: "What makes you think I'm bullying him?"
"It's what you do. He'll end up hating you like everybody else if you're not careful." She listened to him snigger at her, feeling small and distant and useless. "Are you going to bring him in?"
"I gave him six days." Eadric steered her up a restricted stairwell. Sunlight was coming in from someplace far above them, throwing out bright bands of gold throughout. "Write this down, Alyce," he instructed. "When establishing a business relationship, your first priority should be to determine the outside party's code of ethics."
She watched him from below. "So I can know if they're bad?"
"It's the greatest story ever told," he replied. "The oldest, in fact. Right versus wrong. Light versus dark. Good versus evil. Spots versus stripes. It's rare to find someone in the gray area." He glanced at her and scowled. "Why aren't you scribbling?"
"You're always telling me to write stuff down. Get to the point."
Eadric gave her a look. "Ethos doesn't just dabble in the gray area," he said. "He lives in it. He'll be an ideal ally someday."
"Then why are you alienating him?"
"For Karna. Obviously. Everything I do is for Karna."
They continued their ascent in resonant silence. "Are you unhappy, Eadric?"
Another glance. Bland surprise, as usual. But the shift of his eyes was a glimpse of true Eadric, the Eadric who hid behind the mask. She'd never thought he was ugly, exactly, not even in the beginning, but she knew by now that his face, his hands— the tangible parts of him were someone else. Someone dead. His gaze was the only thing that he'd kept. Over the years she'd seen all its facets, and this was a bright one, kicking off glass. She'd never been able to decipher it.
King Gladius was suddenly at the top of the stairs, shoulders spanning the gap. Eadric noticed and turned to face him, glimpse dissolving, light winking out. "Gladius," he greeted, one foot higher on the steps than the other. He shook off Alyce's hand. "I was just coming to see you."
The king was a handsome man for his age, hirsute as a bear and nearly as built. Alyce had heard it said that he was the first ruler in centuries to truly live up to the legend of Redbeard, and it was hard to disagree with him standing there haloed by the ridiculous mane of his hair. She could only imagine that he held himself to the same lofty standard associated with his renowned forefather.
His voice, like the rest of him, was uncompromising. There was a subtle inflection to it, suggesting he'd spent some time in the north. "Ellena wants to know if you'll be attending the service tonight," he said, quietly. "Seating arrangements. The turnout's going to fill the hall."
"We'll be there," Eadric replied, aptly concerned. "Olba was a tough old soul."
Alyce didn't want to go. She couldn't feign sincerity like Eadric could. Even his position on the stairs was something of a mockery; he was on the low ground, hidden in shadow, but it was there that he smiled and thrived and survived. Because regardless of the situation, regardless of how it looked at a glance, he always had the upper hand. Without fail. The irony of it must have been particularly vexing to someone like Gladius, whose station and being were second to none.
Eadric probably thought it was funny. He thought everything was funny. He'd laugh his way to the next world and back. Alyce both loved and loathed that about him.
They were talking again, the men. Something about a report. The adult in her knew that she ought to listen, and that being unseen was her only edge, but the child in her was so frightfully bored that she wanted nothing more than to sit right there in the stairwell and sigh.
"You've been spacing out a lot lately." Eadric was staring at her from the step above. "Alyce," he said, as if repeating himself. "Focus, please."
Alyce's hands fisted. "Sorry."
"Gladius wants to have a word with you."
Eadric was most terrifying when he was expressionless. Alyce had learned firsthand how it felt to plead with someone indifferent to tears. Gladius couldn't see it from where he was standing, but Alyce had the full effect. "Okay," she said. "You're not coming?"
"I'll be waiting downstairs." In passing, Eadric leaned in to impart a private word. He smelled like dust and darkness. "Nothing is irreplaceable," he said. "Don't do anything stupid."
A devil in her ear, Alyce's gaze slowly slid to Gladius, who was watching on from the top of the stairs. Point made, Eadric brushed by, and the king seemed to share her instinct to wait out the echo of his footsteps. They stood there, wordless, a leap apart, until no sound carried without their notice. Even the bailey's birdsong reached.
"Don't be afraid," Gladius said. "Follow me."
So she did. Alyce rarely visited the restricted level of the Keep. It was unexpectedly plain, though she supposed it matched the humble disposition of its current inhabitant. Gladius held the door open for her when they reached their destination. Alyce didn't even have to duck under his arm. She reflexively stepped aside once within, back to the wall, before he could enter behind her.
It was a den of sorts, lined by bookshelves. Bathed by the warmth of an impressive fireplace, its few furnishings consisted of a walnut desk and a massive set of mismatched armchairs. Gladius seated himself in the farthermost one and gestured for her to take the other.
"Come join me," he said. "It's alright."
Alyce obeyed, unenthused. It took an embarrassing moment to climb up onto the cushion. Once she'd effectively made a mockery of herself, she slumped back, feet dangling, and glared outright at his open amusement. "That's right, I'm small," she spat. "Laugh."
Unlike Eadric, his smile was kind. "Is it true what they say about you?"
"They say a lot about me. Mostly nasty stuff on account of the company I keep."
"He does have a rather notorious reputation." Gladius absently reached for the fire; it responded in kind, sending a whorl of flickering heat to his meaty, yet graceful fingers. "I've heard that you know things," he said. "Things that you shouldn't. I've heard you're twice as old as you look."
"I've heard that, too. Do you want to know what I've heard about you?"
Gladius deigned no reply. He snuffed out the light. "My daughter is gone," he said. "The seers are useless. Olba's dead. Eadric keeps to his secrets." He looked over at her. "It's hard enough to keep the wolves from the door. The last thing I need is a missing heir."
"Sounds like you ought to consult the gods."
"Gods don't get their feet wet."
Alyce reminded herself to be wary. She wouldn't survive another falling out with Eadric. "Eadric loves this island," she said, evenly. "If he knew where Una was, he'd tell you."
"Unless it's in his best interest not to. Am I right?" Gladius stared hard at her. He was trying to be persuasive, creasing the crow's feet around his small eyes. "Am I right, Alyce?" he asked, voice deep and friendly and devious. "Be honest. He can't hear you."
Alyce crinkled her nose at him. "You know that's not true."
After a heavy moment of gauging, Gladius sat forward in his chair. "An odd little mouse, aren't you," he chuckled. "What was your childhood like?"
"My mother raised me in Wayward."
"That's quite far," he mused. "How did you end up here?"
Alyce didn't remember it as well as she once did. "Eadric bought me."
"A hateful thing, selling one's child."
"She said I was cursed."
"And your father? What did he think?"
Alyce shrugged. Her belly hurt. Bad eggs. "Who knows," she replied. "He was a degenerate, most like. Eadric teases me about it; says I was sired by a lesser god of decadence, come crawling from the pits to bump one off with my whore mother. Says it's where I get my propriety."
Gladius seemed to disapprove. "Is he good to you?"
"Who, Eadric? Eadric isn't good to anyone."
"No, I suppose not." He aligned his meaty fingers in thought. The fire bathed him in gold. "He's up to something again," he knew. "These past few weeks have all but convinced me of it. He behaved the same way after oldwood."
Oldwood, borough unto itself, governed by some sort of land god. Harken, Eadric called it. Alyce knew it well, how it murmured and slept. She'd heard its voice when it burned to the ground as clearly as the day it revived, when Ethos had stirred in its scarred remains. She'd felt their confusion and sorrow and fear. She'd cried for both of them.
But she didn't say so. Instead, she said, "Eadric loves this island."
"Yes, you mentioned that." Gladius casually reached for her hand. The heat of his palm coated her knuckles. "I'm here to protect you," he promised. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
Ah, the kicker. Una had inherited her gifts from him. She realized it a moment too late; for in the next, she didn't care. Everything became about pleasing Gladius. She was needed by him. She was loved by him. She was treasured by him. If she gave him what he wanted, she'd flourish.
"Alyce." His voice meant everything. "I know Eadric's responsible for Olba's death."
Alyce couldn't form a response. Her heart was jailed, afraid of failure.
Gladius squeezed her hand. "Where is my daughter, Alyce?"
"Safe," she said. "She's on her way home."
"How do you know she's safe?"
"She was reporting in to Eadric until a few days ago."
His grip on her tightened, like she'd surprised him. "Tell me why."
Alyce concentrated. Her belly hurt. Bad eggs. Bad eggs. "To keep tabs on Ethos," she said. "They think they can use him, but they can't. They'll get burned in the end, same as Olba."
Gladius took some time to search her face. For what? She didn't care. Let him search. Something in his eyes was alive. "Ethos," he echoed. "I know that name."
"You met him fourteen years ago."
"What does he want?"
Her gaze fell as she sought him out: the sad little light due south of the city. "His mother, maybe," she said. "Some peace and quiet. Happiness. Simple things, mostly. Impossible things."
"Where did he come from?"
Alyce opened her mouth to answer, but it was the sad little light who spoke, not she. He'd felt her looking. He'd looked right back. Through her, he glared at the king, imposed. "The sky, they say," he answered, annoyed. "But you already knew that."
The air became thick. Gladius drew back. His brow deepened.
Alyce was on her feet and sprinting out the door next she knew. Humiliation spread like a disease, constricting her throat. Gladius didn't shout after her; he didn't have to, didn't care to. He was as bad as everyone else. There was no such thing as compassion.
A knot of gossiping serving girls gasped and split apart as she tripped and planted her face in the rug. One whispered her name to another. When none of them made any effort to help, Alyce scrambled away, vision blurred, and descended the nearest stairwell.
Norita Spellman inadvertently waylaid her at the landing below. They'd crossed paths plenty of times over the years, but never in such private confines. She was a dignified sort of woman; willowy, tall, dusted by freckles, graced with poise. Alyce thought she resembled a viper.
Her hair was damp and twisted over her shoulder. "Move."
Alyce bristled. "Badgerfaced crone."
Norita folded her arms— no easy feat considering the size of her chest. "You've been crying," she noticed, a discernible edge of disgust in her voice. "All these years and you're still the same weepy brat that Eadric dragged out of the gutter. How pathetic." She watched Alyce rub at her eyes. Eventually, put off, she said, "Tell me what happened."
Alyce pushed by. "Nothing," she said. "I'm fine."
Norita's expression took a dark turn. She suddenly seized her, fingernails flashing like ten deadly beetles. Their pointed tips bit into the flesh of Alyce's arm. "You smell like his fire," she said, sniffing at air. "How much did you tell him?"
Gladius. "He's worried about Una, is all."
"Eadric will kill you if you've betrayed him."
"Like you care," Alyce scoffed. "You just want to dissect me."
Norita jerked her close. "Don't forget who you're dealing with, Alyce."
Alyce tore free and glared. As she had with Gladius, she reminded herself to be wary. There was a reason Norita had clearance to the restricted level, and as fearsome as she was on the surface, the depths to her were even worse. So Alyce said, "Thanks for the counsel, councilman," and then slipped out into the corridor before the viper could gobble her up.
Eadric's quarters were hidden well on the first floor of the labyrinthine Keep. She stood in the open doorway for an absurd stretch of time, staring into the unremarkable chamber, mood soured, until she spotted him lying supine on his divan, which, much like everything else he owned, was in a state of disrepair. One of its legs was missing entirely and replaced by a pile of reference books.
His collection of shells had been dumped on his desk. Many were glowing, ripe with voices, but Alyce only cared for the unadorned one. She retrieved it as she passed, nursing its heavy warmth.
Eadric's eyes were closed, but Alyce knew better than to think he was sleeping. Human routine wanted nothing to do with him. Without looking, he said, "Sometimes I wonder if I'm dreaming."
She felt so empty. "You can't dream if you can't sleep."
"I miss it, I think. Drifting off."
It was a consequence of possession, she knew. The inability to rest. "I don't see why you do this to yourself," Alyce muttered. "How long has it been since you were in your own body?"
Eadric smiled, inconceivably. "Four hundred and fifty years, give or take." The number was too great to process. He glanced up when she didn't respond. "Humor me," he said. "Remind me what it's like to fall asleep."
"Can I lie down with you?"
"Only if you promise to stop crying."
She flushed and wiped at her face. "I didn't— "
"You didn't realize. I know. That's why I'm letting it slide."
Alyce hugged the shell and curled up alongside him. "Why didn't you tell me about Gladius?" she wondered, cheek pressed against his chest. "I might've been able to defend myself if I'd known to keep my distance from him."
Eadric sighed. He cushioned his head with an arm. "It's fine," he said. "I knew he'd eventually ask about Una. I was prepared for this."
"But I wasn't. I didn't even stand a chance."
"Better you didn't." He must have felt her looking at him. He heaved a sigh. "Like I said, I knew he'd ask. I also knew that his doing so would inevitably lead to the subject of Ethos, and that, with your limited knowledge of the matter, Una's involvement, and my dirty hand in it, he'd come to the tentative conclusion that I'm plotting to have him replaced. Which I am." Eadric repositioned, wincing. "Gladius and I never really hit it off, you see," he grumbled. "All of this prying into my personal life is becoming something of an issue."
"You're going to make Ethos king?"
"Certainly not. Ethos can never be king. I'll probably end up getting him killed." Eadric paused at that. Alyce could hear air rattling through his dusty lungs. "But that's the beauty of it," he said. "Gladius is none the wiser. He'll be too busy jumping at woodlings to realize what I'm actually up to."
Alyce traced the curves of Eadric's unadorned shell. She thought of Ethos, of how he'd helped her throw off Gladius. "He caught me, you know," she said. "Ethos caught me peeping on him."
Eadric tucked his chin to see her. "Fascinating. What did he do?"
She smiled. "He protected me."
He sank back after a moment, and they spent some time in the silence before he spoke. His words couldn't have traveled much farther than her ears. "Are you ever going to ask the purpose of all this?"
"Stupid undead snot bucket. If you want to tell me, tell me."
The silence persisted, but not for long. "We thought we'd found paradise," he murmured. "Hans said it himself as we beached in the sandy south. Paradise. New beginnings. A place to rebuild." He chuckled a bit. "Hope, so called. The irony. There was too much we didn't understand, too much we took for granted, and it cost us nearly half of the fleet. But the war never ended. Not really."
"You change the story every time you tell it."
"But never the conclusion," he defended. "Or lack thereof."
He sounded sad, she thought. "Do you think this is your chance to change it?"
"Unfinished business. So cliché. It wounds me."
"I don't want you to kill Ethos."
Eadric delicately extracted the shell from her. "I know," he said. "But that's life. Nothing's gained without sacrifice." He smiled crookedly. "Write that down."
Alyce glared a little. "I really don't want you to kill him, Eadric."
"I won't, if I can help it. But things happen." He sat up slightly, one shoulder high on the back of the divan as he felt around for the wooden frame. Once risen, he gave her a pointed look. "We have to play this by ear, Alyce," he said. "Tell me you understand that."
Alyce rolled away from him. "I miss Calaster."
"Cal will be back after Founders Day."
"We should visit him."
Eadric didn't reply, so she glanced and found his ear to the shell. He let out a bark of laughter, sank back into the cushions, and leered, "That was fast."
"What did he say?"
His eyes jumped to her. His smile widened. "He knows my name," he bragged. "He also called me a monster. How hurtful."
She scowled. "You said it first."
"I shouldn't have given him six whole days. I despise waiting."
Alyce rolled away again, feeling unbearably childish. "I wish I knew what to make of you," she mumbled, scowling at the door. "Maybe you're the same as him, stuck somewhere in the gray area." She subsided. The fear that she'd be left behind— it stirred in her gut, quickened her pulse. "Is that why you like him more than me?" she wondered. "Is it because he has more in common with you?"
Silence again. Longer this time. She ventured another glance.
A corpse was resting rather comfortably beside her. Alyce watched a fly land down and drink from its idle, abandoned eyes. "The proverb must've started with you," she sighed. "You know the one. No rest for the wicked. Some long dead friend of yours must've said it."
No rattle of air through dusty lungs. No smart remark. No dry retort.
Disillusioned, Alyce rested her head on its shoulder. The fly took off in a hurry. "The gods were kind when they gave us sleep," she murmured. "We were dragging our feet, so the Old One said, 'Let's let them rest. All in favor, say aye.' And the gods said aye. No one picks a fight with the Old One. So our bodies grew heavy, our worries eased, and our thoughts sailed around and turned into dreams. The gods were kind because they gave us a gift, a reward for seeing our days to sundown. Because it's hard, you know? Living's hard. But you don't need me to tell you that. You're hated by everyone that you meet. I think you do it intentionally."
No smart remark. No dry retort.
"With friends like these…"