Chương 17: A Cage Made of Silk

We gathered inside my office. Calling it crowded would've been generous. The room was large enough to hold a dozen people comfortably, but tension had a way of occupying more space than anybody. It pressed against the walls, settled over the carpet, and made the air feel heavier than it had any right to be. My office sat on the second floor behind the private gaming rooms. Dark wooden walls surrounded violet curtains, shelves lined with ledgers and contracts, and a fireplace carved from black stone.

Behind the desk waited another custom chair Celeste had commissioned for me because, apparently, one throne-like chair overlooking the casino floor hadn't been enough? This one was somehow even more dramatic, with a high back, black carved wood, violet cushioning, and silver claws fitted along the armrests. Celeste insisted it was tasteful. She also considered decorating relaxing, which I encouraged because it usually granted me at least one blessed hour without her hovering nearby.

She always returned with renewed enthusiasm. I settled behind the desk while everyone else arranged themselves according to instinct. Celeste stood at my side. Princess Vera and Malcolm occupied the two chairs facing my desk. Adrian took his usual position at the door, becoming a quiet barrier of muscle, fangs, and sharpened patience.

Vera's royal guards had attempted to follow us into the office, but a single bored refusal from him left them standing in the corridor, visibly offended and entirely unwilling to test whether he meant it. House Vaust had earned enough of a reputation that even royal guards knew better than to force their way into my private rooms. They remained in the corridor, muttering beneath their breath and glaring at the closed door, but none of them seemed eager to challenge Adrian's decision.

For a long moment, silence settled over the office. Then my attention shifted to Malcolm. Proper lighting did him no favors. His red hair remained wild, as though a flame had been startled and then abandoned all interest in grooming. Bruises in the shape of my fingers were already darkening across his throat. His clothing was common but clean, although it had become wrinkled during his journey through terror. He sat stiffly with both hands clenched upon his knees, trying very hard not to appear afraid.

He failed, although not entirely. I felt mildly interested. Vera trembled beside him despite her best efforts to remain composed. Without her veil, there was nothing to hide the polished beauty royalty had trained into her from childhood: soft features, careful posture, and eyes taught never to reveal more than necessary. They revealed everything now. Fear, defiance, and worry moved across her expression, although worry overshadowed the rest.

Every few moments, her gaze returned to the bruises darkening Malcolm's throat. Then I noticed the slight bow of her head. It wasn't the practiced gesture of court etiquette but was more instinctive. That was curious. Did she understand what sat across from her? Perhaps some small animal part of her soul recognized that crowns held very little authority within a room containing me. Whatever the reason, it pleased me that she understood her place.

"So," I began at last, allowing the word to stretch lazily across the desk.

"Just Malcolm." His jaw tightened.

"It's only Malcolm."

"Whatever." Celeste made a small sound beside me. I ignored her. Malcolm swallowed, and the movement clearly hurt him. Pain possessed a wonderful talent for improving a person's attention.

"Understand your position clearly," I warned.

"Should you continue denying what I witnessed with my own eyes; the immediate future will become considerably less pleasant for you." Vera's hands tightened in her lap. Malcolm met my gaze directly. Whether that made him brave or stupid remained undecided. Death often settled the distinction.

"I didn't mean to insult your house."

"That was not a denial." His mouth closed. Vera turned toward him sharply.

"Malcolm?" He refused to look at her. I raised my right hand with the palm facing upward. Violet light bloomed above my skin. It began as a bright, spinning point of ruin no larger than a coin. Then it widened, twisting into a tiny vortex, a storm without wind and with far too much hunger. Its fraying edges curled inward, devouring the air around it with soft, crackling whispers. The violet sphere continued swelling until its glow darkened the room around it. Malcolm's face paled, and Vera stopped breathing.

Even the flames inside the fireplace bent away from my palm. My magic wasn't gentle. It offered no warmth, healing, light, or blessing. It existed only to ruin, unraveling shape and structure until matter forgot how to remain whole. Those bound to me by blood could endure its presence better than most, although even they possessed enough sense to respect it. Mortals experienced something far worse. The pressure closed around Malcolm and Vera like invisible teeth.

Vera shuddered and pressed one hand against her chest, while Malcolm forced himself to remain upright despite the sweat gathering across his brow.

"This will erase you in less than half a second if I allow it to touch you," I explained calmly.

"It will not burn, cut, or merely kill you. It will unmake you completely, leaving nothing behind for your beloved princess to mourn."

"Mother," Celeste warned. My gaze remained fixed upon Malcolm.

"I saw your hands. They were quick, clever, and almost impressive. In another life, you might have become a fine stage magician or a wealthy thief. My senses are not human, just Malcolm. Your speed will not fool me." This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The vortex expanded again, papers across my desk trembled, and a thin crack formed along the glass inkwell.

"Mother," Celeste repeated her voice sharper this time.

"That's enough. You're going to kill the princess by accident." Vera's face had turned white. Malcolm's fear finally broke through his composure.

"Stop," he pleaded.

"Please. Not her." There it was again. Rather than beg for his life, claim innocence, or ask for mercy, Malcolm pleaded only for Vera. That was irritatingly similar to two other individuals in my life. I closed my hand, and the violet ruin vanished. The pressure disappeared so suddenly that Vera gasped. Malcolm bent forward, breathing heavily as one hand gripped the armrest of his chair. Celeste exhaled through her nose and gave me a look suggesting that a conversation awaited me later.

I intended to ignore that conversation as well. Leaning back into my chair, I studied Malcolm in silence. He stared at the floor. The quiet returned, although it felt thinner now, shaken and bruised by what had occupied the room moments before. Malcolm slid from the chair and dropped to his knees. Vera released a small, frightened sound.

"Malcolm." He bowed his head until his red hair hid his face.

"I cheated." The confession landed heavily. Vera froze… Malcolm's voice roughened.

"I'm sorry. I swear upon my life that I didn't mean to insult you or your house. I was trying to win enough money to change things."

"How poetic and wonderfully vague." He lifted his head. His eyes were wet, although whether that came from fear, shame, or the damage to his throat mattered very little to me.

"I'm a commoner," Malcolm admitted.

"I have no family name worth remembering, no land, no title, and no fortune. By the standards of the court, I have nothing that would ever make me worthy of her." Vera's lips parted, but no words came. Only then did Malcolm look at her, and the expression on his face was revoltingly tender, desperate, and devoted.

"I love Vera with everything I have," he confessed.

"I know that means nothing to the people who decide whom she is allowed to marry. A man like me isn't supposed to look at a princess, much less dream of standing beside one. I thought that if I won enough money, bought land, secured some minor title, and became more than merely Malcolm, then perhaps they might see me as someone worthy of her." A broken laugh escaped him.

"It was stupid... I know."

"Yes, it was." I agreed without hesitation. Malcolm lowered his head once more.

"I was desperate, but that's no excuse. I cheated inside your establishment, and I deserve whatever punishment you decide. Please, Lady Vaust, don't blame Vera. She knew nothing about it. If she had, she would've stopped me." Vera abruptly rose from her chair, and then dropped to her knees in front of Malcolm. Her silk skirts pooled across the carpet as she wrapped both arms around him and placed herself between us, as though her slender body could shield him from whatever punishment I chose to deliver.

The gesture was foolish, touching, and undeniably brave.

"If you kill him," Vera declared, her voice trembling, "then you must kill me as well." Malcolm's head snapped upward.

"Vera, no."

"Yes." Tears now ran freely down her cheeks.

"I will not return without you."

"You have to."

"I do not."

"You're a princess."

"I'm tired of being a princess." That was the first truly interesting thing she had said. I rested my chin against one hand.

"Be careful, Your Highness. Crowns are expensive things to throw away." Vera looked up at me. Terror remained plainly visible in her face, as it should have, but something burned beneath it.

"I've never owned my crown," she answered.

"It has always owned me." Something inside the room shifted, although nothing visible had changed. The walls remained still, the fire burned steadily, and Adrian didn't move from the doorway, yet Vera's words struck something painfully familiar within me. Celeste noticed, naturally, and leaned close enough for her voice to reach me as little more than a breath.

"Well, Mother, it appears the princess understands something about cages." I didn't look toward her. Vera tightened her hold around Malcolm.

"My father has arranged my marriage. I'm to be sent away before winter. The man is old enough to have courted my mother, cruel enough that even my brother avoids him, and powerful enough that refusing him would embarrass the crown." Her voice cracked.

"My father calls it duty." How nostalgic. My fingers curled against the armrest. A father was selling his daughter and disguising the transaction beneath prettier words. Duty replaced debt, alliance replaced gold, and a wedding replaced the purchase. The ribbon was different, but the chain remains the same.

"I thought that if I could become someone worthy before then, perhaps…" Malcolm's voice faded.

"You believed money would convince them to see you as human." He looked toward me. I smiled without warmth.

"That was your first mistake." Vera bowed her head.

"Please punish me instead. I'm the reason he did this."

"No," Malcolm objected immediately.

"You're not."

"I am."

"You didn't ask me to cheat."

"I made you believe you needed to become someone else before you could stand beside me." His face softened despite everything.

"You didn't do that. The world did." The display was vile. They knelt upon my carpet, guilty, weeping, and disgustingly in love. I should've felt nothing beyond irritation, and irritation was certainly present in abundance. Beneath it, however, lurked something far less convenient. Recognition… The resemblance to my past was impossible to ignore. Vera was not me, and her cage had been built from silk rather than dirt, but a cage remained a cage regardless of its decoration.

Celeste leaned closer once again, and I could hear the smile hidden within her whisper.

"You could always choose not to murder the tragic lovers in your office. It would be a bold new business strategy." I slowly turned my head and glared at her. She looked perfectly innocent. A suspicious sound came from Adrian's direction, perhaps an attempted cough. My attention returned to Malcolm and Vera.

"You're an idiot," I informed Malcolm. He lowered his head.

"Yes."

"You cheated inside my casino."

"Yes."

"You risked my wrath, damaged my reputation, and endangered your life because you believed enough gold would convince nobles to accept you."

"Yes." My gaze shifted toward Vera.

"And you're a princess kneeling upon my carpet, offering to die for a man who couldn't even cheat properly." Malcolm winced. Vera raised her chin.

"Yes." I studied them both for a long moment before releasing a heavy and thoroughly suffering sigh. It was the sigh of a woman surrounded by fools, romantics, and Celeste's influence.

"Disgusting." Vera blinked, and Malcolm looked confused. I rose from my chair, and Celeste immediately smiled.

"Malcolm will not die today." Relief struck Vera so sharply that she nearly collapsed. I raised one finger before gratitude could escape either of them.

"Don't look relieved yet. He still cheated inside my house, and unlike royalty, I don't pretend rules disappear whenever feelings become inconvenient." Malcolm swallowed.

"I understand."

"You will repay every coin connected to your cheating three times over." His face paled once again.

"You will also work beneath Adrian until the debt is satisfied." One of Adrian's eyebrows rose slightly. I ignored him.

"You will not approach the tables, cards, dice, or wagers. Instead, you will scrub floors, carry crates, clean ash, polish railings, and perform whatever other duties my staff considers beneath them until I'm satisfied." Malcolm bowed his head.

"Yes, Lady Vaust."

"If your hands begin moving strangely near one of my games again, I will remove them and have Celeste label the jars." Celeste sighed.

"Must I?"

"You enjoy decorating."

"Not with hands."

"Everyone possesses limits." Vera looked between us as though she couldn't determine whether we were serious. It was better that she remain uncertain.

"As for you, Princess…" Vera immediately stiffened.

"You will stop sneaking into my casino like a badly trained spy." A flush spread across her cheeks.

"Should you come here again, you will do so properly, beneath my invitation and with discretion. You will also refrain from bringing royal guards into my private rooms."

"I didn't bring them," she quietly protested.

"They followed me."

"Then train them better."

"I don't believe princesses are permitted to train royal guards." I smiled.

"Then become a more troublesome princess." Something shifted in Vera's expression as she considered my words. Her fear remained, but beneath it appeared the first hint of defiance. I settled back into my chair and folded my hands across the desk.

"Now you will both tell me everything about this arranged marriage, the man who expects to own you, and every royal fool involved in the transaction." Vera stared at me.

"Why?" For a long moment, I simply looked at her. I knew what it meant to be treated like property, and the thought of another father placing a price upon his daughter stirred an anger I had never fully buried. Celeste would also make my existence unbearable if I refused to interfere. None of that needed to be spoken. I smiled instead.

"Because, Princess Vera, if your family insists upon treating you like property, I've become curious about what they believe that property is worth." Malcolm's fear returned at once. Vera stared at me as though she had finally understood that the monster across the desk wasn't safe, only useful when pointed in the right direction. Celeste's smile warmed beside me. At the door, Adrian gave a single approving nod, his expression otherwise unreadable. As for me, I had become regrettably interested.