Chương 27: More Than Useful

I later learned that Vera had gathered every copied ledger, confession, payment record, and witness statement Adrian had uncovered against Duke Edmund Vale and placed them directly before her father. Apparently, that was enough to defuse the matter of House Vaust destroying a duke's estate in the middle of the night. Mostly… The king was understandably displeased.

Nobles tended to become fussy when one of their dukes was discovered with a hole through his stomach, three dead S-rank mercenaries scattered across his lawn, half his private army butchered, and enough documented crimes to disgrace several generations of his family. Personally, I thought the evidence improved the atmosphere by making everything feel official. Vale's crimes were more than enough to justify his execution.

Beneath respectable phrases such as "debt labor" and "war restitution," he had built an illegal slave trade. Royal funds disappeared into his private accounts, officials accepted his bribes, witnesses were silenced, civilians were forced into service, bandits received his coin, cursed reagents crossed borders under his protection, and widows lost land that should never have been his to claim. Two of his wives had also died under suspicious circumstances.

Their ghosts, if they existed, were probably applauding from somewhere cold and vindictive. According to the crown, the only real problem was that Vale's execution had been more violent and considerably less scheduled than the king would have preferred. How tragic. My heart wept for a moment before remembering who it belonged to and stopping. Vera handled the situation better than I expected. She didn't enter the palace as a frightened daughter begging her father's forgiveness.

She arrived as a princess armed with documents, witnesses, and blood still caught beneath the edges of her nails. Celeste repeated that particular detail three separate times. Vera stood before the king and explained that House Vaust had uncovered a slave operation within Stonehaven territory, acted to free its captives, recovered evidence of treason, and removed a duke who intended to use a royal marriage as the foundation for a coup. It was an impressively tidy version of events.

She made no mention of my fist passing through Vale's body. People rarely appreciated artistry in formal reports. The king was frail but not entirely foolish, so he accepted the evidence. He could hardly do otherwise. Vale had left too much corruption behind, and Vera had dragged every piece of it into the light. The second prince was less fortunate. He had been responsible for placing royal soldiers under Vale's command.

Officially, he had allowed a temporary escort force to assist a respected duke in detaining suspected criminals. Unofficially, he had been nurturing a grudge since I threw him out of my casino and banned him from returning. Princes apparently disliked being told they couldn't gamble away money they had never earned. The king's public reprimand was amusing, though hardly sufficient.

The second prince lost several privileges, multiple political allies, and whatever respect he still commanded among Stonehaven's military officers. According to Adrian, most commanders preferred not to be associated with failed conspiracies and dead dukes.

"All's well that ends well," Celeste remarked after finishing her explanation. I considered that for a moment.

"I prefer all's well when everyone irritating is dead.'" Her smile widened.

"That's not how the saying goes, Mother."

"It's an improvement." In truth, the crown had never frightened me. Kings were simply men wearing expensive circles of metal while pretending their bones had been crafted from finer material than everyone else's. Eventually, they died, their children fought over chairs, and history polished whichever corpse remained useful. Stonehaven was no different. The kingdom was wealthy, useful, and stable enough to build upon for the moment, but it wasn't frightening. The crown possessed walls, while I possessed time.

That was hardly a fair contest, but the crown wasn't what concerned me. A far more troubling sensation had begun taking shape within me after Malcolm and Vera became bound to my blood. Four presences now rested somewhere behind my ribs, bound to me by threads no eye could see. Adrian and Celeste had settled into my existence long ago, becoming familiar and constant, like scars I had carried for so long that I no longer remembered the unmarked flesh beneath them.

They were occasionally irritating, but they never felt foreign. Malcolm and Vera were different. Their connections were new, vivid, and raw. Whenever I focused, their lives brushed against mine through faint pulses of hunger, instinct, and emotion. I could ignore those sensations when necessary, but I could never silence them completely. They belonged to my blood now, bound to me in the same inconvenient and permanent way as Adrian and Celeste. The four bonds carried weight.

It wasn't unbearable, but it was impossible to overlook. Creating two more kin had taken far more from me than blood. Something buried beneath flesh and magic had been strained, revealing a limit I had never known existed. My blood could sustain only so many lives. I couldn't fill the world with kin, nor pour my blood freely whenever another tragic love story collapsed at my feet. Perhaps that was a mercy, especially given the pattern forming around me.

At this rate, the next two would undoubtedly arrive as another hopelessly devoted couple. Fate had an appalling sense of humor. It kept pushing dying lovers into my path as though I were some blood-covered priestess responsible for preserving romance. I was nothing of the sort. I was a casino owner with standards, although those standards had developed an alarming habit of letting people into my family. While I remained unconscious for ten days, the world had continued moving without my permission.

Malcolm had apparently impressed several royal knights when his new ability manifested, though gravity was hardly a gift suited for subtlety. When a man could force three armored soldiers to their knees with nothing more than a clenched fist, people paid attention. The palace noticed, the knights certainly noticed, and Vera noticed more than anyone else. Once the scandal surrounding Vale had settled, the king offered Malcolm a formal position within the royal guard.

Part of that decision came from Malcolm's usefulness, part came from Vera's insistence on keeping him near, and the rest came from the king having enough experience to recognize when arguing with his daughter would only cost him dignity. Malcolm accepted. He hadn't suddenly developed any affection for the crown. He still watched the palace as though it might steal Vera the moment he blinked.

Becoming a knight gave Malcolm the one thing he had once tried to win through stolen cards and desperation: a place beside Vera. In time, he would become her personal knight, an outcome I found disgustingly poetic and Celeste found romantic enough to discuss for nearly an hour. Vera, meanwhile, intended to remain near her father for as long as she could. The king's health was failing faster than anyone at court wished to acknowledge. His hands trembled during court, and his voice carried more memory than strength.

She wanted whatever time remained with him before death claimed what politics had failed to destroy. Her decision surprised me, though perhaps it shouldn't have. Vera cared little for her siblings. Her brothers continued circling the throne like starving dogs around a locked pantry, each convinced the kingdom would flourish beneath his particular style of incompetence. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. She had no desire to join their struggle.

Vera intended to support stability wherever she could, protect what still mattered to her, and remain beside her father until his death. When that day came, she would leave the palace behind and devote herself fully to House Vaust. To our family and me, I still don't know how I feel about that. Her mother remained the only subject Vera refused to discuss. She never shared a pleasant memory or offered a bitter complaint. There was no grief, anger, or affection whenever the woman was mentioned.

There was only indifference. That usually meant something, but I had no interest in digging through it unless the matter became my problem. People carried their dead in different ways. Some buried them, some wore them, and others pretended the grave had never existed. I was hardly in a position to judge. For the moment, Vera traveled between the palace and our estate, usually accompanied by Malcolm and Vesper.

I suspected the bird disliked me, although that judgment was based almost entirely on the way it stared whenever I entered the room. Vesper watched from doorframes, curtain rods, and the backs of chairs. Once, I discovered her perched atop my wardrobe, where she had no possible reason to be unless she wished to test how far I could throw a crystallized crow. Vera insisted that Vesper was merely curious. I insisted that curiosity belonged outside my bedroom.

The bird responded with a single caw before turning her head away like a noblewoman dismissing an irritating servant. I considered vaporizing her, but then she would respawn anyway. Vera appeared so pleased with the creature that I restrained myself. That was growth. The casino continued to flourish. Vale's death appeared to improve business rather than harm it. Nothing attracted nobles quite like danger that had already happened to someone else.

They came to whisper, gamble, and pretend they were braver than they truly were, gathering beneath Vaust lights as though standing near violence made them more interesting. The attack had changed how people viewed House Vaust. Before that night, we had been wealthy, strange, feared by some, and envied by many. Afterward, everyone understood a much simpler truth. We were dangerous. That realization did wonderful things for discipline. Attempts at cheating declined. Threats disappeared entirely.

Debtors paid with remarkable speed, and nobles who had once spoken down to Celeste now smiled at her with the careful terror of people who had recently learned manners through someone else's suffering. Adrian expanded our security, and Celeste expanded the casino's operations. I expanded my plans. The casino remained too small for what I envisioned. It was too primitive and restricted by the limitations of the era.

The world needed better plumbing, stronger engineering, brighter lights, smoother roads, and forms of entertainment humans had not yet imagined. My true vision would require time. Perhaps a century or two would be enough. Time was the one resource I possessed in an obscene quantity. Stonehaven would grow, and the world would change around it. Technology would drag itself forward as humans forced metal and magic into increasingly ambitious shapes.

When civilization finally became capable of containing what I imagined, House Vaust would already possess the land, wealth, influence, and rules necessary to claim it. For now, I own a casino. One day, I intended to rule a kingdom contained within a single building. The plan was simple, elegant, and ruinously expensive. Naturally, Celeste had opinions. She found me one evening seated on the second-floor balcony overlooking the casino, where every table below was occupied.

Dice clicked against polished wood, cards whispered through practiced fingers, and coins slid between players like tiny golden insects. I rested in my chair with one elbow against the armrest and my chin balanced on my hand. Celeste approached carrying two glasses of wine and wearing the expression of a woman preparing to say far too much. I briefly considered escaping. She reached me before I could act. Celeste handed me one glass and settled into the matching chair beside mine.

She had insisted upon adding it because, according to her, a family throne appeared lonely when it possessed only one seat. The statement remained ridiculous. Unfortunately, the second chair had proven useful.

"You look thoughtful." Celeste commented.

"I was enjoying the silence."

"No, you were brooding."

"I don't brood." I sighed internally, not this damn conversation again.

"You brood beautifully." I accepted the wine.

"That sentence should cost you your balcony privileges." She smiled and turned her attention toward the casino floor.

"They're afraid of us now."

"They should've been afraid before."

"They were, but their fear was built on uncertainty." Celeste slowly swirled the wine in her glass.

"Before, no one knew what House Vaust was truly capable of. Now they have seen what happens when someone crosses us, and they watched the entire house endure the aftermath without breaking."

"I did more than endure it. I slept through most of it."

"That only made the impression stronger." I glanced toward her as her smile softened.

"Adrian secured the estate, Vera confronted the palace, Malcolm joined the knights, and I kept the casino running. You were unconscious for ten days, yet House Vaust never faltered."

"Was that supposed to comfort me?"

"It was meant to remind you that you're not alone." I looked away. The casino floor suddenly became fascinating. Below us, a merchant lost a hand of cards and laughed too loudly to hide his frustration. The dealer responded with flawless politeness, while one of Adrian's guards watched from beside a pillar without moving. Celeste resumed speaking because silence apparently threatened her survival.

"You created something that can continue breathing even when you close your eyes."

"I closed my eyes because I emptied myself into two dying fools."

"Yes," she agreed brightly.

"Our newest fools." A sigh escaped me.

"You're far too pleased about this."

"I am." Celeste leaned back until her shoulder brushed mine.

"I like them."

"You like anyone who appears sad and devoted."

"That's not true." I looked at her. She considered her answer.

"It's mostly untrue."

"Celeste."

"They love each other, and they needed us. Vera needed somewhere she could choose her future, and Malcolm needed a chance to remain beside her. You recognized that."

"I saw two people dying and made a practical decision." I'm no saint, but at the very least I'm not without any feelings.

"You punched a duke through the stomach because he cut Malcolm's throat."

"That was also practical." He was a disgusting human being; who wouldn't want to end such a man?

"You carried Malcolm back to Vera."

"He was leaking blood onto my shoulder."

"You asked whether he wished to live."

"I'm very polite." Celeste stared at me. I calmly drank my wine. A laugh escaped her.

"For someone who claims not to care, you're remarkably bad at proving it."

"I have nothing to prove."

"No," she agreed.

"You do not." Her tone became quieter, losing its playful edge. Despite myself, I glanced toward her. Celeste continued watching the casino floor, but her gaze had grown distant.

"When Adrian and I first called you Mother, part of me did it because I wanted to tease you."

"I knew it." This damn girl!

"It wasn't the only reason." A faint smile touched her lips.

"I wanted a name for what you had become to us. You saved us, scolded us, and gave us rules. You acted irritated whenever we followed you, but you never truly ordered us to leave."

"You were useful."

"Yes, we were useful." Celeste waved one hand dismissively.

"That's very convenient phrasing for someone committed to avoiding her emotions. I admire your dedication." I narrowed my eyes. She ignored the warning with the confidence of a woman who had survived my company for more than eighty years.

"Malcolm and Vera look at you in a similar way now. Their bonds are new, and they're still frightened, but the feeling is there."

"I'm aware."

"Does that bother you?"

"Yes." Celeste blinked, apparently surprised by the honesty of my answer. I lowered my gaze to the wine within my glass.

"It's a burden." She remained silent. Miracles occasionally happened.

"They're bound to me. All of you are. If I die, you will die with me. When I weaken, you feel it, and any mistake I make reaches beyond my life." My fingers tightened around the glass.

"I dislike carrying that responsibility."

"Do you dislike the responsibility itself?"

"I dislike the attachment." Celeste's expression softened in a way I immediately distrusted. I pointed toward her.

"Don't make that face."

"What face?"

"The one that announces you're preparing to say something sentimental."

"I would never do such a thing."

"You would always do such a thing." She smiled.

"Very well… I will say something practical instead."

"Try not to injure yourself."

"You're frightened because attachments can be used against you." I said nothing. Celeste's voice became gentler.

"They can also keep you from falling apart." I hated how easily she could speak that way, as though tenderness didn't possess teeth and love wasn't a knife placed into someone else's hand. My family had once held that knife, followed by Lord Vane and then the village. Each of them had taught me the same lesson: belonging became a cage whenever someone else controlled the lock. Celeste leaned closer.

"We're not chains, Mother." My throat tightened with an emotion I had no intention of examining. I took another drink of wine and attempted to drown it.

"You speak too much."

"I know."

"You turn everything into a dramatic performance."

"I learned from you."

"That's slander."

"That's an observation." I looked toward her, and she smiled with enough warmth that I nearly threw my wine at her out of principle. Instead, I slowly exhaled.

"If this family becomes any louder, I will seal myself inside a coffin for fifty years." Celeste brightened immediately.

"We would decorate it."

"Don't you dare."

"We could add velvet lining."

"No."

"Silver embroidery?"

"Absolutely not."

"What about violet silk?" I hesitated. Celeste gasped.

"You considered it."

"I considered strangling you with it." She laughed with obvious delight and rested her head against my shoulder. I should've moved away, but I remained where I was. Below us, the casino glowed with candlelight and greed as mortals laughed, lied, wagered, and pretended the night belonged to them. Adrian's guards moved through the crowd with disciplined precision, while Celeste's rules guided every dealer and table beneath them.

Beyond those walls, Malcolm trained beneath royal banners, though his loyalty belonged far more completely to Vera than it ever would to a king. Vera remained between two worlds, balancing her place within the palace against the new life waiting for her in House Vaust. I sat above it all with Celeste resting against my side and the faint pulse of four lives bound to mine. They were a burden, and there was no denying it. Celeste's fingers curled lightly around my sleeve.

"You're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I will bite you."

"That's not the threat you believe it is." I closed my eyes.

"Old woman," I muttered.

"Immortal monster."

"Motor-mouthed menace."

"Beloved mother." I opened one eye and found Celeste still smiling at me.

"You're becoming far too comfortable."

"I've had many years of practice." The warmth in her voice settled too deeply for my liking, so I returned my attention to the casino before she could notice. The future stretched before us, vast and unfinished. My true dream might require another century or two to take shape, perhaps even longer. New cities, enemies, fools, and rivers of blood would undoubtedly find their way into my path, along with more family than I had ever intended to gather. It was troublesome, inconvenient, and undeniably mine.