2

  Unpleasant Visits

  GOLDEN IRISES REFLECTED the continually ticking—and equally as gold—hands of a clock. Aurelius set his jaw as the seconds passed without mercy, the already encapsulating room seeming to shrink further. Unknown stains decorated the walls, reeking mould lived upon the ceiling; that persistent clock, and the killer’s incessant scratching at the rusty table between them. All of it began to slowly close in on Aurelius, making focus a hard goal to achieve.

  The grey-haired man chortled at the look of obvious disdain on the prince’s youthful face. He hopped up and down on his chair, amused, handcuffed wrists clinking and scraping as he squirmed. With their eye contact severed, he had successfully escaped the prince’s influence for a short time.

  Knowing his entourage all too well, Aurelius lifted a hand to the two-way mirror to stop them from likely barging in and interrupting his process. The criminal was annoying, but not the toughest opponent he’d faced. He slammed his palms down and suddenly stood, looming over the criminal. Even in a corroding interrogation room, the prince rounded the table with an air of poise and grace that was simply synonymous to his title and name.

  Staring his target down with a gaze sharp enough to slit a throat, Aurelius captured the man’s eyes again and breathed calmly. A flash of glowing gold in the prince’s amber eyes, and the man’s jaw went slack; the life momentarily sucked out of him. If he was underestimating his opponent earlier, now Aurelius might be overexerting his power.

  It was disgusting.

  He felt sick to his stomach, yet still meticulously searched through the killer’s innermost desires—first present, then past. His present desire was to wield a scythe and gut Aurelius like a fish. The prince barely flinched, and even almost rolled his eyes, as he reached for a past desire instead.

  The man’s second to most recent desire had been to mutilate a woman who—in the foggy shapes of his mind—Aurelius recognised as the woman they’d been searching for; the daughter of a civil official. He grasped on to the desire and delved into the associated memories. A series of intense flashes tore through his mind at breakneck speed: images, voices, words, screams.

  Heat.

  Burning flesh.

  He caught the scent of a distinct and fragrant tobacco blend. It was unlike those Samun often smoked, but it was familiar—he’d smelled it somewhere before. The pipe belonged to another person, not the man in custody, as they both watched a corpse burn. Aurelius couldn’t distinguish anything notable about that person, as if the memories had been purposely distorted, possibly by drugs.

  His clouded gaze abruptly cleared.

  The criminal’s head hung limply. Aurelius began to raise a trembling hand to his forehead before remembering the eyes on him, then instead redirected the hand to fix his tie. He coolly looked toward the mirror.

  “I know where she is,” he said, addressing the Captain of Lelis’s Imperial Constabulary Station. “But I need a pen and paper.”

  As Aurelius made for the door, just then, his arm was roughly yanked backwards. He stumbled. Before he knew it, the killer managed to seize his collar, dirt encrusted fingernails digging into the delicate fabric, eyes unnaturally wide; completely unhinged.

  Aurelius startled and froze.

  Then, as he was about to react, the old man opened his mouth. “DAIMON ABOMINATION! YOU SHOULDN’T BE ALIVE, HALF-BREED SCUM!” he roared with the frantic look of a madman, spit flying, hysterically shaking him.

  Aurelius couldn’t find the energy to shove him off. Foolishly, he allowed it to happen in frozen horror, as if he’d forgotten how to make his muscles move. Invading the grotesque memories of a serial killer wasn’t easy nor pleasant—how could he not be caught off guard?

  “YOU’RE A MONSTER! JUST YOU WAIT, JUST—”

  Suddenly, the door swung open, slamming against the wall as it did. Aurelius’s personal knight and the constabulary captain grabbed hold of the crazed man and forcibly tore him off. While they, along with two other officers, restrained the criminal, a young woman rushed to Aurelius’s side.

  Aurelius staggered back. Mira was speaking to him, her brows drawn in concern, her hand gently laid on his face…but he couldn’t discern what she was saying.

  His disorientation from perceiving the man’s desires, accompanied by the muddling panic and distress from what’d happened, made him feel as if he were underwater; the world muffled around him. The only sounds clear in his ears were his own heartbeat and the man’s echoing words circling his mind.

  You’re a monster…

  “Aurelius!”

  Mira slapped his cheek, and the sting brought focus back to his eyes. He blinked a few times, regaining his sense of self.

  “Are you all right, Your Highness? Have you returned to your senses?” She lowered her voice, despite their interaction going unnoticed by the men caught in a struggle behind her.

  “Ye–yes, my apologies,” he said. “I’m not sure what got into me but… I appreciate your efforts to wake me, Miss Soreva.”

  Mira cleared her throat, composing the worry yet to fade from her face. “On the contrary, Your Highness, I apologise for my brashness,” she said resolutely. “A servant shan’t ever lay a hand on their prince nor address him without title—no matter the circumstance.”

  Aurelius’s brows furrowed. He was about to respond when movement caught his eye; he instead looked at the chaos subdued behind her. The two officers had finally managed to secure the criminal in a strong enough hold to keep him still without the captain and knight’s help.

  “On the eve of the rising sun,” the criminal cackled, spit flying, his words broken up by bouts of maniacal laughter, “you will finally—finally!—meet your wretched end, abomination!”

  But his prattling went widely ignored.

  The knight, Raen Harstead, approached his prince with concern etched on his brow. “Your Highness, were you harmed?”

  Aurelius smiled; polite and reassuring. “I’m fine.” His attention again drifted to the criminal. He’d become eerily quiet, standing limp in the officers’ hold, his body twitching every so often.

  Aurelius glanced at Mira beside him, extending a hand. Words weren’t needed; she immediately understood. Mira retrieved a notepad and pen from the messenger bag at her side, passing them over. He drew out a map to the Lelis house he’d seen in the man’s mind, as well as coordinates to a location in Néro.

  Tearing out the page, Aurelius handed it to the captain. “Forward the coordinates to the Néro precinct; it may relate to their missing persons cases,” he said. “As for the map, send your men to the old house I circled. She’s in the basement, and the trapdoor is hidden in the kitchen. Be wary of traps and…”

  Captain Quilen studied the map but lifted his eyes at the pause. “And what, sir?”

  Aurelius hesitated, unsure if he should say or not, but ultimately relented. Even if he was wrong, it was better to keep the officers informed and alert rather than ignorant and careless.

  “I saw someone with him burning cadavers,” he said quietly, side-eyeing the killer whose twitching was growing frequent and violent. “There might be an accomplice, so tell your officers to maintain the utmost vigilance in their operation.”

  “Acknowledged, sir,” said the captain with a respectful salute. “If there is an accomplice, rest assured that we will bring him to justice.”

  But Aurelius was no longer listening.

  The killer’s minor spasms had developed into a seizure, and the officers restraining him exchanged panicked looks. However, before either could call for assistance, Aurelius was already in front of them, having passed the captain without so much as a word.

  “What’s wrong with him?” he demanded.

  As the old man’s body spasmed violently, his eyes rolled to the back of his head so that only the whites could be seen. He was foaming at the mouth, cracked yellow teeth on display for all to see.

  “By the stars…” Raen muttered incredulously beside the prince; his hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword.

  The officers managed to keep their hold on the man as his fit continued but, judging by their expressions of fear and bewilderment, it was obvious they wanted very much to release him.

  “W-we don’t know, Your Highness!” exclaimed one of them in response to Aurelius’s question.

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  “He was fine a moment ago but he suddenly started convulsing like this,” the other officer said, considerably calmer than the first but his discomfort remained apparent. “Should we call the paramedics?”

  Before Aurelius—or anyone—could even open his mouth to give an order, the man’s seizure abruptly ceased. Silence hung in the air. Was it…over? Curiosity won over protocol, and everyone waited to see what would happen next with bated breaths.

  Then the killer lurched forward, retching all over the floor and his own feet.

  Mira uttered a sound of disgust and shuffled further back, turning away from the vile scene. The captain cursed and snapped at his officers to release the sick man—which they did without complaint, retreating. Soon as he was let go, the killer crumbled to the stained floor. Covered in his own bile, groaning and grunting, he tried to crawl towards the prince, pupils narrowed to pinpricks, crazed eyes bloodshot.

  While Raen held a white-gloved hand to his nose, repulsed by the stench and image before him, his other arm still shot out to block Aurelius from drawing nearer.

  The pitiful criminal reached out a trembling hand to touch Aurelius’s boot, but the prince simply drew a step back and watched with an apathetic, calculating expression. Foam trickled out the corner of the man’s mouth. He struggled to breathe, wheezing, gurgling…then convulsed one last time. He went still, bulging eyes wide open.

  However, Aurelius’s attention wasn’t on the writhing man, but instead the peculiar colouration of the bile had grasped his interest. Blood mixed with clots of a black-green substance.

  A slight knit in his brow, Aurelius inclined his head. He ducked under his knight’s arm and knelt by the puddle of vomit, covering his nose as he examined the clots. Could he have been poisoned? Or overdosed?

  “Why’re you lot just standing there?!” Captain Quilen barked at his officers—having watched the scene play out in shock, they jumped at their commander’s yell. “Fetch the medic and somebody to clean this mess up! Go!”

  “Y-yessir!” they both shouted, saluting, and scurried out the door, careful to avoid the bile as they went.

  The captain turned to Aurelius, who’d risen to his feet. “Your Highness,” he said, now respectful, “please step outside while we handle the body and…the rest. I apologise you had to bear witness to such a revolting display. This humble subject thanks you, on behalf of our city of Lelis, for your aid in interrogating the wretch.”

  Aurelius was still lost in thought as he stared down at the corpse and the puddle of blood-vomit surrounding it. Raen lightly nudged his arm. Aurelius lifted his head.

  “Ah, yes, don’t mention it,” he said. “I was only doing my part. Please, be sure to keep me updated on the case’s progress through Miss Soreva, Captain.”

  Captain Quilen gave him a sharp salute. “Yes, sir.”

  Aurelius nodded his acknowledgement, then passed the captain to exit the grimy interrogation room, his guard and aide trailing behind. As they made their way down the station’s deteriorating halls, Raen jogged to catch up with the prince’s stride.

  “What in the ysaelas even happened back there?” Raen asked, gripping his sword. “Does he have some kind of disease? He seemed healthy when we got here, what with how eager he was to claw your eyes out and all.”

  Aurelius grimaced. “I appreciate the mental image, Harstead,” he muttered dryly. “If you’re done, can you go ensure the carriage is ready?”

  Raen cleared his throat. “On it, boss.” He bowed his head, then quickened his pace to a jog once more.

  Aurelius slowed once his knight ran off, falling into step with Mira. He glanced at her. Her gaze was levelled but clouded with thoughts. Barely anything fazed her, yet her knuckles were clenched white on her bag strap.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

  Mira snapped out of it, looking up at him, then averted her gaze to the floor. “You needn’t worry about me, my prince,” she said. “In fact, I’m the one who should be worrying about you. You seemed to have some trouble reading that man, should I—”

  “No,” he interrupted. “I assure you, I’m fine. Only tired but that’s nothing a little sleep won’t fix.”

  She pursed her lips, loosening her grip on the strap. “If you say so.”

  Outside, a praziu-powered carriage was already waiting. Tiny golden runes that looked like pretty nonsensical designs from afar detailed the glossy black carriage, and driving it was Elyon Vakalyn, Aurelius’s second knight. The two mechanical horses creaked and occasionally whinnied while Elyon spoke to them, as if they were alive. Raen stood by the carriage door, waiting to hold it open for the prince and his aide to get on.

  Aurelius paused at the foot of the steps and spared a glance at Elyon talking to the mechanical horses before lowering his gaze to Raen. “What is he doing?” he asked.

  Raen only sighed, shrugging. Aurelius decided to let Elyon’s odd behaviour go, getting in the carriage with Mira. Raen shut the door after them and hopped up to sit beside Elyon.

  Aurelius knocked twice on the wood above him; a signal to get the carriage moving. It was a long ride from Lelis to Fora, and he had much to do back at the palace.

  Though his heavy eyelids argued he should sleep, Aurelius utilised the long ride to finish the paperwork he had Mira bring along. The work was tedious, and the bumpy roads infuriated him to no end each time he had to write, but he preferred it to wasting his free time sleeping.

  “You know, sire, contrary to your belief, a couple hours’ rest will not ruin you,” Mira said, after a period of silence filled with only shuffling papers and metal hooves against dirt. “But if it pains you to sleep, why not take a look out the window at least? Your mind needs to relax.”

  Aurelius peeked at her over his glasses, then cracked a smile. “Should I?” he said hoarsely, stretching his arms. “I suppose I’ve been at it for a while now. We should be reaching Fora soon anyway, so I might as well.”

  He removed his round gold-rimmed reading glasses and blinked strongly to adjust his sight. Folding them, he placed the glasses on the velvet seat beside him before scooting to the window.

  “How is it?” she asked.

  Aurelius rested his chin in his palm. “Barren,” he muttered, frowning as he scanned the vast stretch of savannah. “Barren and desolate.” He turned away, wearing his glasses. “I have to say this is far from relaxing, Miss Soreva. If anything, the sight only further strengthens my resolve.”

  Sitting in the centre of Lake Pallas atop a natural island, Vaeterni Palace was truly a sight to behold. Marble columns glittering with gold veins in sunlight, lush flora hugging both west and east roads leading up to the palace, and a pearl-white water fountain gleaming before the entrance. Aurelius’s carriage rode in from the eastern bridge, having gone through the bustling Financial District.

  Inside, the palace’s magnificence shone even brighter. Polished marble floors, high ceilings depicting intricate ancient artwork, shining chandeliers—everything either gold and white or gold and black; the imperial colours.

  However, Aurelius didn’t stop to marvel at the beauty surrounding him; instead, he’d raced through the foyer, up the wide stairway, and stormed down the halls to his chambers.

  Upon exiting his carriage moments prior, he was quickly greeted with the most irritating of news—which could be said about most any news concerning his older brother but this was worse than the usual theatrics. The knight delivering the message had added that the Prospect Crown Prince was awaiting Aurelius’s return upstairs to have a word with him.

  Standing outside his bedroom door, Aurelius couldn’t fathom what more his brother could have to say. Whatever it was would likely end up angering him, so the prince steadied his breath—after having run all the way there—to compose himself before pushing the door open. The Prospect Crown Prince was loitering by one of Aurelius’s bookshelves, glancing over the spines with a glazed look in his eyes that exposed he wasn’t reading any of the titles.

  When the room’s owner entered, Adrastos turned with a grin. “Good evening, Aurelius.” He lowered himself into the leather chair at the desk, mischief glinting in his dark amber eyes. Those golden irises were the only thing they had in common, other than being the Emperor’s sons.

  Shutting the door, Aurelius took in the current scene with suspicion. “Evening, elir,” he said calmly, though his gaze scanned the room for anything out of place.

  “How was Lelis?”

  Aurelius didn’t return his older brother’s radiant smile. “It was fine.” Pausing near the desk, he remained standing. “Although, we should set aside a budget to renovate the constabulary station; it was practically crumbling in on itself.”

  “You mean you should,” Adrastos said, smirking. “As you know, the crown prince is far too busy for such insignificant matters.”

  Annoyance twinged in Aurelius’s chest but he didn’t dare let it show. “Forgive me,” he said. “I must do so, since the prospect crown prince is preoccupied with his social life.”

  “What a useless crown prince.”

  “So it seems.” Aurelius flashed a smile as fleeting as spring snow. “Now, as riveting as our little chats are, why are you lurking in my room, elir?”

  The playfulness on Adrastos’s face faded. He got to his feet and pretended to browse the books again, hands held behind him—a posture Aurelius recognised to be one often accompanied by a regretful apology and a sea of excuses.

  “I assume Darius delivered the message?” Adrastos said.

  Aurelius crossed his arms. “I see you’ve taken to delivering bad news through your knight now.”

  Adrastos shrugged. “I’d say my new method is working quite well,” he said, a smile in his voice. “Gives you time to collect yourself and that hateful glare of yours. Wouldn’t want the servants gossiping about how much we despise each other, now would you? That’d surely tarnish your reputation as the empire’s ‘golden and gracious’ second prince.”

  Aurelius cleared his throat, briefly averting his gaze. “That’s enough stalling. You broke your promise—you said you’d attend tonight’s ball on behalf of House Tsyrenov.”

  “Promise?” Adrastos laughed and turned, approaching. “I did say I would, but I never promised it. There’s a difference, dear liri.” He stopped before Aurelius, just tall enough to force the latter to look up. “What’s the issue? You shall go in my stead; entertain the court, feed the vultures, waltz with a pretty lady. What’s so difficult?”

  Prince Adrastos’s smile held not a hint of warmth. With each word that left his venomous tongue, Aurelius could hear his own patience thinning and cracking like ice. There was much he desired to say without a filter but he kept his mouth shut and, instead, carefully sifted through his initial reaction to acquire a response more appropriate for the second prince to the heir apparent.

  “It’s not that it’s difficult, Your Highness,” Aurelius said through forced calmness. “It’s that I’ve made prior engagements and explicitly informed you I’d be taking the train to Veneficia tonight. Are you certain your impromptu ‘leisure trip’ to Néro cannot wait until tomorrow?”

  “It can’t. And besides, Father already approved. What of your trip? Can’t that wait? What urgent business do you have in Veneficia?”

  Aurelius wasn’t surprised. That much was expected. Though it irritated him that the Emperor always sided with his eldest, he couldn’t say a word as he had no answer to Adrastos’s question. Or rather, he couldn’t respond.

  “Fine,” he relented, withholding a sigh. “I’ll postpone my trip and attend the ball. Is that all you wanted? My verbal defeat?”

  Adrastos smiled in a particularly cocky way that made Aurelius suddenly want to smack him. “Bullseye. I’m glad we could come to an amiable understanding.” He winked, then made for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I must get going if I’m to reach the station in time. Say hello to the lovely ladies at the ball for me, would you?”

  Only once the door closed shut behind him did Aurelius move to lean back against his dark-oak shelves. He inhaled, then exhaled deeply through his nose, allowing the familiar scent of worn pages, ornja tea leaves, and rich wood to envelope him. Yet even that comfort couldn’t distract him from the fact that this was going to be a very long night.

  Aurelius sorely regretted not napping in the carriage when he had the chance.