The Queen sipped her tea. "Nothing is free, even in death. Between you and me…" she rested her cheek in her gloved right hand. "I think Death's terms are quite fair." Lucian thought he saw something under her veil stir curiously and forced himself not to pry.
Still…I hadn't thought summoning me would have a high price—who was I kidding? I died in my world. Life for a life, even across universes… The pressure coiled around Lucian like a boa constrictor. "I…I see. I'll do my best."
When she heard his voice wobble, Marguerite said gently, "That is all we could ask of you." From the corner of his eye, Lucian thought he saw a big black shadow loom over the Queen—but it disappeared when he turned for a closer look.
"Not all we could ask of you," a voice whispered in his ear. The temperature dropped as he realized it was a warped version of his own voice. "We could have asked for worse." Instinctively, Lucian swatted at the air and goosebumps rose on his skin.
"Mm…" He looked up and the chandelier's ruby crystals blinked. The candlelight flickered dangerously as it swayed back and forth. It was creepily hypnotic. "Are…all your chandeliers like this?"
Queen Marguerite tilted her head and Lucian saw her veil sway a bit too far, revealing a bit of ivory bone along the curve of her cheek. "I beg your pardon?"
"The chandelier blinked at me. It hasn't stopped."
Even with empty eye sockets, Kingsley managed to look confused. Rosa was suddenly very interested in crumbling her bread roll, and the Queen focused on her tea. The silence stretched on like a guitar string pulled taut.
Finally, the Queen said softly, "Dear mortician…there are no chandeliers in this hall. Your bedroom has just the one." He couldn't read her expression, and that frightened him. "My…" he grasped for any explanation other than 'I'm being hunted by a malevolent spirit.'
He settled on clearing his throat, half-laughing. "Sorry, I might be remembering my previous world." Either I laugh or break down completely, and I don't think the Queen would be very interested in the latter.
"Perfectly common side effect," Kingsley added helpfully as he massaged his jaw.
"Especially for long-distance travel. You might have picked up a stray entity or two during your rebirth."
Lucian tried not to look up again. Eat before all the flavor disappears from your food. But this time, his mental scolding didn't help. It was like his head was being pulled by an invisible string, begging him to look up.
Unfortunately, he was unbearably human, and had little to no defenses against demonic suggestion. It was like an out-of-body experience for Lucian: he was horrified when he felt his head tilt back, ever so slowly…until he saw it.
A large silver chandelier decorated with teardrop-shaped rubies. White and red striped candles floated inside the holders, their flicker more menacing than calm. And in unison, each ruby blinked and then stayed perfectly still.
Lucian's breath hitched and he tried to snap his head back down—but it wouldn't obey. His hands clawed against the tablecloth, waiting for the others to react.
Instead, the Queen and Rosa continued eating. Kingsley busied himself with writing a report. The mortician felt betrayed and ashamed at the same time. He didn't deserve this treatment—but he did.
'Because you spoke out of turn yesterday.' The warped voice of Not-Lucian returned. 'Don't do that again.'
He nodded shakily, completely terrified now, mentally promising to cooperate.
Not-Lucian laughed.
'You won't. You're a terrified kitten, Luci. It's delicious.'
He felt the gentlest swipe of a claw on his chin before the presence completely vanished. Instantly, Lucian regained control of his head again.
Completely cowed, he focused on devouring his breakfast and asked for three servings of water. When Rosa was convinced enough color had returned to Lucian's face, she spoke.
"Your Majesty, correct me if I'm wrong, but Lord Lucian and I are to go to Sweetwater?" The cheerfulness in her voice broke the tension, and the Queen nodded.
"I reviewed our mortician's profile. Methodical, quiet, and—most importantly—you respect the deceased. Atraeum has been betrayed by flashy miracles before." Her left hand curled into a fist before the Queen forced it to relax. "She needs someone steady and reliable, not a miracle-worker."
At the acknowledgment, Lucian felt pride replacing the terror in his heart.
"Your first task is in Sweetwater Farm. Her lord abandoned the land long ago, but she is still under our protection. A maid named Lira refuses to rest."
He wasn't sure he understood the Queen's words. "You mean she serves an empty house? Until today?"
"Yes," the Queen said gently. "She's still at the farm, folding napkins."
"Folds… napkins?"
"Ask her why, and listen well. That is your first task. Don't put her to rest unless she asks. And if she does…" Marguerite's pale eye met his gray ones. "Don't fail. Understand?"
Lucian emptied his goblet and nodded. "I do."
Beside him, his Grimoire opened and wrote on a fresh page.
[GRIMOIRE ENTRY – FIRST ASSIGNMENT: SWEETWATER FARM]
- Key Figure: Lira, undead maid. Soul-stable, duty-bound
- Status: Resistant
- Task: Observe. Converse. Wait.
- Note:
- Do NOT force her to rest
- Do not damage the well
Oh thank god. I wouldn't have remembered all that, Lucian thought gratefully.
"Good," the Queen said—so coldly, Lucian could almost see frost clinging to her shoulders. The difference between breakfast and business Marguerite was jarring, but he understood. If he, a mortician, established boundaries, what more a queen?
"Rosa will prepare the carriage. Take care on your way."
Lucian stood and reached for his Grimoire, which slowly closed itself beside his plate. The last sentence on the page had been written in scarlet ink:
Your first test is to listen, not to bury.
Rosa said nothing until the castle door had closed behind them. "Lord Lucian… that place listens to you too. Don't let them get to you." She shuddered. "Not everything deserves your attention."
Maybe that's what Elwynne's note meant, he thought. Especially that thing in the chandelier.
He nodded slowly. For the first time, this job required him to consider supernatural angles as well. "You're right. I shouldn't expect every spirit to be kind and welcoming to a newbie."
Rosa's blonde curls bounced, pleased that she could advise the lord mortician. "Especially the tricksters. Right. Well…what else do I know about Sweetwater…?"
Lucian idly wondered if steering conversation was part of a maid's duties, because the way she did it felt so…natural.
"It's peaceful…but not quiet." Rosa murmured. She reached into her apron pocket and handed him a tiny bottle of brandy.
The mortician gave her a weary look. "Really?"
Rosa giggled and the bottle returned to her apron. "Just kidding. We can celebrate your success afterward. Shall we get on the carriage?"
"Well I—" his thought was cut off when he felt hot air on top of his head. Lucian looked up and into the dark nostrils of a jet-black horse with even darker eyes. It clomped on the dirt with one of its sleek hooves. Then the horse threw its head back to reveal a fiery mane.
Lucian gave the animal a wary look, then climbed into the carriage with Rosa. Behind them, the castle door groaned shut, keeping the cold away.
Deep within Lucian's coat pocket, his Grimoire slumbered. If the mortician had pulled it out at that instant, he would have seen the following page:
[GRIMOIRE UPDATE - PASSIVE ALERT]
A presence has noticed you.
Threat level: No current threat detected.
Observation level: Low
Emotional signature: Curious/Mocking/Ancient
Note: Additional data needed to properly analyze. Incredibly interested in Lucian Bowcott's fear.
In the Queen's study, Marguerite read a piece of parchment.
Additional Note: Mortician's soul displays high emotional yield.
Recommended Classification: Sweet.
I will continue to observe this one.
Your ever-loyal Spymaster.
The left side of her face looked sad and tired, but her empty eye socket blazed with obedient blue fire. She removed her right glove and used her ring to approve the Spymaster's note.
Above her swayed a silver chandelier, its ruby eyes blinking slowly, like a satisfied cat.