Violet Shadows

30

"Those people..." Eric said, the drawl of his syllabus trailing to a damp pocket on his jacket. All of their eyes instinctively followed it as he pulled something out. "They left this behind."

Christine's eyes reserved an odd, coated steel pin lost of it's part that clipped it together. It was shaped into delicate whorls embossed with a single flower and four long shafts splitting from the buds, two shorter than the others. A densely stained marking alongside the shafts made it appear more ancient, like a piece of history that had lost meaning and memory, withering over the years in isolation.

"That's an interesting pin," Nicol said, side-glancing at Christine to see if she recognized the pin.

She did not. "It looks like a mushroom."

With that, Eric offered the pin to Henri, who clipped the pin back in his pocket. "I'll look further into this," Henri decided. "We should check to see if the other guests recognized our attackers. Maybe this will help, and it wouldn't hurt to gain some intel on Mr. Solamaand if it was directed towards him. And if not, we'll gain some leverage with our help."

Either outcome further helped their position. It was a set plan, and Christine nearly left to join the rest of them until Nicol pulled at her drenched sleeve, a silent request to stay behind. She considered brushing the request aside—she wasn't awake enough to go over business—but it was the frown on his face that rooted her in place.

Frowns were rare enough given the temperament of his demeanor, she almost never caught him without a smile, but the mood of the hours beforehand spilling over it left little room for joy. Or falsities. But Christine knew how he operated, and perhaps there was more that he didn't mention about their treaty. Perhaps he needed her for something else.

Recalling the events of the treaty was enough for that light touch of surprise to surge again. "You know, you didn't need to give Mr. Solamaand those papers even if it was the right thing to do."

Nicol peeled off his gloves. They dripped water as the leather left his golden-brown skin. "So what?"

Christine fought the urge to stop talking. "What I mean is, those papers are your greatest blackmail towards Mr. Solamaand. You—you could've just threatened to release them if he didn't sign the treaty." It was what she expected him to do. "But you gave them to him without much thought. It's... unlike you."

He paused momentarily, jaw tightening a mere fraction. But she saw how heavy that decision really was, how it caused a stir within his mind, even if the action seemed effortless. "We're all just trying to survive, Lady Ducal." He at last answered.

"The Valltore king doesn't see it that way." She tucked a loose strand of her hair out of her face to keep from crossing her arms. Everything about her was meant to be graceful, as if she was born of grace and novelty, threaded with pious dedication, but the words poured out of her were anything but. "He finds it fit to steal other kingdoms and then wonder why so many foreigners are angry. He's the one who forces them into these positions, but then gets surprised when they don't support him."

"Careful," Nicol warned, "Those are dangerous words to mention."

Ah. She realized her mistake far too late. Contemplating, she bit the inside of her cheek but damned herself by asking, "Even if they are true?"

"Even if they are true." He admitted, even at first if it came out a sigh. Nicol kept his disdain hidden within the inner labyrinth of his heart. Hatred, cruelty, disagreement. And this was a scrap of it, a quiet secret not meant to be shared with others.

"Like I said before," She said, the corners of her lips rising in recognition. "You have potential."

"Why are you looking at me like I'm a piece of charcoal about to be pressed into a diamond?" He asked as he drank in her grin. "My intentions weren't all angelic. I thought of using his wife's whereabouts against him. We wouldn't even need to actually contact her. A bit of forgeries would do the trick."