Oath of Steel

28 |A Word of Advice|

Rare had been the times since the 1st and 4th Apostle had taken walks together alone, with no entourage following them, ready to jump in the middle at their beck and call. And even less had been the times when Rosalynde hadn't felt watched with a thousand of judging eyes picking on every contained gesture, on every concealed detail.

But that mattered not when she had the pleasure of keeping company to the man directly reporting under the Crown.

There always had been a silent agreement between them. A compound reminder of mutual interests. She would have done nothing against him, and he would have aided her both outside and inside the Imperial Citadel until adulthood; that had been their first deal.

Deal which had naturally shifted as she'd reached the subtle age of twenty, when Lord Regulus had finally ended the one-sided patronage between her and Brek Haywire, leaving her under Pharah as only reporting guardian.

"I wonder if you know where Her Highness is?" Rosalynde held back a bitter laugh at his question, shrugging in reply.

A low resigned sigh escaped his lips, chapped thanks to the cold of the outside winds. He passed a hand in between his short, well-combed silvery hair, frustration mixed with what Rosalynde could guess as lack of rest seeping out of every single pore.

"Has her Majesty summoned you again at the brink of dawn?" Rosalynde asked cautiously after they turned into another corridor, the main staircase coming into view.

"Indeed, it seems like the constructions of the railway isn't going as planned," he replied without missing a beat.

"That's the reason behind the foul mood of her majesty," she replied without doubt. Earning a subtle nod from the 1st Apostle and trusted minister to the Empress herself.

He'd always been honest with her, even on the journey towards the Imperial Citadel after the massacre of her parents – or at least of her mother, so it seemed.

That was the reason behind her use of the loving and docile white lies with him, the same kind that children loved inventing and twisting lightly to their parents and friends to stay out of trouble. And deep down, she knew he knew it, too.

"Is there a problem with the payments?" She couldn't curb her need for knowledge, her desire for both idiotic and overpowering truths.

"No, Grey's been playing his part egregiously actually," he then lowered his voice, leaning close to her hear as he gifted words for only her ears.

"Anything new to report about our fairly old common accident?" He was talking about the Opera, and taking into consideration she still hadn't informed him about Verity yet – by that reasoning, which had to be the only reason behind his question.

"I've been following closely what seems like a pretty promising lead," she assured him.

They halted in front of the staircase, his slightly curved backed, fully in few against the light of the chandeliers hanging over their heads. He turned around, squaring her from head to toe before subtly nodding.

Extreme gratification was what Rosalynde felt as he did calmly nod his head, the flame of recognition making its way inside her body, burning her bones and blood as a drop of holy water. They'd always had this sort of respect, this undying mutual respect they both seemed to hold dear to each other, ever since their first meeting, during their journey towards Lowen – and in particular, the Imperial Citadel.

They hadn't spoken for the first few days while riding back, with Rosalynde's minute and malnourished body standing at crosswords, a junction between the land of living and the one of eternal rest. She remembered him stopping quite a few times, paying all innkeepers an extra gold to have them forget about their stay. It was funny at first, even if funny probably wasn't even the right word to use in that context.