RE: Monarch

I saw her for a flicker in time. One so brief I wasn’t confident I saw her at all. She was younger, to be certain, and the short-cropped brown hair didn’t quite jell with my memories.

My view was obscured as the carriage jostled forward, and I lost sight of her in the crowd.

“Everything alright?” Maya asked.

“Yeah…” I searched between the faces almost frantically before I forced myself to relax. “Thought—thought I saw someone.”

Several attractive people dressed as commoners bearing baskets—too well put together to be actual commoners—pushed forward from the crowd. My hand instinctively crept towards my sword, a reaction that left me feeling foolish as they withdrew fistfuls of blue and white paper and tossed them overhead.

My father’s eyes bore down on me from his elevated position. “You’ve been at war for some time, boy. Don’t bring it home with you.”

“Yes, father.”

“And for gods’ sakes, smile.”

I stared at him, wondering if somewhere between here and the road a changeling had taken his place.

Despite his advice, King Gil’s lips didn’t so much as quirk upwards. “They know nothing about you, save what they’ve nattered amongst themselves: a prince who has been missing for some time, caused great stirrings amongst the demi-humans, related to me. If your intention is to offer them hope for the future, it is best that we contrast our differences.”

That was insightful. Oddly self-aware, considering the source, but good advice nonetheless.

I slipped into the charming, devil-may-care affect that was a staple of my previous life. It took more effort to maintain than I expected, the lazy grin that accompanied it now unfamiliar.

Maya snorted.

Eckor, meanwhile, seemed uncomfortable, transfixed by the crowd. “Why do some look ready to mount and marry us, while the rest would be hard pressed to piss on us if we were on fire?”

I surveyed the crowd. Eckor was mostly correct, though I was realizing the mage was overly negative as a rule. Many of the people towards the front—the confetti throwers and cheerers—looked delighted, while the folk behind them were far more muted and reserved. From the firm-pressed lips and crossed arms, they weren’t angry, exactly—just cautious. The elves, especially, were eying the barred cage behind us that held the drephin prisoner.

“Well. They pay most of the people up front. Either directly or indirectly,” I finally said.

Eckor goggled at me. “One can be paid. To be happy?”

“We are simple creatures, at our core,” Maya chimed in. “Seeing someone delighted at a situation makes us feel as if we should share that feeling, even if we normally wouldn’t. It’s propaganda, though mostly harmless.”

“How would one go about signing up for such a service?” Eckor asked, looking between the two of us.

“Um,” Maya said.

“Your talents likely lay somewhere a little more lucrative, Eckor,” I said. “Soon, you’ll be up to your neck in botany research.”

“I’m always up to my neck, your grace,” Eckor mumbled.

It took some effort to stifle a laugh at the idea of Eckor standing out in the crowd, shouting out unenthusiastic “hurrahs” as he halfheartedly scattered confetti.

Maya craned her neck, taking in the tall stone buildings. “It’s all so tall.” A childlike smile played across her lips. “And sprawling. Like it goes on forever.”

It was a reminder of that initial sense of wonder I’d felt entering the enclave. Sick and addled as I was, it felt like a fever dream.

“There’s so much I can’t wait to show you.” I bumped her shoulder. “The Skyhold, the Wall of Remembrance. Secret passageways in the castle. And that’s just scratching the surface. There’s even a bakery that boasts the best scones in the world.”

“Farington’s.” Melody’s eyes lit up.

“Are they?” Maya asked. “The best in the world?”

“If they aren’t, they’re close,” I said.

“Apologies, my prince. But I can’t let you take up all the emissary’s time.” Melody stuck her chin out. “I already told her of the wall, and we planned to tour it together.”

I gave Maya a wounded look. “How could you?”

“Um—” Maya started, uncharacteristically nervous.

“Fine. A compromise, then. I’ll cede the wall to you, my lady.” I steepled my fingers and leaned forward towards Melody. “But Farington’s is mine.”

Melody crossed her legs, fixed me with an amused stare. “That is agreeable. Tentatively. I cannot help it if our paths lead in that direction, and our sovereign emissary enters of her own accord.”

“You dare—” I cut off mid-sentence.

Up ahead, a tall elf in tattered garb stood on the parade line with a basket, hand plunged into its depths. His expression carried the look of a man who was desperately trying to keep a pot from boiling over. I nearly looked away, then—there was no absence of unhappy faces in the crowd—but something about this elf captured my attention.

Then I spotted her again. A diminutive figure in the crowd that completely arrested my attention.

I never saw the rock coming. Stars exploded behind my eyes as it bounced off my head and clattered to the carriage floor.

“Where’s my fucking wife?” the elf yelled, reaching in the basket and retrieving another rock. All around him the crowd pulled back with cries of alarm. “Where did you bastards take her?” He hurled another rock.

There was a burst of mana from the mage beside King Gil. He didn’t move, or overtly cast—but the rock crumbled to dust before it hit.

Several guards moved through the crowd towards the elf.

I realized a few things at once. The first was that the man didn’t mean any actual harm. He’d thought this through enough that he’d acquired a basket and camouflaged himself, but didn’t bother with magic or a more dangerous projectile. He was desperate, not homicidal. The second was that the quickly advancing guards wouldn’t care. And while I couldn’t do anything about my father parading our subjugated shaman through the streets, I needed to defuse this before the guards took things too far and pissed off every elf in the capital as collateral.

“Keep going. I’ll catch up.”

Before anyone could respond, I leapt from the carriage and landed squarely in front of the elf. He froze midway through drawing another stone from the basket.

“Hi,” I said. The advancing city guard paused on the perimeter of the circle. A drop of blood from the head wound trickled down to just above my eyebrow. I wiped it away.

“… Hello?” The elf said, eyebrows sky-high in terror.

“Prince Cairn, son of Gil, first of his name. I’m guessing you’ve heard of me.” I stuck out my hand.

“Kieran.” the elf said. He raised his hand cautiously, then hesitated, seeming to think better of it.

I grabbed it and shook it warmly with both hands. “Appreciate your aid in testing our defenses, Kieran. These are dark times. One must be vigilant.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the guards back away. Kieran finally relaxed a sliver as they departed, and looked down, shame and surprise warring across his face.

“I… I didn’t mean to strike you, your grace,” he whispered.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve got quite the arm.”

“No one would listen to me. The guards don’t give a shit and I… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m listening. Tell me,” I said.

Kieran peered up at me, cautious. When I said nothing else, he spoke. “My wife, Rania, disappeared around a month ago. She escorted a logging party, guiding them through the less dangerous sections of the Everwood. They returned a week later without her. And she was not the first.”

That was concerning. Especially the last part.

“You reported it?” I asked.

“Yes. But the guards believe the logging party’s account, that my wife fell victim to monsters and perished in the Everwood, despite my argument to the contrary.”

I knew from experience that elves sometimes magically tethered their souls to loved ones to ensure they could find each other in the afterlife. The infernals had a similar practice, one I’d experienced personally, though my impression was that the infernals’ “mingling of souls” represented a far less eternal commitment. My bond with Maya didn’t give me much information on her status, for one, though I suspected it factored into her ability to keep her memories when I talked of the future.

I whispered. “Do you know definitively that Rania’s alive? Are your souls tethered?”

Kieran visibly startled. “How did you—Yes. It’s faint, but I can feel her. She has not yet passed from this plane.”

I glanced back at the carriage, still meandering down the road. “Good—I’m a little busy at the moment, but is there a place I can find you later?”

“You’re… going to help me yourself?” Kieran asked in disbelief.

“I don’t see why not.”

It wasn’t like I was busy. And if he was correct that someone was routinely picking off non-humans in Whitefall, that was entirely my business.

Kieran nodded, his mouth firming, eyes determined. “Okay. Not how I expected this to go, but my thanks. I tend the Rusted Spigot. Can find me there, most nights.”

Naturally I knew it, as it was a tavern in Whitefall. As far as taverns went it was a decent one on the southern edge of Topside, a safe bet for common folk, nobles with machinations of slumming it, and anyone looking to blend in.

I slapped his shoulder, jostling the basket of rocks. “Perfect. I’ll be by tomorrow. You can give me the details over an ale, yes?”

Kieran managed a nod. I left him standing there, mouth slightly open, basket held limply in his hand. And maybe it was my imagination, but the cautious faces that surrounded us looked slightly more friendly than before.

Save one.

So it was her.

I stopped mid-stride. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. She was so much smaller than before. But that cold, analytical gaze filtered through light blue eyes was exactly the same.

Annette curtsied perfectly. “Forgive the sleight, my prince. I’ve been hearing stories about you for some time. We were supposed to wait in the courtyard. But when they told me you were coming, I was curious what kind of person you—”

My sister shrieked as I grabbed her waist and hoisted her into the air.

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