Chương 162: Chapter 183: Plea

So my goddamned brother has me standing in front of the police and a hundred eagerly gossipping witnesses at the crime scene where the royal princess died, a crime I've been repeatedly suspected of and accused of. And because everyone is here on the forged invitations he sent in my name, this whole scene looks like the most dramatic criminal confession ever. And that's a lot more than they need, criminal prosecution here is just as twisted and partisan as everything else, as I've learned to my detriment years ago.

Relying on the rules is a mistake, and relying on the justice system to pursue justice is a trap. This setting does not have a Fifth Amendment, but it does have a lot of leeway and privilege for the upper nobility, and that's what I'm leaning into right now. I stand with regal posture, holding the Guard lieutenant's eyes directly, with my House colors displayed like a living flag.

His eyes dart downwards- but not to my cleavage, rather to my necklace pendant at my collarbone: the grapefruit picked out in gold, and tiny rubies and citrines. The tiny reminder I wear at all times of how Freckentop wronged me and how my grudge was earned. Under the circumstances, I'd rather he was checking out my chest. When he looked back at my eyes, I am sure he could see the screams of rage I was bottling up, barely out of sight.

This is a very bad time for me to make an impression of being extremely angry in general and especially angry directly at the royal house. I'm doing a poor job of hiding both. And that just gave a target for the investigating officer to poke at.

"So you're going to tell me that you have nothing to say by way of explanation here?" the guard lieutenant demanded, keeping his threat in his voice. He did not advance on me or gesture, he could ill-afford to have anyone here see him threatening me so he kept his voice down and tried to put it in his tone alone, trusting the bustle and rumble of working guards and chattering crowds to cover his voice.

Also, I think he could tell that I was inches away from losing my temper in a terrible way, and all these witnesses would be cold comfort if he died instantly. I was almost mad enough to just do it.

"No," I said calmly. I fought for that calm, I bit down on my own emotions and wrestled them to keep my voice steady and uninflected. I can't stop my face from showing all this emotion, but I can try to modulate my voice at least.

"No, as in you're going to explain, or no you're not going to explain?" he demanded in a matching tone, an incongruously conversational voice. I think his question just highlights that he's not asking the right kind of questions at all, really. If my answer could mean yes or no, you're not thinking through your words. But that's a conversation for another time. I sighed, forcing myself to settle down. I needed to work past this anger, not just keep myself from acting on it.

I concentrated on the words, tried to ignore context and events.

"To repeat: I don't think so. I may change my mind." He glowered a little more.

"You're still listed as a person of interest in this case. I can upgrade you to a suspect just like that," he said, and mimed snapping his fingers. But here's the thing: there is literally nothing that materially links me to this case, and there never was. They'll never establish that I put Skeici and Lachel in proximity. They can argue about motive and suspicion, but that's all they'll have. And you can't convict a duke's daughter with ' maybe she was involved in some way we can't prove'.

Not when she's in the good books for so many different Houses. If I can get eight of the House leaders to support my case over the accusations, I'm clear for sure. I'm pretty confident about six of them, right now without checking. And weirdly, this is helping me master my temper. Reminding myself that the consequences here actually aren't that bad is pushing me past my feelings. I held his gaze.

I was really starting to feel the capybara now, with this guy here to distract me from my rage and fear and second helpings of rage.

"Is your captain on his way or have you managed not to let him know yet?"

"Oh, you think you'll have more luck with my captain?" he challenged me.

"Going to call your highborn friends to bail you out?" Ah. He's decided it's a little safer to provoke me. Funny thing is, this actually helped pull me out of my inner storm even more. His posturing reminded me that my problems are just as surmountable as this overreaching prat. I could let my contempt for him water down my heated anger. And on my expression, I let just a small lift of my facial muscles indicate a sardonic, knowing grin. Just enough that doubt and insecurity stabbed through him like a lance.

We're fighting with insinuations now- I hinted that his case is weak against pressure from his superiors, and he has all but confirmed that. And that tells me where to put pressure, and he can see that I'm going to do that. On the turn of a card, my confidence is returning. He glared.

"Lady Harigold, I'm going to ask you to join your guests on the other side of the dividing line. We will be requiring a witness statement from you and a deposition of what you have seen and heard or what you claim to have seen and heard," and he gestured me away. I lifted my skirts an inch with a couple of pinches, and walked away with my dignity flavored with a bit of cockiness. Now I just need to figure out what the fuck happened and what the fuck I'm going to do about it.

A city guardsman at the border lifted the rope barrier for me to duck under. As soon as I was through, a host of friends, acquaintances and familiar faces were buzzing with questions, all wanting me to tell them what was happening.

"My lady, is that real?"

"My lady, that was so horrible!"

"Princess, I feel this was most improper!"

"Lady Natalie, are you doing this to show up the royals?"

"Lady Natalie, is this a peace offering to the royals?"

"Lady Harigold, this must be a mistake!"

"Lady Harigold, are you all right?" And then Rabert Frantlin melted out of the crowd like some kind of special effect, and stood close, almost like Yheta.

"Princess Natalie, what a brilliant move on your part!" he said, giving me the just follow me with this eyes.

"I must say the timing felt a little opportunistic, seizing the moment ahead of Fashion Week, I expected you'd be more circumspect!" The funny thing was that he did not raise his voice to be overheard 'by accident' but somehow it still seemed to reach farther and come through clearer than it should. I see. We are putting on a performance. Very well. I had to let the capybara essence go for a minute so I could channel lightning into my mind and think really, really fast. I need an out-of-the-box solution right now.

Ah. That'll do.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lord Frantlin," I said coolly.

"This was meant to be the first step in the scavenger hunt. Did nobody find the clue to the next location?" I can't channel serpent right now, I haven't already connected that essence today and I don't want anyone to see me casting new spells right before I explain what's going on. So this is not going to be a convincing lie, but I can at least cast enough doubt...

"Clue? Location?" someone asked from nearby.

"Nobody looked in the mailbox?" I asked with blandly affected innocence. I put out my hand, and a recently-conjured piece of folded paper came flying out of the mailbox and fluttered against the wind until it landed in my hand.

"This was supposed to lead everyone to the park. Why, what is it that has happened? The guardsmen had all sorts of accusations but they did not explain anything at all." I know I looked shady and insincere. I just can't say things like that unassisted. But my hope here is that it looks like I'm lying about the wrong things. Like I did know this was happening, and I did want lots of attention, and this timing, and this outcome... but that I wasn't willing to admit it and take credit for it.

Frantlin laughed knowingly at this, a very"ah I see your game" kind of laugh. He's really very good at layered communication in that way. And [The Ruthless] is coming to my rescue right now.

"Well, Lady Harigold, nobody found your letter, they assumed you meant them to enter. And within, behind a couple of doors, is part of the dead body of the late Princess Lachel Freckentop, along with some identifying items and, ahem, signs of captivity."" Part of the de- " I stopped, frozen. Horrified. Oh shit. That was gruesome. This wasn't supposed to be gory and disgusting, this was supposed to be a body preserved at near-freezing temperatures, drowned and unmarked!

I had been freaking out when I thought they saw a presentable corpse. If the reality is worse?... I clapped a hand to my mouth, unable to keep the shock off my eyes. Rabert is here with the save.

"Oh, shit, did you not know the condition-?" he broke off, watching my face.

"Ah, I think maybe I'd better not say anything else until we're in confidence," he said, as if just now noticing that dozens of people are listening in and passing the message back to those too far to hear. That moment of naked dismay probably helped my case more than anything.

"I think that's best," I say, shakily. I don't have to pretend to be shocked anymore. Shit. Shit. Nathan found this and thought it was me. He found his dead and dismembered girlfriend and thought I had murdered her. He sent everyone here to find his murdered girlfriend and set it up to look like I was confessing to the crime.

And meanwhile, right this moment, he's back at his home in Meadwhite, enjoying his sixteenth birthday party, probably toasting many happy returns, as if he has not stabbed me from spine to sternum in front of the whole of Hearstcliff. For a single second I am consumed with incandescent wrath, and then I call for the capybara's calm, and the element of water. Maybe it only submerges my feelings, but right now that's what I need. I'll dig them up later and do damage control.

Honestly, the main thing that displaces the anger is that I am still washed in fear and surprise right now. I can't seem to hold any one emotion single-mindedly right now. The capybara is not the miracle cure I had been hoping for. Not against emotions like this. I want to run into a quiet room and lock it shut from the inside and spend three weeks not thinking about this, but instead I'm going to need to focus up and get ahead of the narrative. I need for my story to be the story.

If I don't, if I let other people spin this, I will definitely not have any houses backing my play when this goes to trial. And I've got no illusions this isn't going to trial. Shit, first that magister last week and now this. Hell of a one-two punch. Nathan's really fucked me over this time. Cold wind blowing on my cheeks was not as welcome as it was ten minutes ago. I warmed the air around us so the night was not so miserable, because I did not feel like conjuring a coat for myself.

I habitually conserve mana these days, reaching for spells that are already cast rather than invoking a new essence. The noise of the crowd was sifting back and forth like tides, not that any of these people knew what those are. I faced away from the group and back at the crime scene, clasping my arms around me.

"Gods dammit! Why couldn't they just take the deal!"

"Deal, my lady?" said a fawning voice from my side, and I glanced over to a face I vaguely recognized, an Aumerje functionary, I think from the merchant side of the family. Someone I could count on to try to schmooze for respect and leverage.

"Yes, my lord," I sighed.

"Some months back, when she first disappeared, the royals asked that I tell them where to find their daughter. I told them I would agree with a condition: they come clean about their role in the Blight and their connection to the Cachexia. They would have to acknowledge the veracity of my visions and the truth of my accusations. They refused. And now everyone knows anyway... and they've lost their daughter. She was alive when I offered that deal, you know. She could have been saved.

I wanted to do everything I could, but I needed to save the people of Meadowtam first!" He blinked.

"But you hated the princess-" I sighed heavily.

"People keep saying that. I never hated her. Well, sorry, I did a little bit after that conversation about how easy it is to manipulate me. But not for long. She was a sweet girl, she really was, when you get to know her. And I tried so hard to avoid having it end like this!" I gestured, and could not hide my upset. If you can't be deceptive, be vague. He scuttled off to find someone that would put in a good word for him in exchange for what I'd said.

There's always a few of those around, the opportunists with just enough pull to get in the door, and looking for any coattails that can carry them through the next set of doors. Gossips, favor-traders, promises of promises, always fantasizing that they'll be a real powerbroker someday, kingmakers in the making. Once you learn to identify them, they're a great resource. I try to never deal with them directly, but if you need a crumb snatched, drop it in the right place.

And I need stories to propagate, I need people to hear corroborating evidence of my narrative from multiple sources. Build a big story, break it into pieces that support each other, and send it out on different boats, and trust that when people start assembling the pieces they'll discover the story they thought you wanted to hide. They always trust their own cleverness more than your honesty.

That's how you get a dozen people with rock-solid conviction in your story who go around and boast about it to everyone that will hold still, but who have no connection to you at all. I'm off to a good start. I just need to make myself the hero of this disaster. It's not just that I'm connected to Lachel's murder, again, it's that this is the big event everyone is going to carry with them directly into Fashion Week, the strategy council of the aristocracy and the intrigue class.

And this thing is fucking up my birthday party. I'm supposed to be celebrating. This was supposed to be the weekend that I was allowed to unapologetically make everything all about me, just as we are coming into The Big One. And instead the narrative is about the dead Freckentop girl and the constant suspicions that are laid at my feet. I find space and quiet for a few seconds, and I channel serpent into my essence. I'm going to need more than a peacock's charisma.

This is serious and I can't let my famously-transparent face handicap me here. I'm not going to push it, I intend to stay as honest as I can allow myself, but I don't want to take a chance that a random facial tic is going to screw me out of my freedom. I can't lose another three years, the world will be doomed for sure. Trazom appeared at my elbow.

The crowd was rather packed here, all the people I had expected to fill a full dance hall were now crowded into a rubbernecking throng that wanted to have the best seats to the scandal. It was at its thickest near the fenceline where they could see the building best, and near me where they could pepper me with pestering questions. I was standing near the rope fence, so even The Famous himself had to work hard to reach me.

"Are you all right?" he asked when he got through. Rabert had finished fading away, lost in the crowd now. I got his hand in mine, and I was surprised at how much steadier I felt. Trazom has a solidity to his presence, he's very certain of himself and very certain of the world. It can be helpful in certain occasions, just to let myself get pulled into his energy and borrow that stability. Not many of my love interests can do that for me. Rabert, Thumper, Yheta, Tiviti, Kimothy...

none of them are very grounding in that way that I need sometimes. But unfortunately, my emotional grounding is not a high priority right now, as much as I might like it to be.

"I'm good," I said, "thanks for asking. You remember that I reserved the August Address, right?"

"I do recall you mentioning that," he said.

"I thought that would be in Cliffside, so I was surprised when the carriage brought us to this place. But, the address, the invitation..."

"Yes, I know," I sighed.

"I was hoping maybe you could mingle a little, and help people understand that this really was not supposed to be how this night would go." He gave my hand a squeeze and moved off to apply his remarkable renown and respect to rehabilitating my reputation. I turned my attention to the investigation. The guards were tearing this building to pieces, ripping out the walls and ceiling to find any material clue, any sign of what had happened here, any trace that could determine who had done this.

I've already seen this play out, Honestly, it's kind of weird to see the people from that cutscene in motion instead of just shuffling in place. Though, usually the "guards finding the murder scene" graphic does not have a backdrop of all of the city's titled nobles, high officials, power brokers, influence peddlers and gossip mongers. Ultimately it's still the same scene and I already know they're not going to find anything.

But, this is probably the end of Skeici's usefulness, if she does not have a place that she can hide a captive away from prying eyes already prepared she probably won't be able to take any more targets out for me. Still, not everything goes the way I expect. Sometimes, the variables that I have introduced can alter the outcome of a scene. Now, nothing I've done is going to change the fact that Skeici knows how to keep a clean crime scene and allow nothing to trace back to her.

Or the fact that the scene that prompts her to give away a vital clue is not due for two more years, during the Upheaval. But the variables I have introduced largely have to do with the official government response to the discovery of Princess Lachel's ghoulishly-displayed remains. Which, obviously, has to be a huge deal. It's not just the remains. Or the timing. It's that this party had invited everyone that matters at all in the eyes of Vobel and Czoverenne Freckentop.

And they were here, staring at the inept and incapable investigation by the king's secret police, months too late. I heard horses, trotting. But the sound was odd, they trotted in formation. Every horse in the group had the same gait, hooves striking together. Not like horses walking to get somewhere, these were parade horses. And a wagon, creaking. Curious, I floated up enough to see what was approaching. I lifted up and peered over the heads of all the crowd, pushing well down the street.

I could see a dozen of the Cavalry Guard. But not the plainclothes division, those were already here, this was the ceremonial parade division. They sparkled, and their clothes were impossibly perfect. Their white horses moved in perfect synchrony and the guards themselves seemed to be chosen for their resemblance, so that purely human difference would not spoil their symmetry. They had halberds at rest, butts fitted to the socket on their stirrups.

This was the most official delegation that the royals could possibly send other than arriving in person with full retinue and honors. And behind them were two oxen who ambled along, dragging a wagon. A familiar wagon, it had cage bars on all four sides and the roof. The same wagon that had brought me to Hearstcliff, years ago, the first time I stood trial. Sweat burst out across my forehead, my mouth went dry. Oh, it's like that. They were not pulling any punches or restraining themselves at all. This was war.

My grin was incredulous, equal parts terror and disbelief and pleasant surprise.

"Oh, you idiots," I breathed, staring at this procession. It really makes sense I suppose. I've been pushing them harder every week, more aggressively, never backing down no matter how many times I've been warned. In their eyes, I'm forcing them to escalate. And they have to know this is going to blow up in their faces. Now I've got about ninety seconds, and I summoned back the peacock. I needed to be my most dazzling now. I grasped Trazom's arm, both hands. He turned from the horses to me, staring.

He was scared, he thought I was in trouble. It was touching, really.

"Enefiat, I'm going to need your help. Talk to these people, plead my case." He nodded, promising me silently. I flew again, lifting, bringing myself around between the crowd and the crime scene, the center of attention. Not high enough to be immodest or distracting, but high enough that I was speaking from a stage. I swept across the assembled partygoers, all dressed for anything but an exhumation. I made eye contact, picking out people.

"Months ago I told the royals that I could tell them where their daughter was, if they would admit their role in the Meadowtam blight," I spoke out, my voice ringing strong and carrying over all else.

"She could have been saved but they chose her death as the price they paid not to confess their crimes. Now that their complicity is known, there was no more reason for me to keep these secrets. She was here, all along, in the city. Only one opened door or broken window away. Count Tylie Ebonder, if your daughter was missing would you rest until she was found?"

"Fuck no," said the famously rough-spoken count.

"Baroness Verta, would you have gone house-to-house for your daughter?"

"No stone unturned," bristled the famously principled baroness. Her fists were clenched and her eyes were glinting.

"I think Verta would have gone to war, let alone searching a few miles of empty buildings," I chuckled, but the strain on me still showed.

"For them, a full week of feigned mourning to hide their alliance with necromancers. Sacrificing their honor as well as their own flesh and blood, because the alternative was to tell the truth. And now we will see that they are willing to go even further to silence anyone who wants justice for Meadowtam." As I spoke I raised my voice with each sentence, not only to escalate the message, but because it was getting progressively louder here. The horses clashed to a stop, coming to rest.

The foremost Cavalry Guard swung down off of her horse, and stood at a position of attention with her halberd at her side.

"Natalie Harigold. You are hereby placed under arrest by the authority of the crown and the throne. You are hereby stripped of honors. You are ordered now to surrender yourself and cooperate with the officers of the kingdom and the courts and to provide answers and confessions. These orders are effective immediately." Her second-in-command stepped to her side, bearing a pair of rune-scribed shackles instead of his halberd. This is my god damn sixteenth birthday party.

I'm going to kick Nathan's ass so hard for this.