“It was – bad,” Eric said lamely, not wanting to lie and yet unable to give her the truth of it. The gore of it, the blood, the screaming, the smell, yes all of that but also standing up there knowing that all eyes were watching him for a reaction. Waiting to see if he, too, was a traitor and soon to follow on the block. The memory of it would stay with him for years. “Ruben spoke to me, afterwards. He was as kind as being King would allow, I think. I’m Earl now.”
“Congratulations, My Lord, on your inheritance of enormous debts.” Petra made a most unladylike noise. It wasn’t even that funny but it set the both of them off, with stifled giggles echoing around the empty hallway as they leaned into each other as if they were still children. It was difficult to say which of their positions were worse: Eric, who was expected to run a neglected earldom he hadn’t been allowed to have an opinion on for the last five years, or Petrella who owned nothing but at least also owed nothing.
Even though Eric tried to persuade Petra to come back with him to Ix’s, she declined. It wasn’t the right time to push so he left it alone but he would have to keep an eye on her, perhaps suggest she take one or two visitors at Aunt Geraldine’s. She hadn’t seen their friends in weeks now.
Eric’s list of things to worry about only continued to get longer when he dropped by the estate managers. Williams & Sons, who had managed their estate ever since it had just been Roger Williams the elder, had clearly been expecting him to turn up at some point, dressed in strict black for mourning.
The subsequent meeting hollowed Eric out. He’d thought he was prepared, he’d been trained since birth for eventually taking over the estate. He’d learned about their tenants, their villages, their taxes, their crops, the ins and outs as any dutiful heir should, but all his knowledge was years out of date.
Roger had a stack of paperwork carefully prepared for him to read through and get himself up to date. He appreciated it, but it meant he didn’t even get to stop thinking about it after he left their offices. On top of that, the sanction details hadn’t even arrived from the court yet and they would have to recalculate again once they did. There would be no funeral costs at least, not for a traitor, but Ned Williams the Younger did regretfully inform Eric that he would likely be charged for the disposal of the body.
By the time he got back to the New Palace, Eric’s head was buzzing with legalities and what-ifs. Even though it was only lunchtime, he lay down with a warm cloth over his eyes to try and soothe the headache.
When he awoke, the the sky was dark already. Eric groaned. He had to stop with the erratic napping, it was throwing his sleeping patterns into disarray. He looked at himself for just long enough to try and fluff up the crushed curls on the side of his head he’d slept on, then gave up and went to find Ix.
Ix’s rooms were usually never this quiet at this time of day, especially in the winter. When it was too cold to be outside, Ix was almost always hosting something into the evenings, even if it was just a small group for dice and conversation. But Eric hadn’t heard any voices or footsteps down the corridor. Had he gone out? Eric struggled to think of a time when Ix had gone somewhere and not invited him at least. That probably said something about much time he spent in Ixthan’s company, but he didn’t have enough energy to unpick that thought right now.
“Ix?” asked Eric.
“In here,” called Ix in what Eric considered his sulking voice.
“What’s wrong?” All of Eric’s instincts were suddenly on edge. When he walked in, Ix was on the sofa, behind a stack of books that had not been there this morning.
“The Magisterium is useless, as predicted. No theory I have not already thought of myself and no suggestions as to how to reverse it. And I cannot even discuss the books I’ve obtained outside of the library with them,” Ix said.
Eric was suddenly paying attention. Ix had mentioned it before, briefly, too briefly for Eric to take notice but he should have. The texts on the demonic in the palace library had to be approved by the Magisterium. If Ix had been getting unknown books from elsewhere… hells, no wonder something went wrong. He could have been following the path of some smuggled volume from the Continent or black-market pamphlet incoherently written by some possessed madman.
Ix looked up from his tome and Eric struggled to keep his horror off his face. “You look vile. How’s Petrella?”
“I feel awful. Petra feels awful. And you also feel awful, it seems. We’re a good match for company,” said Eric as he threw himself down onto the sofa.
“How dramatic of you.” There was no sympathy to be had from Ix, which was refreshing actually. It felt normal, as normal as Eric’s life could be right now. And it was much better than Eric’s worst fear, which would have been Ix pretending that this morning had never happened and throwing Eric out of his rooms instead.
Eric decided to push his luck, listing sidewards until he could rest his head on Ix’s shoulder. From the look Ix gave him, it hadn’t been as subtle a move as he’d hoped, but he brushed his hair out of the way so it would be more comfortable for Eric anyway.
“My swords are gone,” said Eric to distract Ix. “Probably already pawned.”
Eric felt Ix’s shoulders stiffen under him. “How dare they?”
“I’ve been told there is a receipt of everything taken, somewhere in here. At least the paperwork is thorough,” Ericfeebly lifted the flap of his satchel to show the pile of various contracts, documents and letters from Roger he still had to read through.
“When will you be moving back into the house?”
“Ah.” Eric closed his eyes. “About that. I don’t know if we will be. I might have to ask Aunt Gerry about moving into her townhouse as well. Or maybe we’ll move back to the country. It’ll be easier to oversee the estate from there.”
“Is it the neighbors?” Ix scowled, as if he might march over and punch some busybodies.
While Eric appreciated the sentiment, he had to shake his head. Shame knotted in his chest, a tangibly solid lump that Eric had trouble breathing around. He’d skirted around it, but it felt uncouth to discuss money matters, embarrassing to admit they would be struggling. He willed himself to speak plainly, or Ix would never understand.
“It’s debtors. And the—” He couldn’t say ‘the King’s sanctions’ out loud, that was Ix’sfather, “–the fines. And the estate’s not in great shape either, I need to investigate more but it doesn’t look good. Father was doing something with the farmers to get more money out of them. And I need to make sure Petra’s all right too, I know she’ll want a match in the next year or two.” Eric sank his head into his hands.
“Oh. How boring, you need money,” said Ix. Easy for him to say. “How much?”
“What! No,” Eric protested immediately. “You can’t just give me money.”
Not least because the implications of the Demon Prince spending money on solving the debts of a traitor to the Crown were terrible.
“So what, you sell the manor?” said Ix critically.
