Page 8 of Sharpen Your Claws

At least he had been home to attend Richard and Eleanor’s wedding. Eleanor wouldn’t be joining them. She was resting very pregnant at home, more than content to be tucked in bed rather than waddling around a party, as she so eloquently put it the other evening.

Comparatively, Charmaine stood stiff as a board, hating the uniform more than William. Ever since she and her mother opened the Gilded Lily, a clothing boutique in town, she took to wearing dresses and skirts. She kept her natural hair shaved, preferring to wear wigs her mother tended for her and learned a plethora of new makeup techniques. Charmaine worked in the back of the store to avoid potentially problematic customers, but she was happier than ever.

Alas, peace abandoned them. They were a rotting mess together, wishing for nothing more than to escape the confines of their past. Without make up, the scars along Charmaine’s cheekbones stood out, a paled brown. She wore gloves, like him, to conceal the scars along her fingertips where claws once ripped the skin.

“Let us get this night over with,” Robert said, sensing the tension in the air but knowing there was nothing that would truly disperse it.

Together, they crowded into the waiting carriage outside.

The city of Alogan had stories too ancient to remember. Artifacts rose from the soil, pointed as accusatory fingers, interwoven between brick buildings. The great city built by ancestors long forgotten fell and no one knew why. Historians argued over the specifics, if it was users of the Sight before the world understood this power that led to a civilization ending catastrophe or an unfortunate natural disaster. Since the Collision, historians considered a realm bumping into Terra that sent the world into a spiral. Regardless, Alogan rebuilt, but William imagined the issues had never changed over the centuries.

Concealed by the exuberant shops and steeples, lived the truth few admitted to. Down by the warehouses spitting smog, presided another city called the outer banks, the true forgotten of Alogan. They slept in tents and sucked on bones. They filled the workhouses and survived off scraps, many of whom saved Alogan from a second destruction.

Over the years, he pondered if the city deserved the first end and should have stayed that way. Fearworn could have wiped Alogan off the map, ending the Ellis family line, who sat on their thrones spewing tales of victory while those who brought that victory died. Not just on the battlefront, but cowering on the city streets they were forced to protect.

The Vandervult estate didn’t sit far from the streets of Alogan. A stretch of trees led them to the brightened roadways where stores closed shop for the night. The buildings hugged one another, rarely separated by alleys and artifacts, as if the city sought warmth from the neighbors. Stone structures, once believed to be columns, erupted from the soil. Lamplight cast the world in a low orange glow, illuminating the silhouettes of inhabitants meandering the streets.

The carriage passed his favorite book store where old tomes cluttered the windows and the sign swung in the evening breeze. At the next turn, Charmaine’s favorite pastry shop, where she grabbed breakfast, stood out with its pink painted exterior. The further into the city they went, the more the landscape changed from shops and run down residences to upscale homes with their gated yards and high steeples. The castle painted the horizon in harsh white stone, looming from the heart of the city. Ladies in puffy dresses and men in top hats gathered in their carriages to join the celebration.

“We won’t stay long,” Robert explained. “After the royals and fae lords are announced, there may be a speech or two. We’ll greet His Majesty, then take our leave.”

“Don’t forget, we will speak to the king concerning William’s missing patients, too,” Richard said.

He tapped the satchel containing all he and Charmaine had collected. He didn’t have the manpower to offer more. He could hardly leave the clinic for long, considering he was the only on-call doctor. Others donated their time occasionally, but they had businesses to run so they weren’t too reliable. He couldn’t ask them to tend to his clinic while he searched the streets for a kidnapper, either.

Robert sighed, as if reminding himself his sons weren’t teenagers he could chastise. “You’re a force to be reckoned with, Richard, but we both know how the king will feel about this.”

“He cannot ignore us in a room full of guests,” William countered, although a sweat had taken him since the moment they departed.

“But he can insist on seeking an audience in private another day, and that day will never come,” Robert countered.

“You say that, and yet, you fight against him. You’ve convinced him to fund our clinics.”

Robert clenched the head of his cane. William didn’t mean to remind his father of how he was sent to war in the first place. He worried bringing up the war or anything he went through would hurt Robert all the more, so he chose not to say anything, but the damage had been done.

Robert heaved a long breath through his nostrils. “His Majesty does what he believes will make him look best. When you inform him that the homeless are going missing, he will be pleased. Most people don’t care about the less fortunate. In fact, they are often glad to be rid of them.”

Robert brushed the curtains aside. They passed through the iron gates warded by roaring lions carved from granite. Rumors claimed the lions would rise and protect their king should unwelcome visitors pass, gifted to the Ellis family by fae upon the signing of the Collision Treaty. Rumors also said they would slay the royals one day so fae could take their place, but William had been around enough fae to know they didn’t care about mortal royalty.

“This isn’t a few people. We’ve counted seven in the last two months. There is darkness in this city. We must get to the bottom of it,” William countered as the carriage slowed behind the procession.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but I am saying His Majesty isn’t the route to take,” Robert said.

Richard settled a hand on their father’s shoulder. “There is no need to worry. We have a plan.”

That would hopefully work. William itched his left arm. His right, the silver monstrosity, never itched, but it felt pain. Of course, fae would ensure that.

“I suppose there is nothing wrong with trying, but please don’t take offense if his answer isn’t what you hoped for,” Robert said.

William didn’t hope for much. If the king acknowledged their request, that may be enough. The authorities could get involved. Even if they weren’t dedicated to the cause, extra eyes and ears on the streets would work wonders.

The carriage came to a halt, and the door opened. Robert stepped into the golden light followed by Richard, who earned the crowd’s attention. Guests called out to him requesting his ear this evening. Richard laughed, saying his hellos and greetings while William and Charmaine shuffled along at his back.

Lanterns hung from strings tied around towering columns lining the stairwell. Visitors whispering to one another over the grandeur passed the double doors into the palace. William cursed every step, wishing the mortar would crack beneath his feet.

Inside, a floral scent overwhelmed his senses. He wished to gag and spit across the immaculate marble floor shined so well it reflected the guest’s silhouettes. Butlers dressed in finely tailored black suits, faces disguised by indistinguishable white masks, guided the guests.

Guests filtered into the adjoining room, a long ballroom decorated in yellow draped silks. Chandeliers hung low, glittering in silver and gold. Fae and mortals alike filled the ballroom, though none could deny the separation. Fae flocked together along the opposite end of the room by the double staircase leading to the balcony on the second floor. The kings and fae lords would descend from there.

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