Chapter Twenty

Damn it. Remus sat on the bench to give the Prince his time. He hadn't thought about what Sébastien's Father or any of his family would think about him kissing the son of Giorgio. During the war, such an action would have been practically treason.

They were gone now, and he and the Prince were their own people. Honestly, Remus hadn't even tried to imagine his Father's reaction or thoughts toward such a thing. Their countries weren't at war, so he was rather sure that Giorgio would have trusted his son to make his own decisions if they had met in decent circumstances. Besides that, Remus hadn't specifically done anything to anyone in the Cadieux family.

Honestly, since he'd been enslaved earlier, Giorgio would have a hard time seeing the reason for the shift if he were alive to speak about it. Remus would have to blab private things about the Prince to explain it.

Then again, if he were alive, Calmerra wouldn't have happened, and Remus never would have been sold by his twin to start with.

When he entered the tent, the lanterns were still on. Sébastien, on his side in bed, was propped on his elbow with the blanket drawn up and a book open next to him. His eyes flicked to Remus before going right back to the page.

"Sébastien." Remus gripped the back of the chair.

The Prince didn't look up, and his tone wasn't exactly pleasant. "What?"

"I know a son tends to care about his Father's opinion even if we don't say it, and it seemed like you had a good relationship with your family before. In your eyes, I'm sure they were perfect or pretty close, so going against something big you think they'd expect can feel like a betrayal, and the first time that happens…clashing can feel wrong, but we're our own people."

The prince's eyes drifted back up. "I already had that feeling at age nine. It's not new."

"Huh?"

Sébastien looked away before he flopped back and covered his eyes with one arm. "It's not new. I already clashed with him on something. I never said it because I didn't know how to broach the subject, but maybe he knew."

"What do you mean?"

"He seemed perfect when I was a child. I loved Mother, but I wanted to be like Father, Uncle, and my brothers…"

That was typical of many boys. Remus had looked at Father's qualities as a small boy and decided he wanted to be like that too. He assumed Quintus had felt the same when they were children.

"I didn't question things. We had slaves there, and with children at court, nothing like you saw at the Palace was permitted. They had to be dressed, and I only ever saw them being chastised with words. Honestly, I saw them as servants because I didn't get the difference yet. To me, they were more like personal ones who fetched things or accompanied their owner while dressed in fine things as a show of wealth. When I learned they were criminals, it seemed fair. Commit a crime, and work for someone until you can go. I didn't know what was happening behind closed doors, or get the concept of owning another fairy, so I didn't question or see anything wrong with slavery. To me, it was a way to be useful instead of sitting in a cell."

"Okay."

"I was playing by myself one day and running through the halls. A slave came from a room and fled right by me. His clothes were torn, and he had cuts and blood all over his body. His owner hadn't secured him, and he'd whipped the man so badly, he'd panicked and tried to flee. The lord chased him, and I ran to tell Father that the lord was hurting his slave, and I begged him to go and make it stop."

"What did he say?"

"The slave was property, and it was the lord's choice on what to do. If he saw fit to whip the slave, then the slave had to suffer it. They were criminals, and everyone knew the risk before committing a crime in Soleil. If they still went ahead and did it, they'd suffer the consequences. If they disobeyed the one who purchased them, they'd suffer further consequences, and their purpose while a slave was to obey and serve their Master. He acted like I was being silly."

"It doesn't lower crime from what I've heard," said Remus. "Did he say that too?"

"I don't remember. Since I understood things better, I didn't agree with it anymore. It didn't make sense that a man who committed a theft could be beaten at any time by his Master, and I realized that most of the slaves were likely punished in private. The punishment didn't seem to fit the crime, and I couldn't see it Father's way. Enzo and Remere seemed rather neutral toward the whole thing, or perhaps they didn't want to tell their little brother their real thoughts and figured I couldn't understand. Since I was young, I decided that once Enzo became the King, I'd force him to abolish it, and I wouldn't get off his back about it until he did."

Remus could imagine a little Sébastien with bright clothes and an innocent face deciding that he'd force the future King to do a good thing because it was right, and that's all there was to it. It was very like him to make up his mind about something, even at a young age.

"The Regent didn't care either when I brought it up later and suggested abolishing it or at least heavily regulating it since I didn't believe he'd consider the former at all. He said I was stupid, and he wasn't about to tell Masters what they could do with their slaves. Of course, once I was eighteen, the restrictions loosened, so I had to watch slaves being raped or whatever in the Palace. I couldn't escape it unless I went to my rooms."

And that was after dealing with his own abuse in secret.

"Father wasn't such a hero after that day when I was a child. I still loved him, but…now that I'm older, it's also harder to reconcile that man with the man who raised me. Not once did he ever strike me or my brothers, and he always had time for us when we were little. I feel like I should respect what his wishes were or would have been. I have those childhood memories, and then, I knew what was happening to others because he permitted slavery and…it's fucked."

"So you think he'd have kept me if he was alive and I'd been sent?"

"Yes."

"Even though I did nothing?"

"You could have done something. He wouldn't have been there to witness your guilt or innocence. Also, I shouldn't touch you since I owned you before, and that's not fair."

No longer did he squawk about owning Remus in an attempt to keep him there and willing to aid him.

"You never broke me," said Remus. "Even though I behaved to a limit, and you had control over my daily life for a time there, you didn't own my brain or my thoughts."

"No, but…"

"I can decide things for myself, and I have been. Kissing wasn't an action you forced on me back there. I could have said no, and I know you'd respect that."

"Yes."

If he asked to do it again, the answer would be no. The earlier mood had been broken.

"Enzo grew into a good man, and he never owned a slave or showed any interest in them whatsoever. I think he would have abolished it if he became King. If not on his own, for me if I'd explained my views on it."

Remus wanted to hug Sébastien for mourning a Father he was conflicted about while the Uncle who should have been protecting him wanted him dead.

"You'll be a good King," Remus said in a low voice. "Someone to be proud of even if you and your Father had vastly differing opinions."

"Mm." Sébastien propped himself on his elbow once more. "I want to read."

In other words, go to bed. Clearly, there wasn't going to be any extra smooching although Remus would have rather hugged him.

***

The next two days brought them closer to Calmerra. A few of the men asked if they'd be going there to bring order when they made camp one evening, and Sébastien said no.

"It's full of criminals, Your Highness," said one. "I'm sure they come out once in a while to make trouble."

"They're not all criminals," argued another. "Some are poor or drifters, so they pick a spot to bunk in. It's not like anybody is demanding rent there."

"And how do you pick apart the innocent from those who have killed and went there to hide? You're welcome to go in and start asking."

"Going in and sweeping them out with our swords isn't the best idea right now," said Sébastien. "It's a place I'll deal with later once I'm settled since I think it will take a bit more careful managing, and I do need to think about those who are simply down on their luck and staying there because they have nowhere else to go."

No one dared to mention what had taken place there before it turned to ruin.

Sébastien was a bit snappy that day since their camp was rather close. Once they were past it, he'd hopefully ease. Remus couldn't help but feel more tense with Biatano drawing closer. Nothing had happened lately, although that didn't mean to sit back and get lazy. Lord Dubois probably used the time he spent being quiet and ignoring the Prince to think about whatever he'd surely planned.

The group hadn't frayed and destroyed itself, and the citizens hadn't packed Sébastien into a grave. If a special group of assassins from the Regent came to Biatano, hoping the Prince would be relaxed and feeling safe, they'd likely do something with Lord Dubois.

That was why Sébastien and Remus had to sneak away before anything happened.

"Get dressed," Sébastien ordered Remus when he came in that night after giving him time to wash.

Remus reached to secure the flap. "Why?"

"We're going out."

Remus let a tie drop as he straightened. "What's close by?"

"What do you think?" Sébastien remained facing away as he worked a snarl out of his hair.

"Calmerra's the closet spot."

"Congratulations."

"We're not going there," Remus said in a hard voice.

"Yes, we are."

"For what exactly? Just what the fuck-"

"Lower your voice." The Prince ran his comb through the strands that were free and smooth. "You're coming with me because I need to do something."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"Bullshit. There is nothing in that shithole that either of us need, and the last thing we need is to step foot where-"

Sébastien flung his comb on the bed and turned around before he spoke with barely concealed rage. "Do you think I'm going to see the sights and this is to be a fun excursion? Do whatever. I'll go by myself." He went to open his trunk.

"The fuck you are. If you think you're running off alone, at night in a place like this-"

"At least I won't have to hear you whining and bitching in my ear. I don't need you. Sit on your ass and count your leg hairs for all I care."

"I'm not letting you go into that death trap alo-"

"You're also not telling me what to do. Go behind the curtain while I change until I say. I suppose you'll want a head start on counting your leg hairs."

Remus gritted his jaw. Part of him wanted to take Sébastien by the shoulders and shake him until common sense slotted itself back into place. "I'm going. Try to stop me."

Sébastien remained turned away as he pulled things from his trunk.

"You can't tell me one thing that you want there? I bet if I was doing shit that was needed, and I didn't tell you while having an attitude on top of it, you'd get pissed."

Sébastien straightened up. "I want to look and find evidence for what happened there."

"There's nothing there, and the place is partly burned."

"Have you been there?"

"No, and I never wanted to go. The bodies were removed, and the place was searched too."

"What? By a couple of men who wanted to get out as soon as possible because they think it's cursed?"

"Not everyone thinks it's cursed, and I don't know what you expect to find. A ghost that will explain how the wine was poisoned? Get dressed because I'm done arguing with you, and I know you won't listen to me anyway. We'll go when you're ready."

Remus changed behind the curtain. Since a fire had ruined most of the inside, he knew to wear black and keep himself covered. No rolling up his sleeves or his forearms might end up covered in old soot. In fact, two shirts were better. He could ditch the filthy outer one when they left.

***

Sébastien said Calmerra was a bit far to jog too, and making it back would be too tight because he wasn't sure how long they'd take inside.

The less time, the better. Remus kept that opinion to himself.

They snuck out of the sleeping camp, went around, and approached the tethered horses in a grassy patch. None were worried since both of the fairies were quite familiar to them. One made a low noise as if curious. Whisper was never tethered at night. He allowed Remus to lead him away while Sébastien snuck over to the carts.

When he returned with the saddle and tack, Remus took it without asking to prep the unicorn.

"Nobody heard you?" he asked in a low voice.

"No. The camp's silent except for someone snoring."

Remus finished. "I'll get my horse and bring him over-"

"We're taking one mount."

"We're taking one mount?" Remus repeated stupidly. How was Sébastien going to handle someone being right against him? The saddle could support two, but it wasn't specifically built for a second rider, so they'd have no choice but to be quite close.

"Yes, and you'll control him. You'll be a good boy, right, Whisper?" Sébastien stroked the unicorn's neck, and Whisper tilted his head as if making an effort to carefully listen to their whispering. "You know Remus won't harm you, and if he did, I'd rip off his head."

"Wow, thanks. I've never ridden him before. Saddling him is one thing since he sees you seem to trust my presence."

Whisper snorted, and Sébastien gestured. "He prefers me, but he's fine with you and knows you're not planning to kill him and sell his horn. I think one is a better idea. Less noise and Whisper is better in a fight if someone comes around. He also won't wander off too far. Get up there."

He had a point. Remus climbed into the saddle, and Whisper only cocked his head as if getting a feel for this new rider. Sébastien climbed up behind him. He settled himself with no choice but to be right against Remus.

It felt more intimate than it likely should especially after the Prince wrapped his arms around his waist. He could even detect the faint movement in the Prince's torso as he breathed, and he was a bit stiff, although not too bad.

Remus walked the unicorn farther away from camp so no one would hear galloping hooves and wonder. Once they were a safe distance, he tried to nudge the mount into a trot.

Whisper took off like an entire army was after them. At a full gallop, he was faster than most horses and what Remus was used to. The cool air made his eyes water as Sébastien tightened his grip around his waist.

Remus pulled on the reins to slow him down. "Whoa-come on."

Whisper slowed, tossed his head, and snorted like he was laughing.

"That was all him, not me," said Remus.

"Mhm."

Some spots looked uneven and unsafe in the starlight with the waxing moon shining down. Unicorns had decent sight in low light, and Whisper seemed to know the best spots to step. They cantered when they could, and Sébastien directed Remus a little.

Whisper galloped a few times when it was safe. More land was cleared in huge swathes closer to Calmerra since the city once held a logging business that had made good use of the timber in the area.

They passed what appeared to be abandoned farmland. The fields were choked with weeds and surrounded by fences in need of repair. The dirt road was also weedy from the lack of foot traffic and carts. A couple of homes looked ominous in the dark.

After the brutal slaughter, the survivors and some helpers had taken the bodies away. A couple of days after that, a fire had started. Some said it had been on purpose in an attempt to erase the awful bloodshed in the lord's Castle. Others said a fool had left a candle unattended, or a spark had jumped from a fire and caught something. Since accidental fires happened all of the time, and that one had been quite large, there was no one to point a finger at. If it had come from a minor accident in someone's home, the residents weren't alive to confirm anything.

The Castle was stone, but it hadn't been fortified with a wall, and with the help of brush and the outside gardens, it was possible the flames could have spread inside from a point in the city. The wooden shutters would have let it in.

Remus wasn't entirely sure about that. It was what he'd heard.

The destruction had grown to be too much for water lines to deal with. Many citizens had fled in terror with whatever they could grab before their homes were turned to ash. Others ran to escape the smoke that could kill a man if he inhaled too much. Rain had come and arrested the progression, but it had taken two whole days for all of the fires to go out.

The city came into view as Whisper crested a hill and paused. It should have been pretty in the moonlight. The city appeared lopsided with bigger shapes to one side from what remained. The Castle rose on one side, a dark blot in the land, and the rest of the city was flatter with the ruins.

With so many of the citizens forced to leave or start over with nothing, many chose to head elsewhere. Plenty had died, and a business will fail with a lack of employees and customers. Some felt Calmerra was forever cursed and hauled ass so they wouldn't be snared by it.

Those who tried to cling on were also forced out by the circumstances, and supposedly, only a few stayed and got by with hunting, plots, and scavenging. Criminals roamed the abandoned streets, stayed wherever, and did what they wanted. Since nobody bothered to fix anything, what was left was in bad disrepair.

"Ride along this fence until we get to the end of it," said Sébastien.

Remus obeyed, and Sébastien dismounted first.

"Shouldn't we get closer?" Remus got down.

"He's too noticeable. Aren't you a good unicorn?" Sébastien pulled something from inside his black cloak, and Whisper crunched it up. "Remus, tell him he's the best unicorn ever."

"His head is going to be the size of a house." Whisper nudged Remus's arm. "Okay, okay. You are a pretty damn good boy."

"Stay here," said Sébastien. "I know you won't wander off. We'll be back."

Whisper nickered and watched them walk away.

Remus was almost sure eyes were watching even though that was silly since it was dark, and they were too far away. It wasn't a place to simply stroll into for a look around. He could only imagine the lawlessness that ruled the streets with criminals occasionally trying to kill, rob, or rape another they deemed weaker. Any citizens that had stayed with plots and scavenging must have been good with a weapon.

As they entered the destroyed part, Remus took Sébastien's arm, intending to keep him from falling if he tripped on something in the dark. The Prince yanked it away.

"We have to stick together, and the streets alone are dangerous to walk along," insisted Remus. "There's shit everywhere, and I'm not having you slip and break an ankle."

Sébastien huffed and slipped his hand in the crook of Remus's arm. "Fine. You're not holding my arm like a naughty child being led along."

He hadn't meant it like that. "Sorry. Do you have a lantern?"

"A small one, yes, but let's not tell anyone in the area that we're here right now," Sébastien whispered.

Burned boards and other things he couldn't quite make out littered the streets. The Castle grew larger, and to Remus's left, he caught a faint shout. Not everyone using old homes and businesses would be asleep at this time.

They heard something ahead and ducked behind a crooked, abandoned cart. Two male voices spoke and seemed to be heading toward the better part of the city. One laughed. Remus gripped his sword hilt just in case, and the voices soon faded.

They made it into the Castle grounds without incident. The weeds muffled their boots as they crept closer and around. Greenery had overtaken the yard with no one to keep it neat and trimmed. Some small trees were nothing more than jagged stumps.

Sébastien tried the front door because why not?

It was unlocked, and they stepped in. Dust, dirt, and grit were under Remus's boots, and he bumped something. Sébastien closed the door, pulled out a tiny lantern, and tapped it twice. His face was paler than normal, and without a word, they both looked around the entrance hall.

It was unlikely that anyone would be squatting in such a place. The floor was blackened, and Remus was sure if he stepped in some spots, it couldn't handle his weight. The wood paneling was gone on parts of the walls which were black with soot. If there had been a rug or some kind of cloth carpet in the entrance hall, it was a memory. Bits of burned wood lay by Remus's boots. The stairs leading up didn't look safe, and the air had a strange smell.

"I'm not entirely sure if the fire started elsewhere and got in here," said Remus. "I suppose it could've."

"Mm. Perhaps someone set it in more than one place."

They went into the Hall where those who had accompanied their Kings had watched them attempt to talk peace. Burned chunks of tables and chairs remained. Now that he was seeing it, he was starting to think someone had set a fire in the Castle and lit another elsewhere.

Remus wanted to turn around and walk back out. He couldn't see blood, and it wasn't like any bodies had been left inside from that one night. The Hall barely looked like a place where royalty and lords had eaten. It still turned his guts. Besides their Fathers, dozens had died in this very room, turned rabid by some kind of poison in the wine.

Again, he questioned if one of the Kings had done it, not expecting such a massive fuck up. What if either King had paid off a particular person who decided that everyone could fuck themselves? Maybe they'd decided to turn it around on a nasty King who would dare to ask such a thing to betray the opposing side.

Whatever happened beforehand, the survivors had seen Jean fall to Giorgio's sword. They said Jean hadn't seemed to feel the first thrust. Nobody had been affected by pain. A second hit brought him down, and his body had failed to keep going. Giorgio had flipped him over and done an unspeakable thing to his corpse.

When the survivors returned later, he'd still been on Jean's body. Someone had thrust their sword into him and killed him. Whoever had killed Remus's Father had likely died within minutes as everyone fought, so Remus would never know who'd dealt that blow.

Sébastien walked around the edge of the room. Remus still burned with shame like the day when he'd heard the details and how his Father had been found with his cock still halfway in Jean. Sébastien's feelings toward it had to be far worse even though he wasn't saying anything.

A doorway to one side in the back led elsewhere. Something that might have once been a folding screen to hide it lay twisted and burned.

The kitchen lay beyond. Stone steps led down, and Sébastien followed them. Soot streaked the walls, and the faint odor that permeated the area above grew less as they walked. Since they were below ground, Sébastien touched the crystal lanterns hanging from the ceiling as they went.

"A servant had to have done this." The Prince glanced over his shoulder. "They would have had access to the wines and done the serving. Those in the hall had toasted. The survivors must not have been drinkers and only pretended to sip."

Lucky them.

They passed a few empty storage or servant rooms. The air was cool and rather stuffy. They passed an ironbound door, and when Sébastien tried it, more stairs led to the wine cellar. He stopped on the bottom step.

Every bottle had been yanked out of the racks and smashed. Even with the wine long dried and soaked into the floor, the air still held the smell.

"Nobody mentioned destroying what was left," said Remus.

"Perhaps they were afraid all of it was poisoned and decided to be safe in case anyone tried to snatch a bottle later. Would you drink anything from here?"

"No."

Sébastien carefully picked his way through the glass and between the large racks. Handwritten labels were still stuck to chunks of glass. Remus caught the year on a faded label from over a century ago.

"I don't think there's anything useful in here."

"Hang on."

What did he expect to find?

Nothing interested him after a couple of minutes of crunching around, so Sébastien went back upstairs to the kitchen. Since the lord and his family died that day and weren't around to complain, people must have looted the Castle. A rack over the work counter had one old pan left, and a drawer had been left partially out. A couple of knives remained.

Remus checked a cupboard to find a few old cups askew. The larder was empty except for cobwebs, a mouse that squeaked and ran under a shelf, and broken glass. A layer of soot and dust had coated everything.

"The servants wouldn't have had any of that wine," said Sébastien. "I wish I knew who had worked here."

"They did," said Remus.

The Prince paused in the kitchen to look at him. "They drank it?"

"They were found dead too, so you won't be finding anyone to talk to," said Remus. "You didn't hear?"

"No."

"Servants often sneak that kind of stuff, and the lord might have told them to indulge too. They were hoping for a peaceful end to the war with both Kings being satisfied. Only the cook and a scullery maid were still alive when the survivors put down those left in the hall. They tried to attack, so they had no choice but to kill her."

Sébastien's eyes darkened before he went to the back of the kitchen where a little door was closed. A bed was in one corner along with a small table, a shelf, and a chest of drawers.

"The cook's spot," muttered Sébastien.

The tiny bed was a mess, and pieces of dirty clothing were strewn on the floor. Sébastien crouched by a shelf with a few books.

He checked a few and made a satisfied noise. "The wine list."

"Hm?" Remus looked over his shoulder. The cook had made lines on the yellowed parchment, and in each space, she'd written the names of particular wines, what year they were, and where they came from. At the end, she'd written if it had notes of a certain flavor or went particularly well with a dish.

Most servants or higher-ups had some form of record for the wine cellar to keep track of what they had. A few hundred bottles can be hard to remember.

Sébastien closed the book, stood, and tucked it under his arm. "This is good. We're going downstairs again."