Heir of the Underground

Chapter 28: Prissayne

The world had turned gray. In just the matter of a few minutes, it had lost all of its color. The beauty of everything, of mere day to day life, had fled with Eldridge. He had sucked it all dry, and in the process, he had sucked Prissayne dry too.

Everything became harder. Simply waking up was a task that felt daunting and nearly impossible. There was little to look forward to in Prissayne's eyes. She was alone, and the boy she had been given to protect was gone. She had failed to save him.

And yet, few tears were shed. All Prissayne felt in the days following his passing was numbness. She felt hazy too, almost like she was floating or drifting through life. Everything felt like a nightmare or a twisted fantasy, like she was back in Rheolaeth imagining a future like she had in the garden. Only this future was awful.

A future without Eldridge was awful.

Now, life was awful.

When Eldridge was put to rest, Prissayne was the only one who attended. She kept the event private. In fact, Laurent had suggested it be that way so that Prissayne could have her final moments with him. This, of course, was in exchange for her vow of silence.

What Laurent didn't know was that Prissayne had vowed silence regarding the event anyway. Eldridge was like a shadow or a ghost. Most people didn't even know he was there.

As a matter of fact, Prissayne was nearly certain that the majority of their townsfolk didn't even know he existed. So who would believe her? Who would believe that Laurent, the charming, glowing man that they all loved, would have killed some child they had never heard of or bothered to remember?

No one would believe.

No one.

So she kept the funeral private. And she stayed quiet. She stayed quiet about his death and at the funeral. There weren't enough words in their language to express what he meant to her, nor were there enough to express how much she hurt. So she said nothing at all.

The silence spoke for her instead. It spoke for Eldridge too, forever quiet. And it spoke for their future together, for their future as brother and sister, mother and child: non-existent, mute, no more.

Eldridge was gone.

~

Laurent avoided Prissayne like the plague in the days following Eldridge's funeral. His behavior indicated guilt, maybe even regret, though the possibility of his feelings being that complex seemed unlikely.

He had killed Helios. He had killed Eldridge. He married Sorcha off and cut off her communication. Now, the same was going to be done to Prissayne. And he did it all without second guessing anything.

He was that set on having the throne and eliminating any and all competition.

The more Prissayne sat with this idea, the more certain she became of her next move.

She needed to take the throne from him. Keddeirin needed to become hers. She had no idea how, but it needed to be done. He didn't deserve to be in charge, and he didn't deserve to live out his wildest fantasies. Not after all the pain he had caused.

But how to accomplish this? How to dethrone or even kill Laurent if she couldn't successfully convict him of his crimes?

If she could only find someone else who could do it for her, or at least provide the means or opportunity for it to be done...

Her genius plan finally came to her when she was going through Eldridge's paintings a few days later, packaging them away in boxes. She didn't want the reminder. She couldn't have the reminders.

But this reminder—Eldridge's first depiction of Aurelia, when she had first come to visit in Keddeirin, this was the reminder that she needed.

Aurelia hated Laurent. He had betrayed her, and clearly she wasn't over it. If the correct bargain was struck, then it seemed entirely possible that Aurelia would help. And if she did, then other Fey would too.

Laurent would get what he deserved one way or another.

In no way would it mend Prissayne's heart. Hers was far too broken, beyond repair. The ache she felt over Eldridge's departure from existence would be long-lasting.

Still, it was worth a try. If not for her own sake, then at least for Eldridge's. He deserved some sort of revenge, a form of justice. Laurent couldn't just act however he wanted and get away with it. He wasn't a deity.

He was just a man. And like all other men, his life was a waning, precarious thing, able to be ripped from him at any moment.

~

The letter took almost no time to craft. As soon as Prissayne sat down at her desk and put a pen in her hand, she found the words that she needed to convey her message. She concocted an offer, a deal to satisfy both parties.

But how to get the letter to its recipients?

The number of human servants largely outweighed the number of Fey. But she found one all the same: a purple skinned, white haired Fey with claws and mismatched eyes of black and silver.

He had no name and lacked awareness until she started sneaking him antidotes and seeing to it that he wasn't drugged each morning. And after a few days, he introduced himself as Gothar Brackenroot. He had been a spy for the Fey during the war, but had gotten captured in the last year and then gifted to the Elder King by Percival.

Indeed, he would do.

So the letter found a new home in his claws, and he left eagerly, swiftly, fully on board with this new plan of hers.

All that was left was to wait and hope that this offer was one that Aurelia wouldn't refuse, to pray that this young Fey girl would be the key to avenging Eldridge.

And to keep her guard up in the meantime. The more helpless, the more inconspicuous and depressed she appeared, the better.

While it was true, she ached. She saw the world now in only a muted gray, void of all color. But, even despite this, Prissayne was far from helpless.

Laurent had broken her heart, had broken her soul, had broken her entire family into crumbled pieces, for good.

But he hadn't broken her mind. And he hadn't broken the love that she felt for Eldridge, the love that rang true and was nursed by the hate running through her veins.

Justice would be served, or else she would cease to be.