Bare Your Teeth, Wicked Ones

26. Laurent's Plans

Nicholas

Water would be envious of Laurent's graceful movements. Artists strived to create masterpieces capable of capturing such a bitter stare set upon perfect features. Nicholas didn't share those features. He took after his mother, or so he was told. She died after a nasty deal gone wrong. Had a knack for fighting and sometimes got herself into too much trouble. Nicholas was three and couldn't remember anything about her. The paintings hanging about the castle had a stranger who wore Nicholas' face, only more curved and rounder with eyes pale white.

Laurent caught Nicholas by the chin. He long since ceased pretending not to be fearful of his father's touch. Laurent didn't care about the tremble he evoked, holding tight and forcing his head from side to side. Eyes a deeper blue than ocean depths peered silently, then narrowed.

"You are spending too much time in Fearworn's mind. You do not take my warnings seriously. I am not surprised," he spoke carefully, enunciating each word as if he spoke to a toddler. In a manner, Nicholas was for he did not know Laurent's age. Laurent probably didn't remember, either, having lived long enough to claim he watched the first mountains form, and the oldest stars fade.

Shades were powerful, all knew that, but a fae as old as Laurent could temper a sea with knowledge alone. Nicholas had witnessed Laurent's power, how other fae stepped out of his path, how they revered him and that said enough.

"If we are to win this war, then I must remain vigilant. The Generals require updates and I give them, which means I must see through Fearworn's eyes," Nicholas explained, choosing not to mention his own curiosities. Not that he needed to, he noted the frustration in Laurent's gaze. The briefest flicker of anger that could settle a growing storm.

"Every moment is a risk, which you either cannot or refuse to grasp." Laurent laid a hand on his shoulder that promised pain. Though he closed his eyes in preparation, that pain never came. "However, Fearworn is now moments away from death, regardless of your horrendous decisions, and for that I am a little less disappointed in you."

He released an imprisoned breath when Laurent let go. Laurent took a seat at Nicholas' desk. Any who entered would think this tent belonged to him. Laurent wore every space and moment as if it were his own, stitched entirely for him by lesser beings.

"Soon, our allegiance with the mortals will end. We will return to the way our lives should have always been. We shall never stoop so low again," Laurent said.

"And how do you plan to ensure that?"

"Through you, should our work go accordingly. You will wed Eliana after this mess has been cleared. The children sired will be carefully studied. Alvina is most excited about this."

"How could children ensure we will not work with mortals again?"

Laurent gave him another disappointed stare. "I suppose you wouldn't understand. I did not allow your betrothal because I had to. You think I'm incapable of escaping Alvina's traps?"

"Of course not, Father."

"She has an excellent plan with no real vision, so I am using her to my advantage. Alvina will study you, as she does anything she can get her voracious hands on. She will study the children you sire, potential Shades. We may yet learn to control the power within or prevent it entirely, then there will not be another Fearworn and no unwanted alliance."

"Allowing your son and grandchildren to be test subjects to another Lord, would that not make you look bad?" Nicholas offered rather than stating he wanted no part in this. He made that mistake before, after Laurent agreed to his betrothal. As a child, he had cursed his father in his own throne room. Laurent did not wait to deal out pain. He ensured everyone witnessed Nicholas' torment, to ensure not only Nicholas' humiliation but also remind everyone that no one, not even his children, had any right to stand against him.