Nyte Guard: Chapter 6 - The Fallen Prince

Obviously, I’m going to tell Quell. And leave the Crimson Aegis—what, does he think I’m an idiot? 

I watch Constance with a critical eye for the rest of the morning, from the social event in the throne room, to an excessively fancy dinner. He continues to drift through every interaction, only speaking when spoken to, but otherwise fading into the backdrop. He’s a shadow of the man I met before. 

I can tell Quell is also bothered by this. Multiple times he attempts to break away from his parents or the kings to speak with his brother, but the few times he’s successful in disengaging, Constance manages to vanish until Quell is once more pulled back into conversation. I suspect illusions are involved. 

On the plus side, with all the attention on Quell—and Liz, to a lesser extent—I’m also able to keep out of the limelight. Darian and I shadow the regents wherever they go, and everyone seems to prefer to ask Liz and Quell about us, rather than ask us anything directly, which I find vastly preferable. 

What I don’t like is how Quell talks about me. 

I should have seen it coming, I suppose. The validity of their relationship had been a friction point between Liz and Darian, too. I just hadn’t expected Quell to hide our relationship from his parents. I thought he’d tell them. 

I thought I’d gotten tough enough that this wouldn’t hurt me again. 

By the time we all retire, with Moonfall servants showing the Duneshade royalty to different quarters, it’s less than two hours until noon. Weariness has sunk into my bones, but Constance’s message still lingers at the forefront of my mind. When I finally pull the doors to our room closed behind us, Quell lets out a groan of relief. 

“That was exhausting,” he says, rubbing a temple. “These next few weeks are going to be exhausting.” 

No kidding. “Quell,” I say, removing the Crimson Aegis to lean against the wall by the door. I roll my shoulders in relief, then dig Constance’s folded note out of a pocket. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.” 

Quell’s shoulders tense, and when he turns to face me, his mouth is pulled in a grimace. “I’m sorry, Nye. I shouldn’t have misled you.” 

A fresh bout of irritation and hurt surfaces with his words, but I stuff the feelings back down. “That’s not what I—”

“I never told my parents about our relationship,” he continues, pacing aimlessly across the room as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I should have told you. I just—I didn’t know how to broach the subject.”

“It’s not brain surgery,” I say, my frustration still bleeding through in spite of myself. “‘Hey Mom, Hey, Dad. We’re dating.’”

“No, I—I know.” Quell turns to pace the other way, looking everywhere but me. “It’s just, you know, I never expected to… And given my station—”

I scoff. “Sorry I’m beneath you.” 

The Aegis rouses in my mind. What’s wrong? Why do I feel threatened? Is there something to fight?

I ignore it.

Quell spins back to me, expression wounded. “That’s not it at all! It’s just that as a royal heir they expect me to fulfill certain obligations—”

“Like marry other royalty,” I say bluntly.

He winces, glancing away as he fiddles with his glasses. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“Not without talking to them about it,” I say. The Aegis continues to search our surroundings for the source of my hurt, confused to find no threats. “Ignoring the problem isn’t going to make it go away.”

“Of course,” Quell hastily agrees. “But it’s a problem I know I can solve. I’m sure once I get back to Duneshade there are old decrees I can dig up that will support my case. I just need to find them.”

“And what about now?” I demand. “Are we just supposed to pretend like we’re not in a relationship?”

The Crimson Aegis is extremely confounded. It can’t see any—

Aegis, shut up, I mentally snap.

Quell hesitates, expression pained. “I’m not sure. I suppose Liz and Darian managed to hide it for several years…”

It’s like a stab to my heart, and all the old, buried pains come bleeding out. “No. I’m not something to hide. I’m not someone to be ashamed of.” Angrily, I grab the Aegis and shove it back onto my back. 

“I’m not ashamed of you!” Quell cries. “Gods above, wherever did you get that idea? This mess all just boils down to stupid rules and the circumstances of our birth.”

“Yeah?” I shove the door open. “Well I’m done with being treated as ‘less than’ because of how I was born.” I stomp out into the hall. 

“Nye, wait!” Quell follows me to the door. “That’s not what I meant. Where are you going?” 

“To blow off some steam,” I call, not looking back. “Maybe do some rounds. I am your guard, afterall.”

“Nye,” Quell calls after me, and the hurt in his tone is almost enough to make me stop. But he doesn’t follow after me, and I smother the part of me that wishes he had.

The Aegis is all fired up, my emotions having bled over into it, and now it’s itching for a fight. (Though, when is it not?) Are there enemies to track down? Monsters to slay? Foes to vanquish?!

No, I think, exhaling my frustration. Just old wounds in need of healing.

Ah, of course! The Aegis understands wounds. Now it knows why I feel so hurt! But where is the blood? If I am bleeding, it might as well take some of the blood. 

I smile sadly. These aren’t the kind of wounds that bleed.

The Aegis is back to being confused. Wounds that don’t bleed? What madness am I spouting?

I chuckle to myself. The Aegis’s single mindedness is refreshing, actually. I kind of envy its naivety. It’s probably happier than any person I’ve ever known. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Before I know it, I’m standing in front of my brother’s door. I raise my fist to knock, then hesitate. Álvaro and I haven’t talked since our duel. What am I even doing here? 

Whenever any of us got into some shit back home, we always had each other to vent to. I’m not sure I want to talk to him about my relationship with Quell, though. And I doubt he’s keen on listening to anything I have to say. 

I pull my hand away from the door and rub my forehead instead. With a sigh, I turn away, but before I’ve had a chance to go far, the door swings inward.

The stranger that is my brother stands in the opening. It’s so strange to look at this entirely different person and think brother. But that lopsided squint he gives me can only be Álvaro. 

“Great,” he says flatly. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. “Sorry to bother you. I was just leaving.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, nodding toward the floor. “You triggered one of my spells. You were standing there a weirdly long time.”

I glance at the floor, where a faint spell circle is glowing against the stone. His Hunter class can be really annoying. 

I snort. “You were watching me? Creep.” 

His mouth twitches into a smirk. “You’re the one standing outside my room like some kind of stalker.” 

“Says the guy with the class that literally stalks things,” I shoot back.

Álvaro cracks a smile. “I don’t need magic to hear your elephant footsteps coming from a mile away.”

“Least I don’t have ears like one,” I say, grinning as well.

Álvaro grabs his ears. “Brute!”

“Dummy.”

He laughs. “You have the weakest insults.”

Just like that, it feels like we’re home again. Like all the shit we’ve been through since that day in the ocean never happened. I linger in the moment for as long as I can.

“Look, it’s late, and I’m tired,” I finally say. “I really don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to say that, no matter what happens with the tournament, I’ll always be there for you, okay?”

His expression softens. “Yeah, dude. I know.” Then he leans forward, and for one bizarre moment, I think he’s going to give me a hug. 

Instead, he punches me in my shoulder. Hard. “Now go be dork somewhere else.” 

“Careful,” I say as I back away. I raise my eyebrows in amusement. “Wouldn’t want to break your fingers before the tournament even starts.”

“As if!”

I turn away with a grin and Álvaro watches me go. He hit me right in the armor, and maybe it makes me a bad sibling, but as I look back at him through the eyes of the Aegis, I take satisfaction in the sight of him shaking out his hand behind my back. 

#

I’ve cooled off by the time I make my way to the Marigold courtyard. I know I’ll need to apologize to Quell when I get back. But it’s nearly the time Constance requested to meet, and I’d like to get there early to scope out the area, just in case. I never did end up telling Quell about the note, but that can’t be helped now. 

I close one eye and squint the other as I step out into the courtyard. It’s uncomfortably bright, but a lattice of vines cover the square in shade, and I suspect spells are involved in keeping the full force of the sun from bearing down on me. Even so, I slip a pair of shaded goggles over my eyes to dim the daylight. 

As the name implies, the courtyard is full of marigolds. I thought they only came in shades of orange and yellow, but the swirling design of the garden contains bursts of purple as well. Gold and purple; the colors of the Moonfall kingdom. 

Constance steps out from behind a gilded gazebo. “You’re here early,” he remarks.

I frown, glancing around the courtyard, but we appear to be alone. “So are you.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “Old habits.” 

He’s changed into less formal attire, though just as regal as ever. The expensive clothes contrast with the bags beneath his eyes, and even though his muscles couldn’t have atrophied much in the few months he’s been away, his hunched posture makes him look much smaller than I’m used to.

The prince frowns as he looks me over. “I told you to leave the Crimson Aegis.” 

I snort. “I’m not disarming myself to attend a suspicious meeting with someone who tried to kill me the last time we met.”

My words are met with a grimace. “The intent was not to disarm you. I…” Constance glances away, absently rubbing his right arm. “I find it difficult to think completely straight with the Crimson weapons nearby. We can proceed with it present, but it will make conversation more difficult for me.”

Oh. Yeah, that makes sense actually. I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the guy. Even given all the terrible things he did, he wasn’t completely in his right mind, so I can’t entirely blame him. 

Not entirely.

Aegis? I ask. Mind going in the Inventory for a few minutes?

The Aegis certainly does mind! It does not like the Inventory one bit. 

I technically don’t have to ask, I can just do it, but that wouldn’t exactly help the trust we’re trying to build in each other. 

I know, I think. But it will only be temporary. And I’ll give you some blood or something afterward. 

The shield perks right up. Oh! Yes! That is acceptable compensation. 

Or maybe bribery is a better motivator than trust, where the Aegis is concerned.

I add it to my Inventory, and the shield vanishes from my back. 

Constance lets out a heavy breath, and his shoulders slump. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” I watch him carefully as I make my way into the courtyard, joining Constance at the gazebo while still maintaining a healthy distance between us. He leads me around the structure until the courtyard’s entryway is out of sight, but seems content to leave the wide gap between us. 

“So what’s going on?” I ask when the prince remains quiet, his gaze lingering on the ground. “Why all the cloak and dagger? And why didn’t you want Quell here?”

Constance seems to nod to himself, pressing his mouth into a firm line that contains a hint of his previous sternness and conviction. “Because Quell wouldn’t like the favor I need to ask of you.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “And you think I would?”

“No.” Constance finally lifts his gaze to meet my own. “But I think you might agree to it anway.” 

Oh this I have to hear. “Why’s that?”

Constance rubs his arm. “Because you’re the only one besides myself who can understand what it means to carry these weapons. You’re the only one who truly understands their burden.”

Shit. Well, he’s got me there. As much as Quell has seen everything second hand, he doesn’t really know what it’s like to use the Aegis—or be used by it. 

“What’s the favor?” I ask. 

His eyes become hard, and for a moment they’re the clearest I’ve seen them since he arrived. “I want you to wield the Crimson Scimitar.”

There’s a beat of silence before I cough out an astonished laugh. “Me? Are you insane?”

“Perhaps,” he says, and I immediately regret my word choice. “I am not who I once was, that much I know. But I also know you are the best option to wield the Scimitar.” 

I shake my head with another laugh. “No, I’m the worst option—maybe right after you. Consolidating the Crimson weapons is a terrible idea.” It would double the relics’ influence over me at the very least—and Quell suspects there might be even greater consequences to bringing the Crimson weapons back together, but he can only speculate.

“Perhaps,” Constance agrees. “But you already wield the Aegis; you are already tied to them. If you had both weapons, it would prevent anyone else from becoming influenced by their power. Or do you really not care if the Scimitar infects someone else? I’ve heard you have a brother in the tournament.”

Anger flashes through me, but it’s not him I’m mad at. Or even my brother, or the Moonfall kings. I guess it’s just these circumstances. And the Scimitar.

“Of course I don’t want it to infect someone else,” I snap. “If I had any say in things, we wouldn’t be having this competition in the first place, and the Scimitar would be locked up somewhere it would never see the light of day again.”

Constance nods along to my words. “I agree that would be the best case scenario. But I cannot sway my parents on this matter, and if Quell has not been able to talk the Moonfall kings out of their plan, then there is little either of us can do to stop it.”

“So why are we even having this conversation?” I huff. 

“I said there is little we can do.” Constance’s attention finally wanders away from me, settling on a nearby flower. “Not nothing.” 

He’s silent for a moment as he touches the blossom. His hand curls gently around the flower, and then he lets it slip through his fingers. “It’s strange. I know I should feel something. Only the spells keep me from accidentally crushing it.” Then his arm flickers, and the illusion covering it falls away in motes of light. 

The prosthetic appears to be wooden and covered in runic carvings, much like Earnest’s prosthetic leg. I had expected it to be made of something fancy, like gold, but I suppose that wouldn’t be a great idea in the desert, and with illusions at your fingertips, I guess it doesn’t matter what it’s made of. 

“Did Quell tell you why they brought me here?” Constance asks, looking at his hand. 

This conversation is quickly going from baffling to uncomfortable. “He said there were still parts of the Scimitar in your arm, and they were hoping to see if proximity to the sword will help remove them.”

Constance nods. “It won’t work.”

I blink. “What?”

“It won’t work,” Constance repeats. “I can feel it.” He holds up his arm with a quiet, lyrical hum, and magic swirls around the prosthetic. The wooden arm vanishes, and I’m left a clear view of the scarred stump of his arm. My stomach lurches as I recall my shield severing his arm in sudden clarity. I push the memory away.

“I can sense it near,” Constance says, raising his arm. Something appears to be moving beneath its skin. To my horror, pinpoints of red light break through like wriggling worms. “And if they let the sword get too close…”

An image of the Crimson Scimitar flickers into existence in the air before him, and I take a startled step back. The wriggling bands of red extend from Constance’s arm like thin fingers reaching for the sword. 

“...it will never let me go again.”

The Scimitar and the severed bands of magic in Constance meet, binding together in a flash of light. Red veins snake up Constance’s arm and quickly spread across his whole body. The Scimitar becomes an extension of Constance’s arm; where the sword stops and the prince begins become indistinguishable beneath the crawling bands of red. The prince straightens, and he’s abruptly just as tall and imposing as his previous self—no, even more so. His build radiates power and danger. When he smiles down at me, I can feel the murderous intent in my soul. My heart is beating loud in my ears, and I instinctively reach for my Inventory, ready to draw the Aegis.

And then the illusion disperses, blown away on a breeze. The Scimitar is gone. The red veins of magic have vanished. Only the simple wooden prosthetic extends from Constance’s raised arm. The prince is still smiling down at me, but now the expression is full of weariness and regret. 

“I can lead you to it,” Constance says. “All you have to do is spill a drop of your blood on its blade, and then it will be too late for anyone to stop you.”

My mouth is dry. The monstrous illusion Constance just conjured is still burned into my vision. I have to pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “I don’t want to become that.” 

His look turns pitying—an apology, almost. “Would you rather it be someone else?”

My stomach churns, and no matter how much I want to speak, I can’t find any words to say. 

“I know the weight of what I ask of you.” Constance seems to collapse back in on himself once more, a weak and broken man. “You don’t need to decide tonight. We still have time before the Scimitar gains a new wielder… one way or another.” He rests his organic hand on my shoulder, and it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “Please think about it.” 

Then he moves past me, his hand lifting from my shoulder as he makes his way back into the palace. 

I stay rooted in place long after he’s departed.