A/N: so a quick note. I’m adding in another interlude and I’m taking the interludes out of the chapter numbering. So if you’ve already read chapter 16 and got confused because this should be chapter seventeen, you’re right! This should have been chapter 17, but since I’m changing up chapter numbers, this is now 16. I hope that made sense. Anyway, enjoy!
The Other Prince
Twenty minutes later, Brandon and Plum were back in the Marquis’s solar. This time, Caliburn sat at the oversized desk instead of Dolamn. His much smaller frame made the massive desk seem that much larger, and Brandon felt himself cowed at his presence.
Caliburn himself sat forward in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his face. He glared at Brandon and Plum, eyes narrowed, and Plum glared back defiantly. Brandon, on the other hand, could not help but feel intimidated. He shuddered as he was reminded of his last time in Philodora’s solar.
“Speak,” Caliburn said eventually. There were no signs of his earlier uneasiness—his infuriating arrogance was plainly visible in his expression, his composure regained.
Brandon glanced sidelong at Plum, who still glared at Caliburn intently. Brandon shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The tension in the room felt thick enough to cut with a spoon.
“Alonzo,” Brandon said eventually, and felt a small rush of satisfaction as Caliburn winced.
“What of him?”
“What do you know of him?”
Caliburn sighed and let his hands fall onto the desk. “I know little,” he answered tightly. “He came as a friend. We…” he hesitated. “We grew close.” He narrowed his eyes again. “And then he betrayed me, and disappeared. I’ve not seen him in weeks.”
Brandon nodded. “How did he betray you?” he asked softly.
Caliburn scoffed. “What business is it of yours?” He waved a hand. “It does not matter. How do you know him?”
“We…” Brandon glanced at Plum again. She had relaxed fractionally, but her hand was still resting on her wand.
“He is functionally dead,” Plum said suddenly. Brandon resisted the urge to put his head in his hands.
“What?” Caliburn asked, incredulous. “What do you mean ‘functionally?’”
“Do you know of the Fifth Law?” Brandon asked.
“Of course,” Caliburn waved his hand again. “Anti-Magisterium dissidents. They claimed responsibility for a raid on a Radiant archive in Damenna a few years ago. The Magisterium tries to keep that sort of thing quiet, but ‘tis not exactly a secret.” He raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with Alonzo?”
“Who did you expect sent him?” Plum asked.
“I’d not expected that anyone had sent him,” Caliburn answered derisively. “You expect me to believe that insurgents sent a man to my castle, with naught but your word to trust?”
“Yes,” Brandon said. “Because they sent us, too.” Caliburn was silent, but his eyebrows knitted together. “Think about it, Caliburn,” Brandon continued. “What did you two speak of?”
“We spoke of magic and politics,” Caliburn answered. “Naught unusual for a Prince-Magician, Vermillion.” Plum rolled her eyes at his tone. “Again, what does this have to do with Alonzo?”
“How did he betray you?” Brandon asked again.
Caliburn flinched as if struck. He gaped for a moment. “He…” he trailed off. His face turned red, and his gaze darted between Brandon’s and the surface of the desk. “He told my father that I was plotting against him,” he said. The words seemed to spill out of him, like a cup of wine overfilled. “My father… he is a cruel, spiteful man, Vermillion. I thought that if I could usurp him, become Marquis in mine own right, then perhaps I could set the Houses right again. I placed my trust in Alonzo, confided in him.” He laughed bitterly. “An unfounded trust, it turns out.”
Brandon nodded. “Alonzo was sent to discover if you were sympathetic to our cause,” he explained. “When he confessed to your father, he betrayed the Law, as he betrayed you.” He forced his tone to soften. “For that betrayal, he was subjected to the Rite of Erasure,” he finished, hoping that Caliburn would know of the ritual.
His hope was correct, it seemed. Caliburn was silent for a moment. His brow was still knit together, and his eyes were intently focused on the desk in front of him.
“So why are you here?” he asked eventually.
Brandon felt the tension in his shoulders rack up another level.
“We are here,” he said carefully. “To bring you to the Law.”
Caliburn finally met Brandon’s eyes, and regarded him quizzically. “What makes you think I wish to join your…” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
“Are we wrong?” Plum asked tartly.
“After what you have just revealed you have done to one of my closest confidantes?” Caliburn snapped. “Why would I?”
“A confidant who betrayed you,” Plum pointed out.
Caliburn’s face twitched in anger. “‘Tis not the point, Delora, and you know that. I never wished him to be…” he trailed off, but then made a noise that Brandon imagined a wolf might make as it ripped apart its prey.
Even if I did not care about Alonzo,” Caliburn continued through gritted teeth. “How am I to know you would not do the same to me as soon as my usefulness runs out?” The bite in his tone felt sharp enough to cut steel.
Brandon took a sharp breath inward. “You spoke of setting the Houses right,” Brandon continued after a moment. “How would you do so?”
“You did not answer my question.”
“Humour me,” Brandon urged, hoping his voice quavered less than his heart.
Caliburn’s mouth twisted in anger. “We are weak, Vermillion,” he said. “Centuries of peace and alleged ‘prosperity’ have let a corruption fester amongst the Houses. The gentry care more for fattening their pockets and suppressing the peasantry than they do anything else.” He was on his feet now, gesturing emphatically. “And my father is the worst amongst them. Think of what we could do with our skills, Vermillion! Magic is a tool that could change the world, and our parents care only how they can use it to stay rich.” His face had turned red, and his mouth was still twisted into a snarl. “I shall do what he is too weak to do,” Caliburn spat, slamming his hand on the desk with the word weak. “Even if I have to burn the Cathedral to the fucking ground myself.”
“That is the point of the Law,” Brandon said emphatically. “The gentry are corrupt and monstrous, Caliburn, you know this. When was the last time you spoke to one of your House’s servants and did not see the fear in their eyes?”
Caliburn scoffed, but Brandon saw a touch of hesitation in his eyes. If I can at least get him to speak with Laszlo…
“Why should I care about the peasantry?” Caliburn asked dismissively. “The reins of power have always lain with us, and I’ve no desire to change that.”
“And yet you admit that things must change.”
Caliburn was silent for a moment.
“You still have not answered my question,” he said eventually. “What is to stop you from Erasing me, as well?”
“You have my word, Caliburn,” Brandon promised. “I swear on all of my light that I will vouch for you.”
Caliburn stood silently again, chewing on his tongue. His eyes darted back and forth as they focused on the desktop in front of him.
“Fine,” Caliburn barked out eventually. “At the very least I’ve no desire to remain a prisoner in my own Hold anymore. I shall humour you, at the very least.”
Brandon glanced at Plum, who met his eyes. She raised an eyebrow, and Brandon felt his face twist into a smile.
“Well then,” he said, turning back to Caliburn. “Shall we plan your escape?”
“-my father would never let that happen,” Caliburn said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“I do not see you coming up with any ideas, Your Grace,” Plum answered, venom dripping from her tongue.
Plum and Brandon had fetched the rest of the Law and, and all of them had met Caliburn in his chambers to formulate a plan. They’d already been bickering for twenty minutes.
“If I had a viable idea, Delora,” Caliburn snarled. “I would not need the help of a gang of rebels, now would I?”
“And I am sure that means there is no solution.”
“That is not what I said!”
“That’s enough, you two,” Theoderic interrupted sharply. To Brandon’s surprise, both Plum and Caliburn shut their mouths. Theoderic’s voice had never struck Brandon as particularly authoritative in timbre, but somehow he was able to rein in unruly nobles with just four words.
“Let’s lay down what we already know,” Theoderic continued. “Knowing what we’re up against is the first step.”
Caliburn rolled his eyes, but obliged. “My father has placed me under informal house arrest,” he explained, with barely concealed irritation. “He has guards at every exit from the Hold and, most irritatingly, a tracking enchantment on me. If I leave the grounds, he will know immediately.”
“What is to stop us from breaking that spell?” Liana asked. She’d mostly been quiet so far—Plum and Caliburn had given little chance for anyone else to butt into their bickering.
“Naught, in theory,” Caliburn answered. “I could do it myself in mere moments. But once I do, he shall know, and that will be curtains for our little prison break.”
“So,” Liana mused. “We either need to find a way to break it without alerting him…”
“Or we get you out before he can stop us!” Willam finished her thought. “Liana, ‘tis just like that legend we studied at the Cathedral!”
Liana rolled her eyes, but Brandon noticed a hint of excitement in her gaze. “Indeed.”
“How did they do it in that legend, Willy?” Brandon asked.
“Well,” Willam began, and then grimaced. “He… did not.”
“Wonderful,” Caliburn commented dryly. “Very helpful, Carnation.”
Liana narrowed her eyes, meeting Caliburn’s with a glare that could have frozen a pot of boiling water. “As much as it pains me to agree with Willy, I do think he is on to something,” she said. “If we can keep the Marquis occupied long enough for you to break the spell and get out of the Hold, we shall be free and away.”
“That is a very large if,” Caliburn pointed out. “If I disappear from the ball for any period of time, he shall suspect it immediately. We are only unbothered now because we are in my chambers. You could not have missed the guards at my door?” His lips curled into an angry sneer.
“What if we make him think ‘tis less of an absence?” Plum mused. “An illusion, perhaps, to fool him into thinking you never left.”
Caliburn waved a hand again. “The tracking spell, remember? He would know as soon as he tapped into it.”
“So we give him reason not to,” Plum said. “A distraction.”
“‘Twould have to be quite the distraction to make Dolamn Citrine lose focus,” Caliburn said.
There was silence from the room as they all considered. Brandon felt his heart drop as he had an idea.
“Perhaps a dance with a Prince?” he eventually said, hesitantly.
Brandon felt five pairs of eyes shift focus to him, and he squirmed in his seat.
“No,” Plum said after a moment. “‘Tis too dangerous.”
“Plum-”
“I’ll not let you put yourself in such blatant danger, Ad-” she stopped herself at a wide-eyed expression from Brandon. “A dance means a duel, and that means you will be in danger.”
“This could be our best path forward,” Brandon insisted. “Do we have a better idea?”
There was silence from the rest of the room for a few moments.
“The kid’s right, Plumeria,” Theoderic said after a pause. “A duel with a Prince will draw anyone’s attention at a ball like this. And besides, that dawn magic shield will keep him safe, right and proper, if needed.”
Plum bit her lip, hesitating.
“Fine,” she said eventually. “But only if I am the one to duel with you.”
Brandon’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of a dance with Plum, but he nodded. “I- well, if you insist,” he answered, furiously hoping that his cheeks hadn’t grown too red.
Theoderic grunted. “Right. So you two will duel to cause a distraction, and then you two,” he turned to Liana and Willam. “Will get the other Prince out of the ballroom. I’ll meet you in the courtyard, and we’ll get out of the castle. By force, if necessary.”
There were nods from most of the group.
“And what part do I play in all of this?” Caliburn asked, almost impetuous.
“Don’t get caught,” Theoderic answered simply.
Caliburn scoffed, but Theoderic continued before he could object.
“Let’s talk details,” Theoderic continued, and the room devolved into discussion and subtle bickering again.
Brandon sighed and leaned back in his chair. As… enticing as the thought of a dance with Plum was, he was still gripped with fear about the plan. Not only would that involve him, by necessity, making himself the center of attention, there was so much room for error.
Calm yourself, he thought, trying to quiet his thumping heartbeat. They are all brilliant magicians. They can handle this. Just shut up and play your part, Brandon.
“We should all get some rest,” Theoderic said eventually, startling Brandon from his rumination. There were affirmative noises from the rest of the group, and they all stood to head to their individual bedchambers.
“Kid,” Theoderic called to Brandon as he made to leave. “Let’s talk.”
Brandon hesitated a moment, but then gestured for Plum to head to their chamber. “I shall catch up,” he said with a smile. Plum nodded and gave his arm a tight squeeze before heading off.
Brandon turned and sat back in the same chair he’d occupied before. Theoderic pulled a chair closer and sat in it backwards, facing Brandon. The other man leaned heavily on the chair, and regarded Brandon with an air of concern.
“You alright, lass?” he asked eventually.
Adelaide released a breath, and she felt her shoulders crumple.
“I do not know, Theoderic,” she said. “I…” she trailed off. He will understand, she thought, and forced herself to continue.
“My mother was constantly comparing me to Caliburn as I was growing up. She asked me more times than I can count why I could not be the perfect prince like him.” She choked out a sardonic laugh. “If she’d only known,” she added softly. Theoderic just nodded, and Adelaide found herself continuing without really intending to.
“And now I am here,” she continued. “And I know myself, but I still hide it. Caliburn is… infuriating, and all I can see when I look at him is how my mother wanted me to be him.” She felt her eyes welling over, and she met Theoderic’s eyes. “How do I bear it, Theoderic?” she said, swallowing hard past the lump forming in her throat. “I tell myself I do not care what she thinks, but my very existence is a disappointment to her. And even then, I can not force myself to do it fully anyway!” She choked back a sob. “‘Tis all so much.”
Theoderic put a heavy hand on her arm. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There’s a lot weighing on you, and I can tell it hurts.” He sighed. “You have a very important role to play, Adelaide,” he continued. “And I’m sorry that it has to be you. I don’t know what I can say that will help, but I can say that I’m proud of you.” He smiled, a crooked smile, and Adelaide felt a surge of emotion that she couldn’t quite identify.
“Y’have people in your corner, lass,” Theoderic continued. “The whole Law, yer cousin, and yer pretty girlfriend.” Adelaide felt her face grow hot, and started to protest, but Theoderic cut her off. “Lean on us,” he finished warmly.
Adelaide sniffed, and nodded. “Thank you, Theoderic,” she said after taking a moment to compose herself.
He nodded, and stood. “Now get some rest,” he said again. “And go hug yer girlfriend.”
“She is not my-” Adelaide began to protest, but Theoderic just raised a hand by way of farewell, and then he was gone.
Adelaide wiped her face and took another deep breath. After a moment, she stood, and went to find Plum.
The next day and a half passed languidly. Adelaide spent much of that time trying to avoid involving herself in the affairs of the visiting gentry. She mostly kept to herself, finding secluded corners of the Hold or gardens to discreetly practice her rose magic, in preparation for the ball. She did have to occasionally dodge the Marquis’s guards, but after growing up under Philodora’s eyes, they were hardly an intrusion.
Before long, Adelaide found herself in the borrowed bedchamber that she shared with Plum, preparing for the ball. Meeks napped lazily at the foot of the bed as Adelaide and Plum dressed.
Adelaide had forced herself into a high-collared tunic, white with black trim, with a red sash tied around her waist. She’d paired it with black trousers and high boots, a proper outfit for a nobleman at a ball.
The outfit had been borrowed from Caliburn. You could not even be bothered to bring a proper outfit? he’d scoffed. Fine, I shall grace you with aught of mine.
It fit surprisingly well for borrowed clothes. The tunic was too tight in the chest for Adelaide’s liking—she felt as though the entire ball would notice the bump, but Plum had assured her that the binding she’d done with some spare bandages hid it well enough.
Adelaide looked at herself in the mirror. She had to admit, she looked rather fetching—the outfit was fashionable, if plain, and the half-tied back hairstyle Plum had done for her gave her a rather refined look.
Looking at herself, though, made her uncomfortable in a way that was hard to describe. She was able to acknowledge that she looked almost the part of the perfect prince, just as she was required to play. She couldn’t shake the feeling, though, that the face that looked back at her was wrong. It felt incomprehensible that when people spoke to her, this was what they saw. Dressed as the Prince-Adept, Adelaide felt so far removed from her own vision of herself that looking in the mirror felt more like how she imagined looking at a sibling would feel. Close, but somehow still so far from oneself.
She sighed and tore her gaze from her own reflection. No sense dwelling on it, right now, she thought.
“Are you well, Addie?” Plum called from her place on the opposite side of the small divider in their room. She was currently dressing in the gown she’d selected from the Hold’s collection. It had apparently belonged to the Marquis’s long-deceased wife, and Plum had somehow convinced the castle’s tailor to rush an alteration job for her.
“Yes,” Adelaide called back after a moment. “Just… thinking.”
“That is never a good sign,” Plum answered, stepping around the corner, holding the laces of her bodice. Adelaide felt her heart skip a beat, and Plum smirked.
She was stunning. The dress was a deep, rich red, and featured a tight-laced bodice above a flowing, ruffled skirt. She’d paired it with glittering silver jewelry, inlaid with purple and red gemstones, and her makeup was done immaculately (courtesy of Adelaide).
Adelaide felt as though the world had ground to a halt, and she must have gaped at Plum for at least half a minute.
“Plum,” she stammered out eventually. “You look…”
“Beautiful? Gorgeous? Stunning?” Plum filled in, smirking again.
Adelaide had no word for what she felt, so she simply beamed, hoping the look in her eyes would be enough. A hint of color rushed to Plum’s cheeks, and she wordlessly gestured again with the laces of her bodice.
Adelaide clumsily took the laces and fumbled to lace Plum’s dress properly. She pushed down the ugly twist of envy that Plum was able to wear such a beautiful gown, and focused instead on tying her up.
Her task complete, Adelaide stepped back a step and looked over Plum. She brushed out a wrinkle in her skirt and straightened her necklace, and then she noticed a small smudge of unblended foundation on her cheek.
“Come here,” Adelaide said absently as she reached to rub the smudge with her thumb. She brushed the finger over Plum’s cheekbone lightly, blending the makeup to a smooth finish. Her hand lingered on Plum’s cheek, and she met Plum’s eyes.
Her deep, dark eyes watched Adelaide through heavy, mascaraed lashes. Adelaide found herself cupping Plum’s cheek with her whole hand, almost unaware of what she was doing. She felt Plum’s hands gingerly touch her waist, the warmth of her fingers seeping through her tunic like flame. She could feel the heat rise to Plum’s face, and she was sure her own would have felt the same. She wanted desperately to close the distance, to press her lips against Plum’s again, to taste her, but-
Plum closed the distance herself in a half a heartbeat. She pressed her lips against Adelaide’s—gently, at first, and then hungrier, more insistent. Adelaide was dimly aware of the other woman’s hands clutching her waist more tightly, and then her arms were around her, pulling her in close. In that moment, all of Adelaide’s fears and anxieties and indecisions melted away. There was nothing left in Adelaide’s world except for Plumeria.
They both jumped as a knock came from the door. Adelaide broke off the kiss, coming back to her body as if waking from a dream. Her breath ran short, and her heart thundered in her chest like a roiling storm. Adelaide tore her eyes from Plum’s and half-turned at the door, catching a glimpse of Plum’s arms still reaching towards her. She ached to turn back around, to throw herself into Plum’s embrace, to forget to ball and Caliburn and the Law and… everything.
But right now, she thought of how easy it would be to lose herself in Plum. To drown entirely, to forget the world and everything in it. To forget her duty. Her head rang with Theoderic’s words from the other day. You have a very important role to play… This was bigger than her, than either of them, and Adelaide needed to do it. This was what she could do, how she could help. She couldn’t let herself fail.
And besides, she told herself. She deserves Adelaide. Her gut twisted. Not Brandon.
She turned back to Plum and plastered a smile on her face.
“Plum,” she forced herself to say. “Once this is over…” she trailed off, unsure what exactly she wanted to say, or how to say it.
Plum smiled back at her, but Adelaide just barely noticed the wrinkle in her brow and the buried hurt in her eyes. The sight made her want to embrace Plum even more, but she forced herself not to, to ignore the ache in her chest at the sight of the woman she loved in pain.
And she did love her, she realized with a start. That was why she never felt right when she wasn’t near, why Millie had felt like a betrayal, why she could so easily feel drunk on her presence. She loved her, but for now, at least, she could not have her.
The knock came again, and Adelaide tore herself away from Plum to answer it. She took a quick breath in to calm herself, and unsuccessfully tried to shake the thoughts of Plum from her head before she reached for the door.
His heart still pounding in his chest, Brandon pulled the door open just as a third, impatient knock began. Willam stood on the other side, his hand still raised from the knock. He wore a smart, darkly colored tunic, the deep scarlet of his House sashed around his waist. It was very slightly too big on him, likely another rushed tailor job. Julien perched on his shoulder, nibbling at a loose strand of his hair.
Behind him stood Liana, striking in a tight, shimmery, pale dress. It was tastefully low-cut, and she covered it with a light, turquoise shawl. Her dark skin was immaculately painted with glittering, silvery makeup, and she wore a polished turquoise pendant. She was inspecting her nails, her foot tapping impatiently. Behind her stood the two omnipresent guards stationed at Plum and Brandon’s door.
“Are you two lovebirds ready?” Liana asked, not looking up from the edge of her cuticle.
“I- ‘tis not- we are not-” Brandon protested lamely.
“We are ready,” came Plum’s voice as she brushed past Brandon and into the hallway. “Right, love?” she asked, looking back at him. The hurt in her eyes was either gone or buried, and either way, Brandon swallowed the ugly lump in his throat. At some point, Plum put her wand into the sheath at her waist, and she clicked her tongue to summon Meeks.
“Right,” he replied. “A moment, please.” Brandon stepped over Meeks as the familiar followed Plum out the door, and grabbed his wand from where he’d set it down. He tightened his Vermillion sash and slipped the wand into its usual position at his waist. He risked one last glance at himself in the mirror, winced, and turned to leave.
Brandon stepped back into the hall and locked the door behind him. He turned to the group, plastering a fake smile on his face.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing down the hall.
Liana rolled her eyes, but turned and walked down the hall, Willam close behind. Brandon made to follow, but as Liana and Willam rounded the corner, he was stopped by Plum’s hand clutching the sleeve of his tunic.
He stopped and turned to look at her, with a quick glance at the disinterested guards, who stood waiting just down the hall. Plum’s gaze was locked on some spot on the floor, and her shoulders held visible tension.
“Plum,” Brandon murmured, gently placing a hand on her arm. “Are you well?”
Plum blinked and lifted her gaze. She met his gaze and smiled softly. Brandon thought it looked forced.
“I am fine, love,” Plum answered after a few heartbeats. “Come on, then.”
She laced her arm through his and pulled him along. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Brandon thought that the familiar warmth of her presence was somehow cooler. He clenched his jaw, and forced himself to look forward.
Once this is done, Plumeria, he thought. I shall tell you all of it. I promise.
Cambria's Corner 
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