Heartless | A Powerless Fanfiction Novella

Chapter 20: Corrine

Leaving Kitt behind with only a thank you was absurd of me - a weak move - when I know how much more that moment we shared now means to me. The regret of sharing the things I did with him doesn't weigh down on me as much as I thought it would, it feels as though the heaviness of it is almost balanced with something new that I can't place just yet. Does he even realise he unknowingly found the right key to fit into a lock I never thought I'd come near again?

Looking back once to the ballroom entrance just to make sure he hasn't followed me I imagine those two alternate princes: one sitting back down at that piano, his fingers gently grazing the keys once more to remember the notes to ... our song; the other returning to his father's study which I know he usually decides to visits at this hour. The future king of Ilya wouldn't waste his time with a melody, but the Kitt I now know wouldn't abandon it so easily. The former against the latter is a battle I'm sure even he hasn't figured out, but even if I wish to be back with him before that instrument I'm glad I left when I did, otherwise the risk of me giving in to the need of someone truly listening to me would have meant my secrets would no longer be only mine to keep. One particular one extends into what I'm about to do.

"Matthew," My voice makes him turn to face me approaching him, but only when I'm within an inch of the man do I continue quieter even, "I need you to cover for me in the next hour."

"Why? Where will you be?"

"I need to go take care of some things. Lain can't know I'm gone."

"The king can't know you're gone," He whispers sharply, "Lowes do you not understand the gravity of your position right now? Lain has permission to kill you at any chance he sees you stepping out of line!"

"So he won't see me will he? You'll make sure of that." Matthew pursues his lips looking over my shoulder as if to compose himself before he dares to raise his voice, "You owe me this much."

At that he sighs, "Fine. I'll make sure Lain doesn't find out. But Lowes my head will fall just as easily as yours if we're caught."

My tone turns cold, imagining Lain's jagged scar on his jaw extending itself around his throat, "Who knows? Maybe his will fall first."

I twist to leave in my hurry but his low voice stops me in my tracks, "I buried them, Corrine."

I turn, "What?

"The two Ordinary children. I buried their bodies last night after I finished the job. There's a place close to their...house, a patch of earth scattered with flowers. You can find them there."

Oh.

Trying to think of how to respond to that I can only muster a quiet 'thank you', met with a nod from him before I leave. Guards are ordered to dispose of the bodies, usually by setting them aflame for whatever 'stolen powers' to return to the land of the Elites, not bury them. The act alone could be considered treason. But these two children's death at my hand found the only kind of peace we could offer beyond their last moment. I know my power was swift, quick and sharp compared to what their usual fate would have been at the hands of another guard, but that changes nothing. Maybe what Matthew did for me is the only thing that means something.

I don't let the thoughts cloud my mind too much, not when I need it clear enough to face my brother and not kill him on sight. Talking about duty so credulously I wonder what the king will say if I dump Damien in his hands? Am I capable of even considering such a thing? Knowing a treason sentence escaped the crown will push the man over the edge, but knowing he has a direct connection to his enemy? His life is probably worth more than his death. Remembering the Silencer in the cell I wonder how high the chances of Damien crumpling at Kai's hand instead of him were; it could have easily been an early family reunion bathed in the blood that was supposed to be shed two years ago.

My steps on the cobblestone aren't slow, but I try my best to keep a neutral pace walking into the night of Ilya. Street after street I follow the twists and turns until the surroundings become familiar. There is only one place I know to search in hopes of finding him: our home. I come to a stop before the gates to the townhouse, for a moment not daring to step forward and only staring at the residence before me frozen in time. It looks the exact same save for a few vines crawling their way in the crevices of the brick stone walls and chipped paint of the door - but that detail might as well have been curtsy of the Imperials that kicked it that night, I didn't look back once I crossed that threshold with Kai Azer at my side. Something tugs at me when my look lands across the darkened windows, imagining my mother waiting for my father every evening when he returned home, with me standing by her side still in my ballet shoes after my lesson. I almost see two figures forming in the shadows - silhouettes of a forgotten memory. Then something actually moves in the darkness of the house.

So he is here.

I don't hesitate any longer, climbing the steps quickly to the entrance and opening the door that my brother probably left unlocked (how nice of him). One stair at a time I follow the carved railing to the first floor where my room and my brother's have always been. Each creak of the wood beneath my feet is a reminder of a place that is no longer mine, a place I will no longer call mine because with every decoration I spot I see my mother, with every painting my eyes land on I see my father. The people who made this place what it is are no longer here and so I don't intend to linger either.

Two doors either side of me, one my father's study the other my parents' bedroom, the other two rooms adjacent to one another are mine and Damien's. I don't go near mine because I remember exactly what is behind that door: an unmade bed, a dress spread out on a chair and a piano that has probably gathered dust to its whole mass. There's no need for this to hurt more than it already does. The dagger at my side seems to warn me with its reassuring weight but I don't unsheathe it as I creak open my brother's door.

There's no one here.

I could have sworn it was him looking down at me only minutes ago. I begin turning every inch of his place upside down, looking for something to at least tell me he was here until my eyes land on a note sitting idly on his desk, as if it was staring at me this whole time foolishly. The piece of paper is written in his handwriting, each swirl with a twist too obvious to miss:

'I knew you'd come. Admit you miss this place as much as I do, no matter what happened or will happen, I'm still your brother. And you will always be my little sister. I'll see you soon at the ball, Corr.

PS: Wear that pretty dress father gifted you, it would be a shame for it to go to waste.'

The bastard left before I made my way up here, and sure enough the breeze that snaps me away from the fresh ink comes from the wide open window. I've had enough of surprise scheduled visits from the ghost of my brother, I'm not leaving empty handed. My hand rhythmically knocks on the wall as I move across his room, Plagues I don't remember where it is. It's only when I get right before his closet that the knock sounds hollow and I stop. Moving the loosened board away I reveal his old hiding place but as I remember it is usually filled with sweets and all the things my parents supposedly took from him, it's now filled with...letters? I know he never realised his little secret of a spot was no longer secret, so this really must be a discovery worth my time. I take a couple of them out, reading through them fast but making sense of nothing. Plagues, it's written in code. The only two words written in common tongue are the signature: Callumn, and one that I keep coming across: her. They must be talking about a woman, but who is so important as to hide both the contents and the mention of her name? Opening every single one of them I'm left surrounded by a sea of discarded papers and as I look around me it would be hard to miss the faded seal on the back of each, staring back at me as if I were standing amongst reflections.

'R '

The Resistance.