Shadows Bleed

XX

XX

Vaskarth was kind enough to excuse me from my routine the day following our return from Thyssia, claiming I needed to rest. I attributed the concession to my demeanour, which became rather blue since departing the Baron's mansion. The ride back was spent in silence, the Baron's words echoing in my head and making me question who truly had the most to gain from the death of the High Chancellor.

I woke late the next morning. Actually it was the afternoon, I noticed, glancing at the clock. I sighed and rolled over, the soft sheets remarkably soothing. Unlike most nights, no dreams troubled me last night. It was especially unusual following the previous night's transpirations.

While it was in my capacity to spend the rest of the day in bed, sad reflections would do little good. So it was, with much reluctance, that I pulled back the sheets and clambered out of bed. Donning loose slacks and half-buttoning my shirt, I journeyed to the kitchen.

Yennyfer was there, absentmindedly poking at the food on her plate. The kitchen itself was vacant of servants and other family members. I inched slowly into the room, dreading the line of conversation that was sure to follow.

"How did you go last night?" she asked. I jumped. An inquiry into her mother's death had been my expectation, not this.

"What do you mean?" I replied evasively.

"No need for playing games, I know where you were last night." she stated firmly, leaving no doubt that she was indeed aware of what took place. "Did you do it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What I don't understand is," she crossed her arms and tapped a finger against her chin, "why Baron Jol specifically?"

I rolled my eyes and exhaled, drawing out the breath as long as I could. She reciprocated with a stare of defiance. She would persist until she was satisfied.

"It was preparation, to see if I have what it takes to do what comes next." I explained.

"And what comes next?" she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth as she said it, breaking etiquette by continuing to speak. "What has my father been preparing you for that's so secret?"

It would be easy to keep the truth from her. After all, I was under no obligation to tell her what Vaskarth and I were planning. The rebellious spirit within me, which was frustrated with him for making me do what I had, chose to tell her.

"I'm going to kill the Emperor," I said bluntly. The prospect was less daunting after having nearly two months to dwell on it. For Yennyfer, however, it was news. I thought, for a moment, she might choke on her food, from the way she started and stared at me with wide eyes, jaw agape.

"The Emperor?" she asked incredulously. "Of Westwinter?"

"The one and only," I chortled softly. It wasn't that I disrespected the seriousness of the matter. Rather, with so long to adjust to it, I no longer cared enough to act like it were entirely noteworthy. Maybe I was still numb from last night.

"How?" was her next question.

"Your father has a plan. I trust him."

"What do you know?"

"That he has to die. If he does, his daughter takes the throne. Her sympathy for the Aer Savarthim is well known. Your father's agents are convinced, should she reign, the Savari will be free."

It felt good to share what I had kept between myself and Vaskarth for so long. Shimei knew, having been present for the unveiling of Vaskarth's 'master plan', but we never spoke of it. A part of me trusted Yennyfer, just as I once did her father.