Rule of The Monarch

Twelve: Grim Reaper

20 September

'We've knocked on every door, scoured every alley. Where the hell is he?' Heather yelled, her hands buried deep in her hair. 'Perhaps this was planned,' she muttered to herself. 'Yes, there's a clue hidden somewhere. Or maybe he is already on his way to the palace. That's why we can't find him!'

'She's gone mad.' Astor told Evelynn as they peeked through the door. 'Positively out of her mind.'

'She needs rest. Her health isn't the best right now.' Evelynn steered him away. 'Why don't you and Amelia take a stroll? Take a break from Heather's... screaming,' she let on half a smile. 'You can't say no to peace after two days of, whatever this is.'

'Alright,' he sighed. 'Try not to kill her?'

'No promises,' she smiled and stalked off to her sister's room. 'Now I have a Heather to tend to.'

'Is he hiding? Did he run? Or was he taken? Who would take him? The prince of all things.' Heather muttered as she closed her eyes, pacing to and fro on the worn rug. 'The crown jewels would have been easier to take. The riches, the gold, they could have stolen anything else. Why Christopher? He has no material value whatsoever.'

'Heather?' Evelynn knocked on the already open door, startling Heather out of her daze. 'There's something you should see.'

•••

'Are you sure this is where he meant us to be?'

'Quite sure.' Evelynn pushed open the old wooden door and let Heather in. 816 Rian Square was a street over from their rented rooms and a world away from the lively, pristine tea shop they spent hours scouting for potential criminals.

'Are you certain Evelynn?' Heather was a few steps ahead, looking around the bare room and considerably saner than she had been before.

'Quite certain,' she watched Heather move towards a table laden with mismatched papers and upturned ink bottles. 'But forgive me, won't you?' She whispered.

A flick from a hidden knife, a glint of silver in the dark and Heather was clutching her bleeding arm. Evelynn dropped her knife and brought out a gun instead.

'No!' Three shots echoed across the room, Heather collapsing to the floor.

'I'm sorry.' Evelynn said, her expression unfathomable. 'I'm so so sorry,' she knelt down inches from Heather. 'Ow! What—' she held her head throbbing in pain.

'Are you?'

'Heather?'

'No, the queen,' she groaned as she stood and held a hand out for Evelynn. 'Has anyone ever told you you're an imbecile?'

'You're alive.'

'Quite plainly, yes.'

'But I killed you.'

'For two seconds. No,' she brushed the soot off her skirts. 'You tried to kill me,' she knocked on her chest, a metal clang coming in response, a distant echo of Evelynn's matching metal corset at the park. 'I think that explains everything well enough.'

'But you aren't mad?'

'Oh, I'm furious,' she said simply, moving instead to the table of paper towers. 'What the hell were you thinking? That's a very stupid thing you've done. But it's besides the point,' she said without turning. 'If you'd read these before cutting me,' Heather winced at the mention of her wound. 'You would have noticed the drawings.'

'The draw—' her eyes lit up with understanding. 'Christopher.'

'These are new.' Heather picked one up, her back to Evelynn. This one didn't match her cousin's usual drawings. It was much more chaotic, the lines too frantic and loose for it to be his style. But she knew it was his. The drawing was of a young woman with hair and eyes too similar for her to be anyone other than Heather Carlton. It was Christopher who drew these. She knew it from the colour palette he'd chosen and the meticulous detail poured into the eyes. He did it so it seemed as if the drawing itself were alive.

But it didn't bother her that his works were so far away from home. That gave her hope in some way. No, it was the way Christopher had depicted her— with blood staining the front of her dress. A wound on her arm impossibly similar to the one she possessed, a gash at her side and a dagger impaling her chest. Did he want her dead? She looked to the other drawings, finding them completely different than the one she held. 'Evelynn do you—' Heather let out a sharp cry of pain as her sister's knife cut through her side. 'No!' Absolute madness tore from her lips as she grabbed Evelynn's arm before her sister could strike the final blow.

'Let me go!' Evelynn struggled against her.

'What,' Heather maneuvered them in a way that her arm was close to choking Evelynn. 'Is your,' she held the knife at her sister's throat 'Problem?'

'What? Are you going to kill me like you did brother dearest?' Evelynn sneered. Heather's grip slackened for the smallest window of time and Evelynn readily took advantage. Within seconds, their roles were reversed and now it was Evelynn who was prepared to kill her sister. 'Don't take it personal sister. Everyone dies.'

'What?'

'You don't remember?' She scoffed. 'Likely story.'

'What did I do?'

'You honestly don't remember?'

Heather did what she could to shake her head without cutting herself.

'It was ten years ago, right about the time Aunt Emma died. Do you remember?' She didn't allow a moment for Heather to respond. 'You were playing with matches when mother said not to. It's simple really, you started the fire that burned down grandmama's greenhouse. Then you hid in the willow tree, afraid of father, while Jonathan went back in to look for you, died in the process. You. Killed. Him.' She said those last words so viciously, Heather flinched, nearly cutting herself.

'No. No, Jonathan ran away.' Heather said more to reassure herself than fight Evelynn. 'Father said—'

'Father said!' She laughed. 'He is a liar and a cheat in anything but the crown. Not that he could,' she stopped, noticing Heather's head drop backwards. 'Heather?'She dropped the knife and shook her sister. 'Heather?'

A/N

Who saw that coming? I'd really like to hear what you think Heather would do. A vote or a comment would be very much appreciated!