Chapter 38: The Grand Duke Investigates Three Problems (2)

Temple again.

Of course.

Only some of the temple branches knew about black salt formations. And only because the creator, one of my ancestors, got too careless and was scammed out of it.

"Which means someone knowledgeable helped them."

"Most likely, sire."

Abi tapped his finger against the armrest.

"The puppy is wrapped in wards, fed strange medicine, and reacts to a broken old thing in a box. Are all imperial heirs this troublesome?"

"Usually, they are troublesome in less interesting ways. This one seems to be an exception."

"What a pity."

I picked up the list of symptoms gathered from servant rumors. The Crown Prince’s fainting spells in childhood, the private tutors dismissed after witnessing an incident, the sudden reduction of physical training during certain years, the long sleeves worn even in summer during his adolescence.

Long sleeves.

I circled that line.

"Have our people confirm whether the Crown Prince bears marks on his body," I said.

William stilled for half a breath.

"Discreetly, Your Excellency?"

"Obviously. I am not asking them to strip the future emperor in a corridor."

Abi looked up. "Would that work?"

"Abi."

"What? You said obviously, but humans do strange things often."

William lowered his eyes.

The man was fighting laughter.

Sigh.

My household truly was deteriorating.

"Marks?" William asked, regaining composure.

"Seals, tattoos, old scars, discoloration, anything unusual. If his life force is suppressed, there could be a physical anchor. No, I’m sure there is."

William nodded. "Understood."

I looked at the final report.

Black ribbon. The lower vault.

I almost did not want to open it. But that was just for a moment.

A villain lord is not intimidated by paper, after all.

Even if the paper contained rude fragments that awakened visions of fields, falling lights, laughter, blood, and burning wings.

I opened the stack.

The first section contained copied notes from Sonomi’s archives concerning Lorillis. I was already familiar with most of them. Old settlement songs, early maps, beast migration records, even the founding oath.

I’ve also seen the warnings against building permanent structures over certain deep dune fields. And occasional mentions of the desert as keeper, mother, witness, devourer, judge.

Poetic exaggeration, most of it.

Probably. I wasn’t there so I couldn’t be sure.

The second section contained the preliminary copies sent by the palace early that morning under the empress’ authorization. That was suspiciously efficient. Either the empress wanted me working quickly, or she wanted to see what I would do with incomplete information.

Perhaps it was both.

The copies included transcriptions of several lower-vault fragments involving dusk-born, borrowed voices, dead calling sweetly, sealed dawn, western wound, beloved jailer, and sun-scoured silence.

All charming phrases for something likely awful.

But one line caught my attention more than the others.

When the wishing star fell silent, the bargain broke, and the dusk-born learned to wear prayers.

I stared at it.

A wishing star?

Bargain?

Wear prayers?

Something shifted at the edge of memory again.

I seem to hear a voice laughing.

It was not Abi’s. No.

It was even older than his.

But warmer. It was calling me something.

A name.

Not Skandar.

Not Aashadhar.

But something else.

For a breath, I almost heard it. But then Abi dropped his pastry plate. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

The sound shattered the moment.

I couldn’t help but look up sharply.

Abi stared at the copied transcription on the desk. His face had gone pale, which was impressive considering his complexion.

"Abi."

He blinked, then looked away.

"How clumsy of me."

"Do not insult me."

His jaw tightened.

The room grew cold, though the windows were shut.

William’s hand moved slightly toward the sword hidden beneath his butler’s coat. He did not draw it, but the motion was there.

I held up a hand. I might scold Abi and sometimes overindulge myself as his brother, but he was still a true-blue Jinn, a powerful transcendent being.

He stopped.

"Leave us," I said.

William hesitated.

"Your Excellency."

"Wait outside, William."

His gaze moved to Abi, then back to me.

Finally, he bowed. "As you command."

Once the door closed behind him, silence settled in the study.

Abi remained seated, his fingers curled against his knees. The shattered plate lay near his feet, honeyed pastry scattered across the carpet like casualties of confectionery war.

A pity for the pastry had not deserved such an end.

"What did you remember?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Again. Do not insult me. I am not a fool."

He laughed once, but there was no humor in it. "You are becoming very hard to lie to."

"I was always hard to lie to. You were merely too shameless to notice. And I was merely letting you get away with it."

His lips twitched faintly.

Then the expression vanished.

"I do not remember clearly," he said at last.

"That is the truth."

"Hmm."

He looked at me.

I waited. I was good at waiting when the situation required it.

Not emotionally, perhaps. But internally, I was shaking several answers out of the universe by the collar. Externally though, I was the picture of noble patience.

Abi leaned back slowly and closed his eyes.

"Before I was bound to the lamp, before Abinatha became a forgotten name only whispered by those who did bad bargains, there was a war."

"Most histories have wars, that much I am aware of."

"This one was different."

"They all say that. But it is still history repeating itself."

He opened one eye. "Do you want me to speak or not?"

"Sorry. Force of habit. Continue."

He closed his eye again.

"I remember a city that did not cast shadows. I remember deities laughing like drunk kings. I remember something with too many mouths making promises in voices people loved. I remember prayers becoming chains. I remember... a star that granted wishes."

My fingers stilled on the paper.

"A wishing star?"

"Perhaps. That is what some called it."

"What was it?"

Abi opened his eyes.

For one brief second, I thought he would answer.

Then his expression twisted with frustration.

"I do not know."

"Abi."

"I do not know," he repeated, sharper this time. "Every time I reach for it, the memory... slips. Like water through cloth."

Burned cloth.

Burning wings.

The field.

The laughter.

How troublesome.

"Did this star have anything to do with the dusk-born?"

His mouth tightened. "Yes. No. Perhaps. I do not know."

"You are terribly unhelpful."

"I noticed."

That answer was too quiet.

I studied him.

Abi had always been irritating. He was carefree, shameless and childish in so many ways that belied the age of his existence. This was the first time he looked genuinely unmoored.

It did not suit him. Worse, it did not entertain me.

"Did the relic in the vault come from that war?" I asked.

He nodded once.

"I think so."

"Did it belong to the wishing star?"

Silence.

Then, softly, "Maybe."

The word hung between us.

I leaned back.

Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.

My archive problem had now gained a possible pre-imperial war, prayer-wearing enemies, a broken relic linked to a wishing star, and a Jinn who had memory holes large enough to hide a mountain range.

How was I supposed to become a villain lord in peace under these conditions?

At this rate, the world was throwing ancient crises at me like unpaid debts. And I do not have debts.

"I need more records," I said.

Abi stared. "That is your conclusion?"

"Yes."

"Not concern? Not alarm? Not existential dread?"

"I prefer to peruse records first and feel the dread later, if it has the guts to find me."

For some reason, he laughed. This time, it was real, though faint.

"You have always been like that."

The words came too naturally.

The silence after them was immediate.

I looked at him.

Abi looked at me.

His eyes widened slightly.

I smiled slowly.

"What did you say?"

He stood abruptly. "I said nothing."

"You said I have always been like that. How do you know that? We’ve only been brothers for days."

"I misspoke. It’s just an assumption."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Funny how terrible of a liar, you are."

He smiled brightly. Too brightly. "I am hungry."

"Too bad, you just murdered a pastry plate."

"I need my emotional support food, okay?"

"Sit down, Abi."

"No."

"Abinatha."

"I suddenly remembered I need to bother the kitchen staff."

Before I could stop him, he vanished. That was the first time he did so. He used to just float while fleeing.

What a coward he was.

The shattered plate remained so did the words.

You have always been like that.

I stared at the place where he had been.

Then sighed.

"How troublesome."

The door opened a moment later and William stepped inside.

His gaze took in the shattered plate, the missing Jinn, and my darkened expression.

"Shall I send someone to clean that, Your Excellency?"

"Yes. Please do so."

"And Lord Abinatha?"

"He escaped."

"I see."

"Do not let him emotionally support himself through our entire pantry."

"I will alert the kitchen, at once."

At least someone in this house remained useful.