Chapter 51: Chapter Nine – An Intricately Crafted Cage

“There wasn’t even a sniff of tiny cakes,” Sayuri muttered bitterly as the carriage bounced back toward the front gate of the countess’ mansion. “Not even any tasty scones or tea. For being a prince, he throws terrible parties.” I patted Sayuri’s hand gently.

The countess was silent the entire ride back. Her eyes remained locked on the windows of the carriage as the land passed by. She was not happy. I glanced at her face. She really was beautiful. Her lips were full and pouty. Her cheekbones were refined and noble, her eyes deep and mysterious. But there was a burning anger in the depths of those eyes. She was pretty, yes. But she was also a stone-cold alpha female who would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. I could attest to that firsthand since she’d already killed me once and probably wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

How many times can I die? I thought, my eyes absently running over the rough stone buildings as we passed through the outer wall and into the city proper. Surely there had to be a limit. How much damage could I sustain before I couldn’t heal through it? What, exactly, were my limitations? Or, I guess, to be accurate, what were this body’s limitations? I felt a bit like I would imagine a superhero would feel. Assuming superheroes were real and were actually travel-sized half-elves. I could be Minji Woman or Captain Minji. No, both of those names were stupid. Besides, I wasn’t only Minji anymore, was I? Honestly, I had no idea, and the psychological ramifications were far beyond my meager capacity to understand.

I had pretty much given up on this being some strange fever dream or the result of an overdose of whatever medicine they used in coma patients. I had no idea where I was, how I was here or how I was to escape from being wherever this was, but the countess did. Or, at least, claimed to. She knew my name, and for me, that was enough proof. I hated this…wherever I was, and she was the key to getting the hell out of here and never do anything physical ever again. I may even take up just sitting on one of those chairs they use in the supermarkets the rest of my life, I thought. But to make that happen I needed the angry, beautiful madwoman glaring at the world outside the carriage. I hated that I needed her, but I hated the notion of being stuck here for the rest of however many lives I had left even more. After all, I reasoned, I had anime to binge, manga to read and loving students to return to, bright and eager to ignore everything I tried to teach them.

The carriage reached the Countess’ mansion, and we made our way inside, the cool of the impressive main hall a stark contrast from the warmth outside. The vaulted ceiling of the hall made the space seem even more expansive than it already was. Though not as large as the hall the Prince had set up for himself, it also wasn’t as ostentatious or seemingly designed to be over-compensating as the Prince’s throne room, either. It seemed noble and austere with just the proper amount of elegance and a touch of whimsy. I seriously doubted the Countess, who had the emotional warmth of a snow pea, had decorated it. Still, it was much more inviting.

“I need to tinkle!” Sayuri declared suddenly, bouncing off in the direction of my room at the end of the hall.

“Is-uh…is she housebroken?” I asked, staring after Sayuri as she disappeared around a corner.

“I…” the Countess scowled slightly as if she’d never thought about it before. “I honestly have no idea. I think she must be.”

“She’d better not be peeing on my bed,” I muttered darkly. “If she is I’ll-“

“Ah, my lady, you’ve returned,” a woman said, emerging from a room off the hall. I vaguely recognized her from the dungeon but without her weird druid robes I couldn’t be certain. “Their majesties Sascha and Alarice have come to visit. They are…most insistent. Dinner is almost ready. Would you like it served?”

“Of course, they’re here,” Carrisyn sighed. “Yes. Evidently, we are having royal guests for dinner. Do set two extra servings, Mirielle.”

“As you wish, my lady,” the woman, Mirielle, nodded.

“Do you need a pillow?” Mirielle asked me. Sascha smirked at me from across the dining table. I did my best to not scowl but it was taking all I had. The table was at the level of my chin and I struggled to see over my bowl of soup.

“I need a phone book or something,” I mumbled to myself, squirming in my chair to try to find any height whatsoever. Finally, I nodded to Mirielle, trying to ignore the princess’ broadening grin. The humiliation of standing while two pillows were put on my chair made my face burn in embarrassment. I had the impression I was on display, that feeling was only heightened when Sayuri padded into the dining room and waved to me as she made her way to the seat beside me.

“Too short to eat?” She asked brightly. “I used to be like that when I was a kitten.” I sighed and hung my head, finally sitting back down on the pillows. I swished the salad on my plate from side to side forlornly. “Ew!” Sayuri wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Produce!” Carrisyn cocked an eyebrow at Sayuri but said nothing. “Do you want it?” Sayuri prompted, pushing the plate my way. I shook my head but kept quiet, eyes focused on my own plate.

“I heard our poor, dear Drudge committed suicide,” Sascha grinned, fixing me with a knowing glance. “Poor fellow fell on some daggers a few dozen times. Evidently his helpers, bereft of his peerless leadership and support, similarly committed themselves to the ever after. I don’t suppose you know anything about that do you, my dear Countess?”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Carrisyn replied evenly. Guilt settled in like a blanket and my face flushed hot. The memories rushed through my mind like a freight train, and I sunk back in the chair trying to let them pass.

“Evidently his little helpers were attacked by an animal of some kind a bit earlier that same night. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone had targeted the royal executioner and his assistants,” Sascha sipped her wine. “What ever could have happened to those poor fellows. Do you have any idea, Sayuri?” The catgirl glanced up from the plate of salad she was making faces at and blinked blankly.

“Idea?” I glanced over at Carrisyn and saw her eyes narrow dangerously.

“About whom might have killed Drudge’s assistants?” Sascha smirked, well aware of what she was doing.

“Oh! Hai! They were bad and hurt Ashvallen, so I made it so they couldn’t anymore.” Sayuri nodded in satisfaction. Carrisyn sighed in a mix of frustration and anger. I nearly cried I was so touched and put my hand on Sayuri’s arm gratefully. She turned to me and smiled. I glanced at her ears and renewed my vow to give them a proper petting.

“Well, you’re not wrong and you did good,” Sascha praised her.

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“Okie!” Sayuri beamed proudly. Sascha ignored the angry jab from her sister and turned the full glow of her smirk to Carrisyn. The Countess was quiet for a long moment before finally sighing.

“Since we are, apparently, being so very honest at the moment, I may as well continue the trend. Though I can well guess to whom and what I owe this visit, I’m not certain what you are hoping to accomplish, your highnesses,” Carrisyn said, picking a radish out of her salad with a fork and daintily bringing it to her mouth.

“Please!” Sascha held her hands up. “No need to stand on formality! We are going to be spending quite some time together, after all.” I glanced over at who I could only assume to be Sascha’s sister. Taller and thinner and less well-endowed than her sister she had the air of someone who put up with no crap. Her sky-blue eyes pierced everything they touched upon, and they were, currently, focused on me. Her gaze made me feel like a bug under a microscope and I didn’t care for it.

“We’re to accompany you to retrieve the Dawnblade,” Sascha continued, nodding in gratitude at Mirielle as the woman filled her glass with a deep red wine. “Which you obviously knew was going to happen. We’re merely trying to find a measure of the capabilities of those we’ll soon be traveling with.”

“I suspected, yes,” Carrisyn nodded, chewing thoughtfully. “Just as I surmise you’re aware of the position your brother has put me in.”

“Whatever could you mean?” Sascha asked, handing her untouched plate of salad to Mirielle.

“Since, as you say, there’s no need for formality, let’s cut the bullshit, then, shall we?” Carrisyn put her fork down with a clink on the plate. I glanced over at her, such harsh language from the Ice Queen, I thought. She must be super pissed. Sascha’s grin never faltered, though she raised one eyebrow in apparent surprise. “How long have you three been planning to kill the king and when did you decide to fuck me over to accomplish it?”

“Mind your tongue, witch,” Alarice warned, eyes narrowing to slits. Her voice was quiet and soft, but the hint of danger was plainly evident.

“That will not be happening,” Carrisyn retorted coolly. Oooh! I thought with interest. A pissing contest! Fight! Fight! Fight!

“Now, now,” Sascha put her hand over her sister’s and brushed her thumb reassuringly over the other’s wrist. “Let’s hear dear Carrisyn out.”

“You’ve left me little choice but to agree to your scheme,” Carrisyn continued. “If I decline or the King finds out, you simply push me forward as the leader of your little cabal. The ‘help’ I’ve been afforded becomes public knowledge and I’m led to the gallows, and you three continue your defenders of the kingdom charade while you look for someone else to rope into doing your bidding. Or am I wrong?”

“We are the defenders of this kingdom,” Alarice protested, her quiet voice growing angrier. Sascha patted her sister’s hand again soothingly.

“Am I wrong?” Carrisyn demanded, ignoring Alarice and keeping her attention on the more buxom of the sisters. Mirielle reappeared, setting plates down in front of each of us containing something which looked for all the world like a steak. I had no idea what animal the cut of meat had originated from, but I was fine assuming it was cow. Not that it mattered with as ravenous as I was.  

In my own body in my own world if I so much as thought about a donut I gained two kilos. In this body it didn’t seem to matter. I paused as I began to cut through my meat and stared at the steak on the princesses’ plates. My face twisted into a mask of disgust. The meat looked as if it had a better than average chance of not only getting up on its own but also successfully making an escape. While not enough to put me off my own steak, it was certainly unusual, I thought. Not to mention probably dangerous with bugs and germs and diseases or whatever you caught from raw meat. The tension in the air was palpable but as it wasn’t directed at me, I was content to sit back and watch the fireworks.

“Not enough to split hairs over,” Sascha admitted, thanking Mirielle. “I’m not seeing the problem, Carrisyn dear.”

“You don’t see the problem in being roped into regicide?”

“You, ultimately, get whatever you want, we achieve what we want and the only one coming out the worse for the arrangement is daddy dear. He’s had a good run, but two hundred years is long enough to figure out he’s simply not cut out to hold the throne.”

“Huh?” I gaped at the princess; my fork stuck halfway to my mouth. “Two hundred years? How’s that even possible?” Sascha popped a bite of meat in her mouth, a dribble of blood appearing on her luscious lips.

“200 years for a vampire is nothing, my lovely half-elf,” Sascha grinned, exposing her syringe-sharp canines.

“Eh?” I stared at her.

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