-Felix-

Leaning against the window, I knew I was leaving a greasy forehead spot on the glass. I didn't care. I'd wanted to stay out drinking longer, but Father had called me back early. He rarely did that, so I supposed it was probably important. Perhaps Mortuary had found Felicity? As the carriage came around the corner and through the gates of my home, I glanced up to see Sir Mortuary walking toward the road. His face was splotchy, and his eyes red. In my drunken haze, I thought the man was crying.

That was highly unlikely. Sir Mortuary was emotionless. All I had gotten from the man were cold glares and one-word answers in the last six months. I didn't think I was particularly brilliant when it came to reading people, but I got the impression that Sir Mortuary hated my guts.

I hadn't personally insulted Mortuary, so it had to have been Father complaining about me. That small assurance that my misbehavior had been noticed was enough to make me smile. I'd been in the capital long enough to see how Emeritus Cecil Lambs' behavior irked the Polaris family, so I'd modeled my debauchery after the eighth-circle mage. However, it had been a bit boring around town for the last five years. Cecil had been deployed to the front lines, and the only excitement had been Holly Freesia running around, telling everyone that Cecil had teleported to her room nightly and had gotten her pregnant.

The carriage stopped in front of the steps to the manor. I waited for the footman to open the door. I couldn't find the handle accurately.

No one really believed Holly, even if they talked like they did. Holly had always been known for exaggerating or lying about easily refutable things. Cecil Lambs was the type of man who showed off and spent money like water. That man remaining quiet while in town was about as likely as the Five Guardians descending from the stars to dance a jig in the square.

I tripped on the steps as I got out.

The footman caught me, which I patted his shoulder for. "Good man," I mumbled and continued into the house to stop in the foyer and stare up the stairs. Blinking hard twice to focus my eyes, I grabbed the banister. I wasn't ashamed to use it to drag myself to the second floor. Father's office was, at least, only a few rooms down from the front entrance. He didn't want to go far to get to his work. He'd always been obsessed with work.

"My Lord," Mister Lindon said.

I looked up from my feet to find the butler standing in front of me with a glass of water on a tray at the top of the stairs. Stumbling up the last three stairs, I looked the man in the eyes and slurred, "Thanks." Taking the water, I downed it. Some spilled on the front of my loose shirt. I never wore my uniform unless I was forced to. I didn't understand how other men found it more comfortable. I liked looking a little more stylish.

I moved to set the glass back on the tray, but Lindon caught my hand, taking it from me before I missed and dropped it on the floor.

Laughing, I patted Lindon’s shoulders with both hands and stumbled past him down the hall. A new obstacle barred my path, though.

Kincade lay in the middle of the hall on his side, spread out, tail tapping. The Main Coon lounged like a murderer waiting for his mark to enter the bar. The cat's yellow eyes and medallion on his collar glowed in the dim light of the manastone lamps.

"Foul beast." This war with the cat had started six months ago. Though Kincade was already well known for not liking anyone but Father. 

I walked the last few paces without stumbling and carefully stepped over the cat to get to the door.

Kincade rolled over and latched into my ankle, kicking with his back feet and wrecking another set of suede boots. Off-balance, I hit the office door. I tumbled in, not expecting it to be open, landing against the wingback chair.

"Ungraceful as ever," Father intoned from where he stood at his desk. He was leaning on his hands.

"Your cat attacked me." I knew it would never be a good defense, according to Father, but it was the truth.

Kincade jumped onto Father's desk and stomped across the papers, throwing his fluffy white tail into Father's face as he demanded pets. Father automatically stroked the cat as he straightened and stared at me. "Sir Mortuary made his final report."

"So...?" I asked slowly.

"He suggested that your sister is dead, and if she is alive, she wouldn't want anything to do with me. Sir Mortuary concluded that I abandoned your sister here. You were left here as well. Is that how you see it?"

I blinked at Father. My heart immediately agreed with Sir Mortuary’s assessment of Felicity feeling abandoned. I’d felt abandoned as well. Keith Lyon looked... angry. However, I wasn't really familiar with my father's expressions, having not seen him for the last ten years. Before that, Duke Lyon had been generally stoic about everything. "Well... what was in the report then?" I asked.

"Your aunt embezzled the money I paid her for the care of your sister. She stole from the crown. She stole citizens of Vandenfree and sold them to Jurrai slavers and sent the money to Prannis to fund their war against us." Duke Lyon picked up the report. "Sir Mortuary wrote three lines concerning your sister. He stated that Felicity Lyon arrived on the twelfth of June at six PM, year two-oh-eight. Witnesses within the house testified to seeing Karen Flowers dragging the girl by her hair to the basement, leaving a trail of blood. Felicity Lyon was assisted in leaving the basement by a stableboy in the year two-eleven."

I squeezed my eyes shut. That... was certainly not the news I was expecting to hear tonight. "Fel... was locked in a basement for three years?" I asked.

"Is that what you are taking from that statement?" Father asked.

"Well, that's what it says. Felicity was taken to the basement and didn't leave until two-eleven."

"The prior sentence does not list a date when the incident occurred. Perhaps she was only there for a night," Father said, looking at the papers again, scowling. "Sir Mortuary did not perform his assigned task. While this information is useful, it does not answer my question. In the years of his service, I'm astounded that he would botch a job so fully. This was a deliberate choice on his part. I know it. Do you know why?"

I stared. 

Kincade pushed his face against the papers and tried to bite them.

Honestly, I was too drunk to even come up with an answer that made any sense. My brain bumbled into thinking that Mortuary hadn't answered the question because the answer should've been evident.

"You're thinking very hard, Felix," Father said. "I want to know what you are thinking."

"Sir Mortuary gave me this look once when I asked him something I should've known the answer to already," I said. "In my defense, I was drunk. But it was kind of a stupid question."

"Did he answer your question?"

"No. He left me there, looking stupid." I rubbed the back of my neck, still feeling the burn of that stare months later.

Father picked up another paper from his desk and scowled at it.

Now, I was churning it in the back of my mind. Mortuary had been specifically asked to find Felicity. He'd answered in three lines that Felicity had escaped Aunt Karen's basement three years after arriving. Mortuary had suggested Felicity was dead. Despite living in the city for the last ten years, I hadn't made much effort to visit Aunt Karen. She was incredibly unpleasant, and every time I came by, I'd been told Felicity was unavailable. She was visiting friends. She was shopping. She was out. But no one had seen her, I realized.

"You're thinking very hard again," Father said.

"I tried asking about who Felicity's friends were a while ago. Aunt Karen always said she was out whenever I tried to visit. But no one had seen Felicity. They didn't know who she was. She may as well have not been in the city at all."

Pain tightened my chest. Felicity had escaped that basement in two-eleven. I arrived in town two years later. While Felicity had taken sword classes in my stead, I didn't think she had what it took to live in the streets. She was a noblewoman. "She's probably dead," I said, my voice cracking. "And I never really pressed to see her..." Now, my night was officially ruined.

"If she's dead, then she died before I left you here," Father said distastefully. "Why are you crying?"

"I'm not allowed to mourn my sister?" I asked, looking at the duke. Of course not, I realized. Felicity hadn't been allowed to mourn Mother. She'd been thrown into a carriage without even packing and sent south before the funeral. I had stood alone as the casket was lowered into the ground for three minutes before the guard I’d slipped away from caught me and dragged me back inside. My sword lessons had increased from three hours a day to six, and since I hadn't been attending them the whole time, it was brutal. After that, I'd not even seen my father at meal times. Father had given up even pretending to care about the family.

Pushing off the chair, I looked at the report and the pile of letters beside it. 

Felicity's handwriting had always fascinated me. She had a peculiar way of adding curls to her uppercase cross bars. The letters lacked that distinct feature, but the report...?

"You're dismissed," Lyon said.

Glad that I was allowed to leave since I was starting to feel a little queasy, I stumbled from the room. Another thought crossed my mind, though.

What if this was a Dumb Question, and the answer was that Sir Mortuary was Felicity?

Surely not. Sir Mortuary walked like a man and talked like a man. Those scars on his face were hideous. Surely Felicity wouldn't leave her face like that? Surely, she wouldn't cut her hair within a few inches of her scalp like that?

I reached my bedroom without mishap. Leaning against the door, I bit my lower lip. "But the streets are rough," I muttered.

Would she do whatever it took to survive?

Stumbling to my bed, I stripped and crawled in. This was something I’d have to think about in the morning after I was sober and my hangover taken care of.

One thing I did know was that Felicity had always been my shield. She'd stood up to wild dogs for me. She'd stood up to Father for me. She was strong. She'd give it everything she had to survive on the street, but I didn't know if that would be enough.

I fell asleep before coming to an answer to that final question.