Chapter 89: Trish Fillaunete

The carriage rolled to a stop before the Brimstone estate, and I didn’t wait for the driver to help me down.

That was a mistake.

My legs buckled the moment my boots hit the gravel. I caught myself on the carriage door, fingers digging into the wood frame hard enough to splinter it, and forced myself upright through sheer stubbornness.

The driver pretended not to notice. Smart man.

"Thank you," I managed, already dreading the walk to the front doors.

The news from the Federation had traveled faster than we had. Anna had been intercepted at the city gates by a Rose family retainer practically vibrating with panic; her mother had heard about the "Citadel incident" and demanded her daughter return home immediately.

Lillith had received a similar summons from House Crimson, though hers had been delivered by a messenger who’d taken one look at her new golden-streaked eyes and promptly forgotten how to speak.

So I was alone. Limping up the gravel path toward the estate I’d inherited from a dead man, still weak enough that a stiff breeze might knock me over.

The phantom ache in my neck had faded, at least. Small mercies.

The front doors opened before I reached them. A maid I didn’t recognize stood in the doorway, her face pale, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

"L-Lord Brimstone. Welcome home."

"Thank you."

I stepped past her, into the foyer, and noticed she didn’t move to take my coat. She just stood there, watching me with wide eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

"N-No, my lord. Nothing’s wrong."

She was lying. Her voice shook on every word.

I filed that away and headed for the stairs, one hand braced against the banister. Each step sent a dull ache through my legs, but I forced myself upward anyway.

The second-floor hallway was quieter than it should have been, no servants bustling about, no distant clatter from the kitchens. Just silence and the faint smell of smoke.

Halfway down the hall, I found my father.

He was leaning against the wall outside his study, a cigarette burning between his fingers, his eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance. His usually immaculate hair was disheveled, his collar loose, and the dark circles under his eyes made him look like he hadn’t slept in days.

"Father?"

He turned his head slowly, as if the motion took considerable effort.

"Reyn. So you’re back." He took a long drag from his cigarette and exhaled. "I’m guessing you’re wondering why I look like this."

"Anyone would wonder, Father."

"Lady Fillaunete." He said her name with a strange mix of exhaustion and admiration. "She’s been thorough. Bombarded me with so many plans I couldn’t even sleep. And it wasn’t like I could refuse; they were too good. They even made sleep look inferior."

He laughed, a satisfied but tired sound, and pushed himself off the wall.

"You’ve done well, bringing her to Brimstone’s side, Reyn."

He walked back into his study and calmly locked the door behind him.

I stared at the closed door for a moment, then shook my head. That was certainly... unique.

The hallway stretched ahead of me, long and quiet and wrong.

I’d walked this corridor a hundred times since waking up in this body. It was never silent. Servants moved through it constantly, carrying linens, delivering meals, gossiping in the corners when they thought no one was listening.

Now it felt like a tomb.

The door to my room was at the end of the hall. Closed, with no light spilling beneath it.

I stopped in front of it and listened. My enhanced hearing was still recovering, but even without it, I could pick up the faintest sound of breathing from inside.

I opened the door.

The room was dark, lit only by a single candle on the nightstand, and Trish was sitting on the edge of my bed.

She wasn’t in her maid’s uniform.

The dress she wore was deep violet, almost black in the low light, cut high at the collar and low at the hem, the kind of thing a noblewoman wore when she wanted to be looked at.

Her silver hair was loose, spilling over her shoulders. Her legs were crossed, one hand resting on her knee, the other holding a small ledger against her thigh.

She looked up when I entered, and her violet eyes caught the candlelight like polished gemstones.

"Reyn."

Her voice was soft. Not the warm, eager tone she used when greeting me in the mornings. Not the quiet, determined voice she used when discussing the bank.

This was something else entirely.

"The Bank of Aurion is gone. The Aurion family is all dead, and the bank itself is now under Brimstone ownership."

Brimstone ownership!?

"You wouldn’t believe the plans they had for you..."

She stared directly into the candlelight.

"Torture. Murder. Kidnapping. Blackmail. And worse. It wasn’t even limited to you; they were targeting House Rose. Your siblings. Everything and everyone important to you."

Trish sighed, then giggled.

"And now? They’re gone."

The candlelight caught the edge of her smile, and for a moment, she looked more like the villainess the novel had always intended her to become.

Having her take care of the Bank had paid off. She had fully snapped.

"That’s..."

I didn’t finish the sentence. She already knew what I was going to say, and she was enjoying the hesitation far too much.

"Thorough?" she offered.

"That works."

She laughed.

"You should sit down. You look like you’re about to collapse."

"I’m fine."

"While gripping the doorframe?"

I looked down. I was, in fact, gripping the doorframe. My knuckles had gone white, and the wood was starting to creak under the pressure.

"Okay. Maybe not fully fine."

I pushed off the frame and crossed the room, each step a small negotiation with my legs. Trish watched me the entire way, her violet eyes tracking my progress with the kind of patient attention that made me feel like I was being measured for something.

When I finally reached the bed, she shifted aside just enough for me to sit down. The mattress dipped under my weight, and I had to brace my hands against the edge to keep from falling backward.

"You look worse than when you left."

"The Citadel was... eventful."

Trish leaned closer to me, her eyes narrowing.

"You’re drained of magic. What happened?"

"You didn’t hear the news?"

"News?"

Trish looked slightly surprised. I’m guessing she hadn’t checked or bothered to listen. Looks like they were too busy dealing with the bank to notice what was going on with the rest of the world.