The Bell Tolls for Me

"On this day, we commit the body of Camilla of Dovhain to the earth," the archbishop said solemnly, presiding over the ceremony with all the dignity that his station demanded.

Isabella looked upon the casket that housed the long-degraded body of her mother with complicated emotions. After that vision, she felt as fragile as a sculpture of glass. She had tenacity enough to come here and put on a brave face, but she felt like crawling back on the bed she'd awoken in and staring at the ceiling to wait out the storm in her head.

She'd shared her conversation with the monkey mage and the vision with Valerio, which partially helped to clarify her thoughts. He was angry at first that she'd sought out Sosen, but in time she saw his anger was born only of his concern for her. She recalled his words this morning, as he sat on the edge of her bed.

"I fear more than anything losing you," he'd said. "In either of the two ways it could happen."

Isabella had been confused on what he meant by two ways, but thinking of the contents of her vision banished that confusion. She assured him that the Arthur who had affection for her—if indeed he even existed and wasn't a fabrication of her mind—was long gone, and the only man who she bore any romantic affection for was him.

Perhaps she hadn't gotten through to him fully, however, because Valerio lingered closely beside her. She could hear him turn his head to look at Arthur, also in attendance at the funeral. His obvious possessiveness was dually annoying and warming. She positioned herself to speak to him.

"I've been thinking about what Arthur speculated of," Isabella spoke to Valerio in a whisper, drawing his attention. "They say that no woman ever refused the advances of Edgar the Great. Perhaps that wasn't the case. Perhaps they had refused him thousands of times, yet all that mattered was the single 'yes' that he received."

"But…" Valerio looked down at her, debating something in his head. "Supposing his trigger is death… does that mean he killed himself whenever a woman refused him?"

Isabella turned her head to look at Valerio incredulously. The mere idea of her father taking his life whenever refused sparked some secret amusement and glee. She bit her lip, however, and suppressed those thoughts by applying it to her own mother. How many times had Camilla rejected Edgar before he discovered how to manipulate her completely? Perhaps she rebuffed him thousands of times, and he had only earned her hand in marriage by coercion. She clung to that idea like nothing else. To die a thousand deaths in pursuit of this dynasty—he deserved nothing less.

In the end, none of that mattered. Her mother was long dead, and Isabella never had the chance to know her.

Despite their relation, this funeral actually wasn't Isabella's idea. It was Bernadetta's, whose incredibly deep machinations had been partially revealed in that vision. This event was entirely funded by Prince Anselm, and was nothing more than a public show to demonstrate his ties to Isabella. The repast afterward would be held at his estate, where they would finally discuss how to end Albert. Toward that, too, complicated feelings bubbled.

"Are you well?" asked a familiar voice.

Isabella turned her head to spot Abigail. She was endlessly relieved to see her up and about again. "I believe I should be asking you that question."

"I'm… better," Abigail managed. She looked at the casket. "Did you know your mother?"

"I didn't know her."

"Yet it still hurts," Abigail said. "At least… I do, when I think of mine."

There was tacit understanding between them in that moment—a shared circumstance evoking feelings that couldn't be expressed by words.

"It's good to see you again." Isabella acknowledged Abigail by touching her hand upon her wrist. "I missed you."

Abigail didn't smile, but she seemed brighter. They shared a few moments of quietude as the archbishop committed the body to the ground.

"My father was very uncertain about attending this event, given who was funding it," Abigail said after a time. "He was… unsettled. He was worried that, perhaps, you… doubted my…"

"I haven't forgotten what we discussed, and I believe you," Isabella confirmed, and Valerio looked at her curiously. He wasn't privy to the details—Abigail had requested her secret be kept, and Isabella took that promise seriously. "I simply wanted to fold him in on an operation against one of the other claimants."

"I see." Abigail nodded. "He's always kept me removed from the politics. I never complained. But… now, I insisted to take part."

Isabella looked over. "Why?"

"Because you're at the center of things. I'm worried about you," Abigail said.

Isabella couldn't come up with a response. Inwardly, she felt a little secret triumph. She was almost eager to introduce Abigail to Bernadetta. It was some manner of petty revenge, perhaps. Showing off her new friend, far superior to Bernadetta in every capacity.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Well… perhaps that was an exaggeration. In Isabella's last life, it seemed that Bernadetta had actually won the throne.

***

Not long after Camilla's casket was interred into the royal mausoleum, Isabella attended the repast alongside Valerio.

"You look nice in black," Valerio said as he escorted her, his arm around hers. "Still, I hope it's not a color you have to wear often."

"Given how large the family is…" Isabella trailed off when she realized she was being morbid, and then shook her head. "Never mind. I should warn you… I think that I have to take some more dramatic measures to prepare for the worst-case scenario."

"Dramatic?" Valerio repeated.

"I think… I shouldn't preclude the option of leaving the kingdom entirely, should it come to that." Isabella shook her head. "For now, let's focus on this meeting. I'm not quite sure what Bernadetta wants in return for Albert's destruction. I've been underestimating her. I'm hoping that Archduke Felix will serve as a counterweight to whatever espionage efforts Bernadetta has established."

"That's prudent. The larger conspiracies get, though, the more our chances of exposure rise. I'm not certain that Bernadetta will be pleased, either," Valerio noted.

"Her pleasure is at least of my concerns." Isabella gestured ahead. "We're late. They're waiting for us."

As she made her way through the mansion, she was surprised by someone. Arthur of Hamore stepped out to greet her.

"Your Highness," he greeted formally in public. Somehow, just seeing Arthur was… different. Isabella found herself without words as the vision of him crying over her body played in her mind. "If possible, I was wondering if we might speak on a certain subject."

Valerio put a hand on her shoulder—she couldn't see his face, but assumed it was stern and cold. She replied just as formally as he had, saying, "Pray forgive me, Arthur, but I'm already tardy for a prior appointment."

"Oh. Of course," Arthur said, dipping his head. From his face, he could tell the strangeness of the interaction as well as they could.

Isabella and Valerio walked through the austere halls of Prince Anselm's estate wordlessly from thereon. She opened the door to the dressing room that they had agreed to meet after the funeral. Archduke Felix, Abigail, Bernadetta, and Prince Anselm were already here. Looking at Bernadetta, that vision ran through her head. Her cousin, Queen Regent of Dovhain. Was she already collaborating with Edgar the Great?

Isabella looked around, but…

"Where is Sylvain?" Isabella asked as she entered. "I thought I was late, but I don't know him to be."

"Likely got distracted reading a rulebook," Valerio said dryly as he entered just behind her.

"Sylvain won't be attending," Felix explained. "He elected to depart early. He's never enjoyed these sorts of events. Rest assured he's given me the full authority to make decisions on his behalf regarding this matter." Archduke Felix regarded Bernadetta and Anselm evenly. "I'm very eager to hear what this is about. They've not spoken a word, despite my insistence."

"We haven't spoken because my business isn't with you." Bernadetta rose to her feet, where she grabbed a bottle of fine liquor and poured it out for herself. Anselm didn't seem to care in the slightest. "But… having your assistance in this matter won't necessarily hurt. You are, for want of a better term, the third leg. Neither a hindrance nor a help." She looked at Isabella. "The princess regent is all we need."

Isabella shut the door. "We intend to eliminate Duke Albert from the fight immediately," she summarized at once. "A complete annihilation, culminating in a great strengthening of royal authority after we nationalize his territories. Bernadetta swears she can manifest this reality, but seeing as it benefits all of us and I trust her less than a booze-drinking monkey, I thought to convene this meeting."

Valerio snorted at the mention of a booze-drinking monkey.

"If Albert could be so easily brought low, it would've happened long ago," Felix asserted. "I hardly even know who this woman is."

"Because I'm very good at what I do," Bernadetta asserted, taking a light drink. "Regardless… it doesn't matter. Everything is already in place—you and Isabella need merely play along with the dance. Prince Edouard is presently bleeding from every orifice after being poisoned working for men under the employ of Prince Roland."

Felix scoffed and shook his head. "That's preposterous."

"Fret not. I'll have one of my agents deliver word to one of yours soon enough, and word will come back to you," she said flatly.

Isabella looked at Abigail, wondering if the young woman had seen Edouard recently. Abigail shook her head lightly, though not with the conviction Isabella was hoping for.

"Albert, naturally, is too smart to leave a direct lead back to him…" Bernadetta sat on couch elegantly. "But he'll crumble, so long as we follow my plan."

"Your plan?" Valerio said contemptuously.

There were three knocks on the door. "Archduke Felix? An urgent missive, sir. The deliverer insisted."

They all looked between each other, each guessing at what that 'urgent missive' might be speaking of. Felix glared at Bernadetta with newfound hostility and caution, as if an of-yet unknown foe suddenly revealed themselves.

"Take your time," Bernadetta said.

***

Isabella kneaded her palm with their thumb nervously as she stared up at an all-too-familiar estate. This was a place that she'd never hoped to come to once more.

Duke Albert's estate in the capital loomed overhead.

It could almost be compared to the Royal Palace, so grand was its construction. The only thing making it seem lesser was the fact that it hid within one of the lower quarters of the city, while the palace stood on high atop its hill. Even the entrance made of decadent white marble. At this time of day, it seemed like a palace to the gods.

Isabella thought that no words, no plan, could ever convince her to willingly come here. And yet here she was, walking forth into the jaws of the beast on the word of the doppelganger. Not to be eaten, like before… but to step within and pierce that beating heart forevermore. She hadn't dared dream to put an end to Albert personally, and yet… now, today, that opportunity had come. But this hadn't been part of Bernadetta's plan. Rather, it was Isabella's alone.

The only way to be sure a beast died was to kill it yourself.