"When falsehood can so look like the truth, who can assure themselves of certain happiness?"
—From Frankenstein,
By Mary Shelley

IT WAS ONE IN THE morning when Hugo stumbled into his watch outside the royal chambers, two hours later than he was meant to, but just in time to overhear exactly what he had needed.

Carlyle was not present when he was meant to be on watch... though he had the sneaking suspicion that his apparent friend was on watch. He was simply utilizing a far more intimate method than Hugo himself was. With that thought in mind, he shoved open the heavy wooden door, pleased to find that it was not barred and also snorting at the thought of how foolish it was not to lock one's door. Both disgusted and intrigued, he listened to the noises emanating from the direction of the bedroom.

"Bite me," the queen said.

A bark of laughter. "Are you being quite serious or simply saying it in jest... as a challenge?"

"Why do you ask?" The low tones of seduction reverberated throughout the foyer.

"Once I begin, love..." Something twisted inside of Hugo when he heard that term of endearment used by his alleged friend, twisted until it snapped. He had no choice now. "I won't be able to stop."

"Go on, then." Hugo turned to leave, backing up in the dark and cramped space, nearly tripping over a piece of furniture in his haste to exit, to tell the Lord Regent what he had heard. "Sink your teeth in."

He shoved his way out of the chambers, ignoring the strange looks he received from a passing guard at his appearance: dishevelled hair, flushed cheeks, panting not with exertion but with shame and embarassment and fury. How dare he--Carlyle had--he had no right to put his hands on the queen, on his queen... He had always thought of her as his. He was her informant after all, in addition to the Lord Regent's spy, and Carlyle's pretend friend... She belonged to him. He'd been promised a piece of her.

And yet she spread her legs for Carlyle Lambert. What did that man possess that Hugo did not? Anger pounded in his chest as he ran toward the Lord Regent's chambers. He had been here first. He had been the one to recruit Lambert, a small and frightened child a few years younger than he, into this life, into the military. They had risen the ranks together though Hugo had a touch more seniority, and jealousy had bubbled into resentment. But he had always had the privilege of being the queen's informant. Of working more closely with her than Carlyle did... though that was certainly not true now.

He had thought her his. And she had defiled herself by sleeping with that bastard. Carlyle Lambert had no past, he was perhaps part Atlan due to the freakish magic he had displayed, and he was... he was a nobody compared to Hugo. Hugo was perhaps a second son, but his father at least was a wealthy merchant and his mother a noblewoman whose family had fallen on hard times. Lambert came from nothing. He was an orphan, one of many created by the battle fifteen years ago that had taken the lives of so many including the queen's betrothed.

Carlyle Lambert was nothing. So why had he taken Hugo's everything?

No, not yet he hadn't. He would not take his last advantage, his way of slinking about the manor unseen and unheard and able to report everything seen and heard, his ability to destroy his apparent friend's life with ease. Some might have called him a rat or a traitor, and it was true that he took no pride in what he did, except only a sort of sharp, vicious satisfaction. But he did what he had to do. The Lord Regent had promised him Jovana. He did what he could to take her.

"To what do I owe this... annoyance, Marchand?" the Lord Regent inquired, a tumbler of liquor cupped between his hands as he sat by the fire. The flickering flames ensured that his face was at times illuminated and other times thrown into shadow. "I should hope that nothing too terrible has occurred while you were late for watch or caused you to leave your post."

"I..." he put his hands on his knees, feeling more miserable and wretched now that he was gasping for breath. "I saw him. With her."

"You will have to be a touch more specific, Marchand." Ilyas Durand took a sip of his drink. "There a great deal of people to whom you might be referring, and i've not the time to sift through all of them and play a childish guessing game."

"The queen. In bed with a guard. Carlyle... Lambert." He straightened, waiting for a response from the man.

But nothing seemed to ever shock him; all his words were wind and this man was merely a stone, unbent by any gusts or storms. "Well, how interesting. Thank you for your information, Marchand."

When Hugo did not immediately make to leave, Ilyas Durand arched an eyebrow. "Is there any other knowledge that might benefit the crown, or do you enjoy squandering both your and my time?"

"Your Highness..." he recalled what else he had seen that night. "The queen assisted Kaiden Thorne and Holly Brown in escaping the castle tonight."

"Is that so?" The Lord Regent for once showed some emotion, slamming his now-empty glass down on the table. It shattered, and the flames of the brazier seemed to dance more brightly, leaping higher as though responding to his emotions. Is he... does he also have Atlan magic?

As he slunk back to his post, Hugo wondered what other secrets were being kept around the manor.

///

That morning at breakfast, Carlyle was still there. The man looked thoroughly tired, with dark circles beneath his eyes and a jaw that would not stop unhinging with yawns, but... he was still alive. He hadn't been executed or thrown into any traitor's pits. How? That question burned inside of him, a fire that had no shortage of fuel.

He nudged his friend just as his chin dropped onto his hand, about to sink into the depths of slumber. "Say, where were you last night? We were supposed to be on watch together, Lambert."

Carlyle mumbled something under his breath that Hugo didn't quite catch.

Hugo cupped a hand around his ear for dramatic effect. "What was that?"

He rolled his eyes, taking a sip of black tea. "I said, I was still feeling ill. So I went to bed but I barely slept."

I do not doubt that last line, Hugo thought with a smirk that he quickly covered. He clapped him on the back. "Well, I hope you feel better soon, friend."

He thought about drugging him and seeing to it that the man was truly unwell,
but that seemed to be a waste of time. Surely, Carlyle Lambert's life would be ended soon enough and he would not have his hands dirtied in association with the act.

"Thank you, Hugo." Carlyle broke his bread as his hazel gaze met Hugo's blue one. "In times like these... a true friend is always appreciated."

The slice of his knife into the soft roll seemed too slow to be anything but deliberate. Hugo's throat itched and he inhaled a cup of coffee, nearly choking on the hot liquid in his haste to be rid of his discomfort. Just at that moment, the Lord Regent walked into the room, and Carlyle stiffened, his shoulders tensing and back straightening.

The Lord Regent cleared his throat. There was no need to ask for everyone's attention as if they were in a classroom setting; his mere icy presence was enough to bring down the temperature of the room by a few degrees and cause everyone's heads to snap over to look at him.

"Security needs to be tightened. I will personally be interviewing every guard who was on watch at the dining room because there has been a breach. The king of Atla and his companion have escaped." Ilyas Durand swiveled his gaze around the room before it locked on Carlyle Lambert. "Beginning with you, Lambert."