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Justine hardly ever summoned Marcus. In fact, it’d become an increasingly rare event over the years, only when she was desperate, which she never wanted to truly admit.
Of course, the act of Marcus being summoned was usually the worst part. Like always, she sent her Secretary down to the gate to what she believed was a tiny, dead patch of land with the Great Lake of Boiling Oil next to it, Marcus’s chosen exile of death.
Unfortunately, it was anything but, these days.
A spell to hide Artimé was something he’d practiced many times, of course, something he was prepared to do as it expanded, but it was hardly of use when the person had already seen it. Good against the predictable dates of the governors’ visit and the Purge...not so good against a surprise visit from Justine’s Secretary.
He’d already wiped her mind once. It wasn’t very difficult to do it again.
That was how he found himself in the back of a Quillen car, being taken up to his sister's palace.
The place was just as dreadful as he remembered it. How long had it been, since he'd last been here? Only a handful of months, since the last Purge? It felt so much longer, but he supposed he'd been busy on his side of the wall. The palace was clean, of course; somehow Justine's cleaners were able to keep on top of the dust that coated everything else within the walls. That was about all there was to say about it.
Shaking off Justine's Secretary at the bottom of the stairs, he took the walk up alone, footsteps echoing on the stone. He knew the palace well, even so many years after he'd stopped living here, and he opened the door to Justine's office without knocking.
"Marcus," Justine greeted.
"Hello, sister," he said, taking a knee even though she was turned away from him, gazing out of her office window.
He waited for her to speak, as was polite and customary. Every time he did, he couldn't help but remember their childhood, roughhousing and arguing and dozing together and planning and spitting half-sensical insults at each other. How times have changed.
"A girl snuck in through the wall the other day," Justine finally explained. "There was a crack, it seems, and she slipped right in."
He wasn't sure whether he was meant to be surprised or not. The wall was hardly the finest work, but a crack large enough to fit a girl… "How old?"
"Twelve." Justine's heels clicked across the floor, and her chair squealed as she took a seat. Marcus took it as a sign to finally raise his head and stand at attention.
"So eligible for the next Purge."
"Correct," Justine said, tapping her nails on the table. How uncollected she allowed herself to be, when it was just him! "But as she is an outside force, I can't help but wonder if we should speed that process up."
Marcus nodded, swallowing the venom on his tongue. Hypocrite, he wanted to scream. "The Ancients Sector."
"Right, but…hmm." Justine's hands finally rested, one on top of the other. "It's just…she looks so familiar, with those black eyes. And I've already had one report of her using magic."
Marcus's heart sank, and while he tried to keep his expression neutral, the slight smirk on Justine's face told him that he had been unsuccessful.
"Maiven's daughter was named Nadia, correct?" Justine asked as innocently as she could. "Of course, she's already picked up a new family and last name, but the resemblance is quite uncanny. Difficult to miss."
So that's why she had called him here: to play with him like a piece of prey caught in a trap, to dangle her power over his head and watch him attempt to gnaw his way out. Unfortunately, there wasn't much for him to do besides play along with it. Curse this stupid heart of his.
Truly, as much as he wanted to push aside his feelings—that was what Quill was founded on, after all—he simply couldn't. The evidence of it was just beyond this wall, in fact, the mansion well on its way to completion, to save his daughter. One of them, anyways.
Because, to put it simply, Nadia was his daughter.
Maiven herself had confirmed it; while most people might lie when they said they didn't take other lovers, he knew Maiven was genuine when she said it. The queen of Grimere had little interest in romance. Marcus didn't know why she allowed him around when he visited; she had never explained, and he had never asked. Their affair—if it could really be called that—had started when they were teenagers, and every now and then, Marcus would return to visit and…well. Justine seemed to know all of this, though she would never say it outright.
The resemblance was quite uncanny, indeed. Marcus hadn't seen Nadia or Maiven in years, but he remembered that being the case even when Nadia was young. She was the spitting image of her mother visually, and it seemed that the only trait she'd really inherited from him was her magic. Even as a toddler, Maiven had countless stories of Nadia's tantrums ending with things set on fire, or with birds flocking to the windows. Messenger pigeons, rather than returning to their nests with royal mail, roosted in her bed. Her favorite stuffed animals turned to ashes, which in turn led to even more destruction in her devastation. Maiven never seemed too worried about it, at least, but it was clear which side of the family it had come from.
His sister's black eyes glittered in amusement as she watched him squirm, even if only for a few seconds. He thought of the mansion, of the safe haven he was attempting to build, and almost immediately he realized how suspicious it would sound to agree to Nadia's death, if Justine was already aware of their relationship.
"Are there any other infractions on her record, thus far?" he finally asked.
She sighed, seemingly disappointed that he wasn't going to start begging. "Not yet, but she's hardly had the time. She was reported by another girl her age for sparking eyes and feeding birds; she didn't know what to call it, but I think you and I both know what magic looks like, don't we, dear brother?"
He nodded. "Serious offenses indeed, but if she is willing to stay in line, why not let her stay?"
Justine slammed her fist down on the table. "She's a threat to the safety of Quill," she snapped, her rage, as always, sudden and vicious, but collected and quiet. "She could poison the rest of the youth, tell tales, start their minds whirring. There's already been a witness to her magic."
Marcus was unsurprised and unimpressed by her outburst. A lifetime living with his twin had left her predictable, in his eyes. "True enough."
When he didn't argue back, she continued, "What if she is a spy, Marcus, sent to destroy us from the inside out? She got through the wall, after all; what if she's just biding her time to invite more people in, or to let our people out?"
"She is twelve," Marcus said flatly. "Besides, Maiven would not have parted with her daughter so readily. You and I both know her opinion on multiple heirs. Something must have gone terribly wrong in Grimere; I highly doubt they have anything left to fight us with, if their princess has ended up on our shores."
Justine sneered. "Whatever the case, she is a disruption. The only option is to eliminate her. Preferably as soon as possible, before she starts spreading her ideas."
As if she was harboring some disease. The girl Marcus remembered had sat quietly next to the queen during meetings, little hands folded in an imitation of her mother. He sincerely doubted she was the harbinger of doom that Justine wanted her to be.
"Oh, have some sympathy, dear sister," Marcus said, "at least give her a chance."
Justine shook her head. "No. I've decided. I'll send her to the Ancients Sector."
Marcus's heart skipped a beat. "No!" he shouted on instinct. Then, collecting himself, he continued, "Please, Justine, give her a chance. I'll do whatever you want, if you keep her alive." There: a bargaining chip. Another piece of power for her to have over him, something she could put into play whenever she wanted. She had his sworn loyalty, his devoted love, but those were nothing more than fickle emotions that could grow into hate. In this, he knew they understood each other.
His sister leaned back a bit, standing up straighter. Her head was tilted back the slightest bit so she could look down at him, and after a moment of considering, she sighed. "Alright. I'll give her until the next Purge, then, though she will most certainly end up Unwanted."
A wave of relief washed over Marcus. Really, he should've kept arguing, but he—and Justine as well, it seemed—was satisfied with that answer.
"Never say I don't do anything for you," Justine said, then held up her hand. "That was all. You are dismissed."
Marcus nodded, once, and left without another word.
He wondered whether she really would end up Unwanted, or if Justine would perhaps change her mind and overlook more rules in order to keep Nadia in her back pocket. Claire, he knew, was most certainly doomed; the two had yet to discuss her fate, but he had seen her files when deciding Unwanteds in previous years. Something would be required to balance Justine's kindness today, and he was now more certain than ever that Claire would end up on the chopping block, to prove a point, if nothing else.
So he really needed to get to work on finishing the mansion, didn't he?