Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Chapter 180 - 180 Ch. 179: The Illuminati

180 Ch. 179: The Illuminati

I consider telling Emma to run him through with my dagger, but she isn’t here, unfortunately. Instead, I fall back on an old classic quote from Catholic school while we sit in the quiet luxury of his considerably stripped-down apartments compared to my own.

The bare furnishings include a soft lambskin rug beneath our feet, a vintage set of armor propped up near the wall, and a landscape painting from an artist who was especially popular a few years ago.

“Ask and thou shalt receive,” I recite aloud. “I don’t suppose you ever thought about asking nicely, hmmm?”

My older brother’s smile broadens as he sits up in the low lounge chair he sits in across from me. The chairs must be imported from the Old Continent, with a brass finish on the bow-like legs that is unlike anything I’ve seen in Radovalsk.

“Matthew. Chapter 7, verse 7, correct?” he crows with pride.

“So you were a god-fearing man. I couldn’t tell.” I purse my lips at the irony.

“My momma wouldn’t have ever let me get away with skipping Sunday school.”

“Mine neither. Catholic school?” I lob at him.

“From grade school until graduation. You?” he tosses back.

.....

“Middle school and high school. You must have been a Southern boy,” I remark. Having gone to a university in the Bible Belt of America, his educational background sounds very familiar to many of the classmates I encountered in college.

He puts his hands up like he’s been caught red-handed. “Guilty as charged.”

“I must admit, I have not really felt your Southern hospitality. Your ‘momma’ would be disappointed.”

“She’s not around anymore,” Julian sighs.

“Well, you’ve gone and found yourself a handy replacement.” It’s an unkind, unsympathetic response that brings an end to our ruminations of the past.

No doubt left with a bad taste in his mouth, Julian doesn’t dance around his demands anymore. “About my request.”

“What about it?” I ask, deliberately obtuse. “You sound like a madman, detaining my staff for a fantasy.”

Julian chortles, bringing up his ankle to rest on his knee in a picture of feigned relaxation. “A fantasy? Really?”

His smile melts away as he seems to realize something, leaving behind a cold, stark mask that is far too old for his still teenage face.

“Out! Everyone out now!” he barks fiercely at the few staff who linger by the walls and had served the refreshments before us just now.

As everyone scurries out like rats exposed to the light, I lazily pick at my nails, which are covered in a light pink varnish.

“Looks like you thought yourself far more clever than you actually are.” I flick away an invisible piece of dirt.

Julian glowers from across from me and this time I cannot stop my own taunting smile from emerging across my face.

“How did you know?” he asks. I can hear the rest of his unspoken question: How did I know that he had intended to lure me out of my chambers and have my wayward, spy of an attendant steal my secret book from under my nose while I run off to save Marie?

“You gave it away, idiot. Mother would never go out of her way to punish servants so audaciously without there being an underlying desire. You would’ve been better off choosing someone less clever, like Julia. And even then...” my voice trails off and I smirk as I think of my newly changed half-sister.

I have no doubt that Emma managed to stop the thieving attendant, but this crazy episode has proven her point from less than an hour ago about how dangerous my book is ten times over.

It would be wise for me to commit the important sections to memory and get rid of it sooner rather than later, after all, I am not at a loss at how tantalizing some of the information within its heavy leather cover truly is.

Julian taps his finger on his chair in frustration. I’m sure his thoughts are going a mile a minute in his head, but the silence is uncomfortable so I offer up my own question.

“So how did you hear about the book? That traitorous little attendant of mine didn’t even know about it, I never read it around her,” I point out, no longer bothering to pretend the book about forbidden magic doesn’t exist.

“Does it matter?” His nonchalance causes my fake inquisitive act to bristle into a fiercer, very real rage.

“Fine. Then you’ll just have to satisfy yourself with nothing you good-for-nothing, lousy, lying delinquent!” I rise halfway to my feet, so eager am I to grab the front of his shirt and shake some sense into him.

Instead, I settle for the next best thing and Julian is treated to my wagging finger in his darkening face. “You are a real son of a bitch, you lousy piece of shit.”

I’ve never cared for the term ‘son of a bitch’ as I’ve long considered it an insult with a misplaced target. But in this case, it feels quite apt. As I’ve learned once again today, like mother, like son.

Julian lets out a long sigh and throws his hands up in exasperation.

“Enough!” he shouts in my face, before taking a moment to collect himself and continue in a softer tone, “What do you want for it, Winnie? How much will it cost?”

I let out a dry laugh to hide my irritation that grows like an unstoppable wave. “So when good old-fashioned theft doesn’t work, now you want to be honest and bargain? I bet you were a businessman in your past life.” I slink back to my chair and fall into it with a disbelieving plop.

Julian knows how hypocritical he looks at the moment so he doesn’t respond, but his tapping foot betrays his own anger. Having said my piece, I take the chance to take a good, long look at the man Julian has nearly become.

My half-brother, although he barely deserves that title, seems incredibly out of sorts on this fine day. The uncharacteristic actions from him these past 2 or so years have finally come to a head and although I said I would look the other way, it clearly will not be a good idea to remain clueless about his shenanigans.

“So now what?” Julian gripes as my hard, accusatory stare doesn’t let up an inch.

“Now you will tell me why you want my book so bad. And now,” I smack my chair for emphasis, “you will tell me what the hell you have been up to during these past several months!”

Julian’s lips press into a thin line so tight it would require surgery to pry them open. There’s something evasive lurking on his face that is rather similar to my own.

Preparing for the worst, I can’t help but whisper, “Is it drugs?”

“What? No!” Julian looks offended. “Are there even drugs here?”

“Julian, I don’t think there is a single universe where humans haven’t found a way to create an addictive drug out of nature’s bounty.” I roll my eyes, hard.

I know that Julian has not paid much attention to the lives of those who aren’t affluent and well-connected nobility, but I’ve heard from Emma the strange new drugs that have slowly begun to eat away at the slums I’d once lived in years ago. I’ve seen for myself the ravaging effects they can have on the human body time and time again when they come to the Grand Temple on the rare occasions I am present. But I suppose unless it’s affecting his wealthy brood, he wouldn’t care about such things. The lying boomer must’ve been a rich, stuck-up asshole in his past life too.

Something flickers in Julian’s eyes, although I can’t tell what part of my statement triggered his deep thoughts. “Well, I would never,” he emphasizes in a softer tone.

“Ok then, what is it? It must be something bit with how secretive you’ve been. Tell me.”

“I can’t.” Julian crosses his arms over his chest like a stubborn child.

“Why? Because if you told me you’d have to kill me?” I sarcastically retort.

It’s a poor attempt at humor, but an uncomfortable silence permeates the air, causing it to fall flat in a frightening way. I look at the dying carcass of my joke on the ground, then up at Julian in utter shock as he meets my disbelieving gaze with his unwavering stare.

“Wow...” I let out a low whistle. My eyes fall away from his to hide the embarrassing emotion that wells up even though we buried our once close relationship long ago. My body’s been submerged in ice even though the summer heat that snuck into this spacious living area is sweat-inducing.

The past me that had lectured Augustus so self-righteously that family takes a back seat to political interests in the imperial family is getting a lesson of her own today.

“You know, no matter how much you’ve pissed me off, I would never dare harm you in that way,” I point out, my voice less forceful than I would have preferred. I sound like I’ve taken a hard hit in the gut when I’m supposed to be the one dealing out all the punches today.

Have I been too good? Am I too nice? All along, I’ve always thought that I am handling my opponents with the same ferocity and cunning they have shown me, and even that frightened me greatly. But now I’m looking up and realizing that I have more ground to make up than I thought in this race I’ve been thrust in against my will.

I need to do more, be more. Be worse. Be like Katya.

“It wouldn’t be because I want to. It would be because I don’t have a choice,” Julian says through gritted teeth, cutting through the haze of my torrential thoughts. I almost gasp for air as my oppressive, mocking thoughts relinquish their grasp temporarily.

There’s an ugly insinuation that lingers between his word like a snake in the grass, slow to reveal itself although I can feel the underlying sense of danger. Will I let it bite or will I strike first?

“Ridiculous. There is always a choice,” I argue, testing the grass and trying to get the snake to reveal itself. I pray he isn’t suggesting what I think he’s suggesting: a type of rare, forbidden magic that operates like a contract, forcing those who break its clause to commit something unthinkable either to themselves or others. What kind of insane madness has Julian gotten himself into?

“No Winnie, there isn’t.” There is a finality to his eyes that is jarring to witness. I can see red rimming his drooping eyes, a sure sign of no sleep, and he looks like he’s lost a little weight.

I take a wild swing at the snake with my half-formed hypothesis. “It’s a cult, isn’t it? This sounds like the Illuminati. You don’t have to answer, just keep being quiet if I’m right.”

Julian looks around the room as if searching for peeping eyes or secret eavesdroppers. Having dismissed all the staff in the room before our tiff, I find his actions rather eerie. The seconds tick by and the frantic swivel of his head calms down.

But he says nothing.