Ch. 15 - Oliver, Queen's Trusted Butler

Damien pulled Naomi up. The halls were still pitch black, and at that point, they'd lost the old butler that had been following behind them. He was called Oliver, or something. Damien didn't care that much, especially after Naomi took on a hostile stance towards him.

Damien saw right through him. Naomi was the very least of his interest, even if he meant to come off as so. Naomi leaned on Damien as she tried to stand properly. He reached out to her, his hands hesitantly bracing for her fall.

She stood straight up.

Naomi shook her head, as she gave him an affirming squeeze to his one hand she held.

"One step at a time." Her voice stayed low, and Damien wanted to curse the room for being so dark. He wished he could see her.

Damien took a few steps forward, his steps synced to Naomi's. Unlike before she finally reached the door, but still her movements stayed weak.

Damien looked around and tried to look for any sign of Death, but even when Naomi pointed out the entity that supposedly prevented her from the room, Damien saw nothing. Usually, at this point Damien should have known what was behind the doors, but whatever it was, it was not from the Underworld.

"Are you okay?" asked Damien.

Naomi still had her eyes shut. She'd only been following Damien's lead this whole time, but at the very least her breath stayed steady. She was still conscious. That's all that mattered to him.

"Give me a second." She croaked, before letting go of Damien's hand to reach for the door knob. Damien's hand followed, in case she needed it again, but he stayed hovering.

Naomi winced as soon as she took hold of the door knob, but as the fighter that she was, she gathered enough will to push open the door. As the door swung open she gasped, as if all the air was punched out of her again.

Damien caught her.

"What the hell!" She grunted, and pushed off Damien. With all the strength left in that frail body of hers, she stood up again. Except this time she kept a hold of Damien.

Damien scrambled to keep his hold on her. For goodness sake, he was done letting her go.

The room before them was dark, but unlike the hall, the room was vast and empty. It gave Damien a sinking feeling in his stomach, a feeling of dread perhaps. Damien couldn't tell. He'd never felt such things before. Damien squinted, looking for any signs of life but found none. Nor of Death.

Naomi trembled beside him.

"Do you see anything?" Damien whispered.

"There's something there." Naomi leaned into Damien, away from the dark. Her voice had never been so unsure before. It was unlike Naomi.

Damien felt a bead of sweat roll down his back, but the room only got colder.

"What is it?" Damien pulled her closer. His entire being told him to run away. To take refuge. To leave.

Besides, Damien had already seen the Queen's ghost. He had already known she was dead. There was no question about it. He simply wanted Naomi to find out for herself.

"She's there. I see the Queen, but there's also something else. I don't know what it is."

Damien stared at nothing but darkness. How was Naomi seeing anything through this dark. Even Damien, who lived in the dark his whole life, couldn't see a single thing.

"Naomi, I can't see anything."

Naomi turned to Damien. She was close enough so he could see her face stricken with fear.

"How can you not see that? Damien, please tell me you see that."

"Then tell me. Tell me what you see Naomi."

"The Queen. She's resting on the bed, but there's someone else beside her."

"Who is it?"

"It's me."

Damien's heart dropped, and this time he chose to listen to the warning bells. Without making a sound, in a single movement, he pulled Naomi out the room, and shut the door before them.

"We need to go."

—

Naomi had lost all sense of reality. Damien pulled her away from the Queen's room and took her back into the halls where they eventually found Oliver who stood exactly where they left him.

They were both gasping for air when they reached him. He stood solemnly still.

"Princess." He murmured weakly.

Naomi was tired of that title. She raised her hands to silence him.

Damien, who kept her hand, pulled her away from Oliver. He stood between them as a shield.

"It's dark magic." Damien spoke. "I see traces of it in him."

Naomi stepped beside Damien, "What do you mean?" She looked over at Oliver, trying to see what Damien saw, but Oliver looked the same.

Damien repeated himself, "What you saw in the room. It's dark magic. Most likely casted by him. Oliver."

Oliver's expression grew even more grim as his name was called out. Naomi had no idea what Damien meant. What magic?

"I don't follow." Naomi looked back to Damien.

Damien sighed and scratched his head, "Magic is real. We don't discuss it in school, but it's real. So is dark magic. Forbidden magic originated from the Forgotten Tribe. I know you know about it."

Naomi was taken aback that Damien even remembered her mentioning the Forgotten Tribes. She tried to play off that moment as much as she could, but nothing really did get past Damien.

Naomi racked her brain. She loved studying about the Forgotten Tribes more than anything, but she'd never taken their story as real. She thought they were forgotten since they were simply a made up fantasy.

"Why the dark magic Oliver? Why is there another one of me in that room?"

Oliver cleared his throat, "Please forgive me princess. It was the only thing I could think of doing to help the Queen recover without actually getting you involved."

"You said the Queen was fine."

"She was. At least until a week ago."

"Oliver!"

"I can explain. I will explain. It's my fault I didn't explain the moment you got here, but you've been sick, and now you look sicker. Please, princess. I care about you."

Naomi scoffed, "Bullshit Oliver! Tell me everything now!"

Oliver winced, "The Queen. The Queen collapsed a week ago after overworking herself with the recent dealings with Quince. One moment she was doing paperwork, the next I found her passed out on her desk. I thought she was fine, Naomi. I thought I'd been taking care of her, but it's been a week since she's been unconscious."

"And you thought to never tell me?! What about that duplicate of me? Who is she? What is she?"

Oliver was about to take a hold of Naomi's hand, but before he could, Damien stepped in between them. "Naomi can't touch you right now.  You're filthy with forbidden magic."

Oliver retracted into himself as he looked away in shame. "It's an empty shell. It's not living. I'm just controlling it to accomplish the Queen's daily tasks for now. Since the Queen collapsed the castle has been in shambles. Word has gone around that the throne is empty. We can't leave the throne empty, or Azalea would simply fall apart. Formally, you'd fulfill the Queen's duty in her absence, but I also know how desperate your situation is, Naomi. The Queen would never allow me to let you drop out of the academy. Not when you've made it this far."

Naomi's felt as if a knife stabbed through her heart. It was her own incompetence that caused this in the end.

"So you thought it would be better to run the kingdom with a puppet that looks like me?" Naomi wanted to cry, but she simply had no tears left.

Oliver didn't respond. Even Oliver had no trust in her.

"Please don't misunderstand, Princess."

"Don't call me princess."

"Naomi."

"What about the Queen then? Had she shown any improvement since?"

Oliver shook his head, "No. We've brought every court doctor we've had. Court magicians. Foreign magicians. Even forbidden magic held no effect."

"You used forbidden magic on the Queen?" Naomi felt another surge of anger.

"We had no choice!"

"You had a choice! You had a choice of letting me know, her only family left, to care for her. Now. Now, I can't even go near her. I can't even hold her. I—" Naomi felt a fire rise up in her throat, before she broke out sobbing. Damien held onto her, as she fell to her knees. She was tired.

It was her fault. It was her own fault. Had Oliver let her know, Naomi couldn't even say that she'd make any difference. Perhaps Oliver had been right.

Oliver kneeled down to her, but he could not even comfort Naomi. He only stayed curled into himself. "I had no choice, Naomi. I'm as terrified as you are of losing her. I only did it because I love the both of you."

The words 'losing her', snapped into a nook in Naomi's mind. It instantly brought her back to that girl who helplessly watched her parents' grave. Though there was someone holding her then. Now she was losing even her. Naomi cried harder.

"Don't act like you care for her." Damien hunched over Naomi as he shoved Oliver away, "I told you to stay away from her. You're dripping in filth."

Oliver didn't fight back. Instead he shifted away voluntarily.

"Forbidden magic is forbidden for a reason. Royalty, especially, is never to touch dark magic. Their bloodline is averse to it. If it did anything to the Queen, it probably killed her."

"You mock us!" Oliver dropped the lamp in his hand. "There is no such thing!"

Damien kicked the lamp away as he stood up above both Naomi and Oliver. Naomi had never heard of such a thing either. She's studied enough about forgotten lore, to know that royalty didn't even exist in the tribal era. It was simply a label made in modern day.

"I know enough." Damien glared at Oliver.

Naomi could see the way he approached Oliver. His fists were tightly clenched, and his steps were sharp. He looked almost unrecognizable with the amount of malice in his eyes. Naomi hated this unfamiliarity.

"Damien." Naomi took Damien's hand, and like always, it sent a rush of relief throughout her whole body. She didn't want any of this. "Oliver is still family."

Oliver trembled below him as he muttered, "I didn't know. I really didn't."

Damien continued to approach Oliver, as he leaned as close to him as possible. Oliver inched back in fear. He whispered a few words into his ears. It was only when Oliver broke down when Damien pulled back with a twisted smile of satisfaction.

He then turned back to Naomi, his whole demeanor softening in a single second. He kneeled down, and cupped Naomi's face again. He palmed her tears away, but Naomi couldn't stop her crying.

Damien was a contradiction.

She was comforted by his touch, by his actions, but the words he whispered to Oliver made her skin crawl.

"Hell doesn't forgive murderers."