Fidelity
Requiem of the Moth S03 C11
Content warnings1
“My lord, breakfast is ready.”
Usira burrows deeper under his blanket. If he pushes his nose into the pillow, there’s still a trace of Yun’s scent: ginger, the oil he uses in his workshop, and some herb Usira can’t identify. It’s been four twists since Yun’s exile. To his own surprise, Usira has forgotten what it’s like to sleep alone. To think through his worries, ideas, and decisions alone.
He thought they were starting to trust each other, to share their plans. Then again, if Yun was anticipating his punishment—and Usira knows him too well not to suspect he had at least an inkling—, he never deigned to warn Usira.
“My lord.” Something tugs at his blanket. A stab of light cuts through the darkness before he yanks the blanket back over his head. “My lord, I’m supposed to take good care of you. Breakfast is ready.”
Of course, it’s Zhiva. She’s more persistent than her twin, tugging at the blanket until he lets go and sits up. Her face is as expressionless as ever but he imagines rebuke behind those porcelain features. It helps him accept the tray she sets on his lap, the clothes she lays out on the armchair.
He hardly tastes the food. For the past four twists, all he did was meet his tutors, study, and sleep in the empty bed. His dreams are dark and bloody. This morning, too, his eyelids are heavy with the residue of his tossing and turning, trying to escape a labyrinth full of guards and poison darts.
After his flight, Melyi stopped by his chambers only long enough to take the manuscript. No questions answered. Rumours of the Pai and Rilan’s lack of communication have told him all that matters: Bini’s true nature was discovered, his body likely destroyed. He hasn’t seen Ulan since they parted by the back door and fears the worst.
Of course, Ithreyesh has never shared any information beyond the strictly necessary. Ulan could be fine, serving the organisation elsewhere in the capital.
Far from the reason he uses to soothe his conscience, the images he can’t unsee haunt his dreams: the twisted thrill of creeping through a hostile mansion. His heart pounding out of his chest. Whispered arguments, each decision one of life and death. Blood spraying as Ulan slits that guard’s throat.
Wasn’t he supposed to be the upright one? Usira has lost count of how often he has donned his dark cloak and stepped out into the corridor, only to be reminded by Zhiva or Zhiven that he shouldn’t leave. He can’t visit his family shrine and ask forgiveness of the Moth. He’s no longer Isvalri but Noe, expected to pray to the Deep and venerate ancestors who would’ve spit on him.
*See what you’ve done to me, Yun? I’m starting to understand you.*
Of course, he admits while chewing the last bite, he would do it all over again and worse—if it meant saving his bonded and their clan. He can’t go back to who he was before.
Sighing, he gets dressed. How much time would Yun allow for grieving the past? Usira knows the answer.
“Let’s go.” He nods to Zhiva and walks over to the library, greeting his etiquette tutor with a nod.
As he listens to the lecture on cutlery and manners during official banquets, however, part of his mind drifts again. Yun would allow no time at all for sentimentality. Weak, he would scoff.
Then why aren’t you back yet?
Usira balls his hands to fists, forgetting the silver fork in his right. He promised Yun he would do everything he could to hasten his return to Kandamsin. He’s been hiding from his own shadow long enough. It’s time to talk to the new clan head.
“The loan is sealed, I signed the papers at the temple this morning. That should tide us over for the foreseeable future.”
A groan. “Don’t expect me to pat you on the back for taking my place. He got us into this mess, he should be the one labouring to fix it. Begging us to keep him.”
“I thought we agreed on his punishment.”
Usira hates to cut off Shuli’s cool alto but he can’t listen any longer. He shoulders past the puppets into the office. “If I may, honourable ones, I have some doubts concerning his punishment.”
Zakiva shoots up from the cushion she’s been lounging on as if stung by a scorpion fish. “How dare you march in as if this belonged to you?” Diminished with only two puppets flanking her instead of the usual four, she still crowds him with sleeves fluttering and eyes blazing. “Leave at once.”
Usira doesn’t budge. Over her head, he says: “Honourable one, my bonded always spoke of you as a woman of wisdom and fairness. He trusted you above all others.” Above me. “I hope you will at least consider what I have to say in his defence.”
“Impertinent!”
Shuli watches him over her scroll-laden desk. Her office is larger than Yun’s but shows the same signs of serious work. Unlike her predecessor, she isn’t concerned with the privileges and luxuries of her new title. The only personal touch is her love of jewellery showing in the fine pieces scattered over silver dishes, trays, and stands. “You would defend him? If my intelligence is correct, he deceived you too.”
“I would defend him. The circumstances of our bonding may have been haphazard but I agreed to be bonded to Noe Yun out of my own free will. I vowed to support and…”
The rest is drowned by a scream as one of Zakiva’s puppets grabs her arms and the other lunges for the desk. Before anyone can draw another breath, Zakiva has her arms pinned behind her back and a silver letter opener digging into her neck. A single crimson drop wells up.
Shuli stands. “Unhand her!”
The puppet holding Zakiva tilts his head. “Noe Yun requests that you give orders to end his exile now. If you refuse, we are instructed to turn this into a sea of blood. You have one stalactite drip.”
“What… Don’t touch me!” Izo bursts in, followed by another two relatives whose names Usira doesn’t care to remember. They’re stopped at the door by Zhiva and Zhiven. Judging from the muffled shouting and noise, a scuffle must be brewing outside.
Shuli turns to her own puppet, who has been waiting in the corner. The girl steps between her and Zakiva—a silent warning. Rubbing her temple, the clan head meets Usira’s gaze. “Did you…”
“I had no idea.” Even as he says it, however, Usira wonders if Yun’s full name was what triggered the attack. That his bonded can control puppets created by others though… another secret he neglected to share or a new breakthrough?
Shuli starts pacing behind her desk, ticking points off on her fingers. “If he controls the puppets in this room, we can expect the same for all our puppets. We don’t know how he does it. We can’t create new puppets because we’d be prevented to access our workshops. We don’t know if new puppets wouldn’t be under his influence as well. We’d need hired help to clear the house of puppets, which would make us not only vulnerable but a laughingstock.”
She stops. When she faces the room, she’s wearing the expression of someone who has lost and knows it too. “Get me the fastest courier you can find.”
Usira crosses the office to Zakiva. The puppets don’t move as he brings his face close to hers. Oh, it might be exactly what Yun would do in his shoes but he can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy seeing her scared out of her wits. “This doesn’t belong to me? Looks like it belongs even less to you.”
Author Notes
Only one chapter to go in season three! If I’ve done my job right, you should start seeing all the threads come together as we gallop through the finale and anticipate Yun’s triumphant return.
I finished writing season three a while ago. I haven’t felt the urge to return to Yun and Usira until last night, when I had an idea for how I want to conclude Requiem. Yes, season four will be the last one—fingers crossed, unless it turns out to be longer than 15k words, in which case I will split it into two seasons.
Still, I never expected Requiem to get as big as it has over the last two years. I thought it would be novella length, around 30k words. Instead it has grown to over 60k, with the last season still pending. That’s a novel—shorter than the high fantasy genre standard but still a novel. I don’t know if I’ll write a full recap but one thing I can say now is that I’ve enjoyed the writing process and I’m happy with the result. I’d be excited to clean it up, iron out the inconsistencies, and publish an ebook version down the line. (With fees and currency exchange rates being what they are, I probably won’t be able to afford professional editing or cover design but I still want to do what I can for Yun and Usira.)
Anyway, spooky puppet action at a distance—can you guess how Yun managed to turn Zakiva’s servants against her? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
Stay tuned to find out in the next and last chapter of season three!
Light violence, blood, elitism