Clause 5: Performance of Duties and Public Representation

The shrine was screaming. Not a sound but a raw, overwhelming surge of power lashing out as it was destroyed. Poppy felt It inside her mind, desperate, hungry, reaching—

Join us. We’ll make the pain stop. Hungry, need more—

The oily black ichor was everywhere. Dripping from the walls, pooling on the ground, crawling up her arms. She tried to wipe it away but it just smeared, soaking into her skin, becoming her skin—

“No—” She heard her own voice, distant and distorted. “No, I can’t—”

Come back come back you belong here with us always us never alone we understand—

Hands on her shoulders. Cold. Too many of them. Pulling her down into the ichor. She was sinking, drowning, and the worst part was the relief—the horrible, seductive relief of being known again, of being seen, of not having to hide—

“Stop.”

The voice was different. Real. Close.

We’ll be here. One day, you’ll join us.

“Penelope, enough.”

The shrine vanished.

Poppy’s eyes snapped open to darkness and pressure, a hand firmly over her mouth, another holding her shoulder down. She was in bed. Her bed. She tried to thrash, to fight, but—

“It’s just a dream.”

The voice was familiar. Her body stopped fighting before her mind caught up.

“Breathe.” Niko kept his hand firmly over her mouth, the other hand pressing her shoulder into the mattress. “You’re fine. Nothing is hurting you.”

Her breathing slowed against his palm, her muscles starting to relax. When it finally evened out, he released her.

She gasped in air—cigar smoke and whiskey, strong enough that she could tell he’d been drinking for hours.

“What the fuck, Nikolas—”

“Y’were screaming in Draconic again.” His weight shifted on the bed beside her; she could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness.

“Get out.”

“No.” She heard liquid sloshing and saw the outline of a flask as he tipped his head back. He took a long drink before setting it aside with a soft clink on her bedside table. “You’re gonna wake the whole estate if you keep this up. I heard you all the way in the north wing.”

Her hands were shaking. The absence of the Entity was a physical ache in her chest, and the nightmare had made it worse. She had just dosed yesterday afternoon. She shouldn’t need more this soon.

“You’re drunk,” she observed.

“And you’re overdue.” He reached over her to the bedside table, and she heard him pick up an empty vial she had failed to dispose of. “When was your last dose? Yesterday?”

She didn’t answer.

He set the vial down with a soft click. “You have more somewhere. Where?”

“Desk drawer. The right one.”

He stood up and walked to the desk. She heard the sound of the drawer opening and glass clinking.

“There’s nothing in here.”

“False bottom. Thought you knew that.”

The sound of more clinking and a drawer closing, then a stumble as he walked back to the bed. He sat down and held a full vial out to her.

“Take it,” he said. “Before you start screaming again.”

She reached for it with shaking hands, uncorked it, and drank before she could talk herself out of it. The liquid burned down her throat, but she could already feel her heartbeat slowing down.

They sat in silence as the Blight worked through her system and her hands stopped shaking.

“I hate you,” she whispered.

“You always say that.” He grabbed his flask, took another drink. “Right before you stop pretending.”

“Why are you here?”

“Keeping you alive until the engagement feast.” He set the flask back down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Can’t collect my winnings if you have a breakdown before spring.”

“That’s not—”

“’S exactly why I’m here.” He shifted, and she felt him settle more comfortably onto the bed. “Scoot over.”

“What?”

“You’re not sleeping, I’m not leaving, and I‘m not sitting in that torture device of a vanity chair for the next four hours.” He nudged her again, harder this time. “Move.”

She should tell him to get out. Shove him off the bed. Tell him to get drunk somewhere else.

She moved over instead.

He settled back against the headboard, boots and all, stretching his legs out over the duvet. His hand shot out in the darkness, fingers closing around her wrist. She tried to pull away before he noticed that her heart was racing again; his grip just tightened and she relaxed before she could stop herself.

“You were specific tonight, you know. In the screaming.”

She went very still. “What?”

“Usually you’re fighting it. Screaming at the shrines to let you go.” He said it casually, matter-of-fact. “But tonight? Tonight you stopped fighting.”

Poppy didn’t answer.

“‘I don’t want to be alone anymore.’ That’s what you said. Three times.”

Poppy closed her eyes. She didn’t even try to deny it; there was no point in fighting him when he already had been in the darkest parts of her mind and back.

“I want to go back,” she whispered.

The silence stretched, somehow less suffocating now that she had said it out loud.

“In the dreams,” she continued, the words spilling out faster now, “the Entity reaches for me. Tells me I don’t have to be alone. And I want to go.”

“And?” His thumb kept its steady rhythm on her wrist. “What stops you?”

“I wake up.” She fought the burn of tears. “Every time, part of me wants to say yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I hate the silence.” The exhaustion and the Blight and the relief all crashed over her at once and she couldn’t stop herself from saying what came out next. “I miss never being alone in my own head.”

Niko let go of her wrist, sitting up and looking down at her. He swayed slightly before letting his head thunk back against the headboard.

“Some things don’t change, do they?” His words were thick, bleeding together. “Entity, Lyria, me—you’ll latch onto anything that bothers to look at you.”

They lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling. His voice sounded like it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel; she knew she should be offended, but arguing the point was too much effort.

“How long since you slept through the night?” he asked finally.

“I don’t know. A week?”

“Try three.” He closed his eyes, sliding further down the headboard. “The screaming started nightly three weeks ago.”

“I’m handling it.” She didn’t even try to sound convincing.

“Are you? I’ve got fifty silver riding on you making it to the dessert course at the feast before you crack.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s what I thought.” She could hear something almost amused under the mockery as he slid down further, resting his head on a pillow. “Go to sleep. You might be less insufferable in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep with you here.”

“You couldn’t sleep before I got here either. That’s why you were screaming.”

She shifted, settling against his side without quite meaning to. He didn’t pull away.

“Close your eyes, Poppy.”

The exhaustion was pulling her under as the Blight softened everything that had kept her up. She closed her eyes, stifling a yawn.

“Why do you keep watching me?” Poppy murmured.

“Someone has to.” Niko shook the flask to confirm it was empty, then dropped it on the mattress. “You don’t let anyone else look.”

She wanted to argue. To say Titus saw her, took care of her. But she was too tired.

Instead she fell asleep with her head on Niko’s arm and the smell of whiskey and Blight in the air between them.

⊱⊰

Several days later she stood at the atrium door with her arm looped through Titus’s, laughing at something a senator had said that wasn’t funny. Titus thanked him for coming in a low monotone, asking how his son was doing and promising to catch up later in the evening.

The line moved smoothly. Poppy’s smile brightened as the next guests approached.

“Senator Nermal! And Geraldine! How lovely you could make it,” She shook their hands, leaning in to the Senator’s wife as Titus exchanged other pleasantries. “I heard that Lola is to be married soon, do offer her my congratulations!”

“She will be happy to have them. She sends her regrets that she couldn’t make it—she has her own party to plan, after all.”

“Oh, no offense taken. I completely understand after the three months I’ve had.” Poppy winked as they went through, a servant leading them to their assigned table as she turned to the next guest.

Titus turned to her when there was a lull in the arrivals, wrapping an arm around her and squeezing. “You’re doing great. Only a few more hours.”

She looked at him, confused. “Should I not be?”

His response came from slightly too far away, muffled like he was speaking through glass. She watched his mouth move, nodded at whatever he said. Dotty approached from the atrium entryway, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she looked at them.

“Oh, Poppy.” She sighed. “It seems like yesterday I was changing your diapers, and now—” She pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes. “Look at you.”

Poppy reached over and pulled her into a hug. For a moment, wrapped in the familiar scent of lavender and starch, something shifted. Grief, maybe. Or gratitude. Something that mattered.

“Thank you, Dotty,” she whispered. “For everything.”

When they pulled apart, Dotty studied her face for a long moment. Her hand came up to cup Poppy’s cheek, thumb brushing just below her eye.

“You’re doing so well, dear,” she said quietly. But her eyes held a question: Are you really alright?

Poppy’s smile stayed perfect. “Of course I am.”

Dotty’s expression flickered—recognition, perhaps, or worry—but she smoothed it away with the practiced ease Poppy had learned from her. She straightened her uniform, clearing her throat.

“Well then. Your grandfather wants you at the table. It’s time for dinner.”

⊱⊰

The dining hall was the masterpiece of calculation that they had planned. From her position at the head table, Poppy could see everything. The Marlowes and the Kressids were three tables over, the Volkovs positioned next to Lynn’s Freelands contacts, Senator Vane carefully placed within view of Castellan and the rest of the Merchant’s Guild. Every piece exactly where it needed to be.

Dinner began. Conversations rose and fell around her like waves.

She watched Marlowe lean toward Kressid, though she couldn’t tell what was said. The older man’s brow furrowed as he said something back. Marlowe’s face changed—just a flicker, barely noticeable—but Poppy saw the exact moment he understood.

She should feel victorious. Instead, she watched herself smile and take a sip of wine. It tasted like nothing.

Time was moving strangely. She looked down at her plate of roasted quail and vegetables arranged in careful patterns. She blinked. The plate was empty. She didn’t remember eating, couldn’t taste the food on her tongue. A servant was already clearing it away.

Down the table, Lynn caught her eye and raised her glass slightly, a subtle gesture. It’s working. Poppy lifted her own glass in response. The crystal was too bright in the candlelight, the gold rim burning her vision.

Titus leaned close, his voice warm with satisfaction. “It looks like things are going well, then?”

The words came from far away, muffled like he was speaking underwater. She heard herself respond—something appropriate, pleased—but couldn’t quite track what she’d said. His hand found hers under the table. She couldn’t feel the pressure, just watched as her fingers laced with his.

The weight of someone’s stare made her look up. Niko was at his post at the atrium entryway, eyes fixed on her. Titus followed her sightline.

“That the head of security?”

“Yes. Nikolas Kovali. Owns Kovali Contract Guard.” Poppy said automatically without meaning to.

“He’s very focused on his duties,” Titus said, a slight edge to his voice. “Does your grandfather always have security watch you that closely?”

“Always,” Poppy responded, shooting Niko a look that was supposed to convey to him to knock it off but she couldn’t tell if her features were arranged the way they should be.

Before Titus could respond, the servants began clearing the final course and guests began rising from their seats. The mingling would begin. Her body already knew what to do.

⊱⊰

The atrium opened up before her. The sound of music, conversation, and the clink of glasses was almost overwhelming as Poppy wove throughout the floor. It felt like she was watching someone else pilot her body.

“Lord Volkov,” she heard herself say, voice bright and warm. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.” She gestured to the silver merchant from the Freelands, the contact that Lynn had pointed out to her. “Have you two met? I believe you have some mutual interests in elven steel trade routes.”

The introduction was seamless. She watched Lord Volkov’s expression shift from polite interest to genuine attention. Perfect. She excused herself and drifted to the next cluster of guests.

Across the room, Lucas caught her eye. He looked impressed. Proud, even. She watched her face smile back at him.

Near the refreshment table, the Promblys stood awkwardly, clearly out of their depth. The Karelian delegation was two steps away, equally adrift.

“Lady Prombly, what a beautiful necklace,” Poppy said warmly. “Is that northern craftsmanship?”

Lady Prombly’s face lit up. “Yes! It’s been in my family for generations. From when we first established our holdings in—”

“The northern territories,” Poppy finished. “I’ve heard your family has extensive connections there. The trade routes, the local craftsmen.” She turned, as if just noticing the Karelians. “Oh! Ambassador, forgive me. Have you met Lord and Lady Prombly? I was just admiring Lady Prombly’s necklace - northern work. I believe you mentioned at dinner that you were hoping to establish partnerships in that region?”

The Karelian Ambassador’s expression shifted from polite interest to genuine attention. “We have been looking for established families with existing relationships…”

Within minutes, they were deep in conversation about supply routes and import agreements. Poppy excused herself with a gracious smile.

She had done that. Orchestrated it. Made it look effortless. She should feel proud.

Instead, she felt nothing at all.

Titus found her by the windows, pulled her into the dancing. She could barely feel his hand on her waist, trying to focus on what he was saying.

“The plan is working perfectly,” he said, and she could hear the genuine pleasure in it. “Half these families are going to walk out tonight thinking they have alternatives to your grandfather. The three of you really pulled this off flawlessly.”

Her mouth said something appropriate. She didn’t know what.

They turned across the floor. A senator’s wife caught her arm as they passed, gushing about her dress, her poise, how radiant she looked. Poppy’s face arranged itself into delight, said thank you, made some light comment that earned laughter.

Inside: nothing.

The candles were too bright. The music was too loud and too distant at the same time. Her own laughter sounded like it was coming from underwater. The heat was building. Too many bodies, too many candles. The walls were starting to close in, too musch stimulation in one room.

Poppy excused herself, slipping through a side door onto a balcony. The winter air hit her face but she couldn’t feel the cold. She gripped the stone railing, trying to ground herself.

She heard the sound of heavy boots behind her.

“You overdosed.”

She didn’t turn around. “I’m fine, Nikolas.”

“You’re not.” He moved beside her, close enough that she could smell whiskey and smoke. “Your cheeks are flushed. You’re smiling too hard. You haven’t blinked in the last thirty seconds. It’s a marvel nobody else noticed.”

“I needed to be functional.”

“You need to be in control, Princess.” He grabbed her shoulder and turned her, forcing her to look at him. His eyes tracked across her face. “How much did you take?”

“Enough to get through the night.”

“God’s sake, Penelope.” He let go, running a hand across his head. “You know what happens if you crash? If you start shaking or sweating or can’t string a sentence together in front of half the Civen Senate?”

“I won’t—”

“You might.” His voice dropped. “I can hide a lot. But I can’t hide you collapsing at your own engagement feast. And I’ve still got fifty silver riding on you making it to dessert, so do me a favor and don’t fuck this up in the next two hours.”

She stared at him. “That’s what you’re worried about? Your bet?”

“No.” Something shifted in his expression. “I’m worried you’re going to die. But threats don’t work on you, and I figured mentioning money might actually stick.”

The music drifted out from the atrium. Someone was laughing.

“Two hours,” he said. “Can you hold it together for two more hours?”

“I have to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Poppy? Everything okay?” Lynn was standing in the doorway, eyes darting between the pair before settling coolly on Niko. “Security concern, Captain Kovali?”

“Nothing at all.” The lie came out of his mouth, smoother than butter. “I do believe your sister is feeling a bit faint. Perhaps you should take her to the restroom?”

Lynn looked over at Poppy, taking her in. “Poppy? Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just feeling overwhelmed.” Half true. Lynn’s face turned sympathetic.

“It’s been a long night. Come on, I’ll get you to the restroom. If anyone tries to stop us, I’ll body block them.” She grabbed Poppy’s elbow without ceremony, steering her back into the atrium.

She could feel Niko still watching her as she went through the door.

⊱⊰

“Penelope Katullin! Or should I start practicing Marianus now?”

The voice was warm, bordering on delighted. Poppy’s head cleared slightly, awareness snapping into focus as something in her screamed danger. She turned, smile automatic.

Approaching was Avery Valerius—impeccably dressed, perfectly groomed, and beaming at her like they were old friends. Poppy locked eyes with them as they approached, the memory from a decade ago playing in her mind’s eye.

“You know, I’ve always felt it’s a shame about your eye, Atticus. It makes your family look so… asymmetrical.”

She’d almost forgotten the brothers had younger siblings. The Valerius family had been absent from society for years.

“Avery!” Poppy kept her voice even. “I haven’t seen you in years. What a lovely surprise!”

“Isn’t it?” Avery clasped Poppy’s hands warmly, grip just a fraction too tight. She felt the pressure, the warning. The haze the Blight had induced retreated, her senses sharpening in response to the threat.

“My brothers weren’t able to be here, of course,” Avery was saying, “But I simply had to attend when we got the invitation. And Rosalynn!” They turned to include her sister. “Both of the Katullin girls, here together. It’s like the old days. You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress.”

“Thank you,” Lynn accepted the compliment smoothly. “I didn’t realize you were in Civen.”

“Oh, just spending the winter with the family.” Avery’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve actually been expanding some of our family’s interests into the Freelands. Dominus and I saw that you two were doing so well for your grandfather there and we absolutely had to try it ourselves.”

Poppy’s smile didn’t waver. “How wonderful. The Freelands have so much opportunity for those with resilience.”

“Don’t they? And you’ve done so well there, I hear. That paper of yours is so wonderful! I’ve been reading every issue.” Avery leaned in conspiratorially. “You always did have such a gift for drawing people in. Getting them to trust you. Making them feel… comfortable.”

Lynn’s hand came to rest lightly on Poppy’s elbow and she shifted slightly, positioning herself just a fraction closer to her sister’s side. Across the atrium Poppy saw her mother take a glass from a passing waiter, using the motion to turn slightly and watch them.

“Poppy has always been talented,” Lynn said, her voice warm. “Though I think you’re being far too modest about your own family’s accomplishments, Avery. The Valerius interests have expanded so impressively over the years.”

“You’re too kind.” Their focus shifted fully back to Poppy. “I remember how good you two were at hosting parties. You had such a talent for bringing people together. In fact, I was just telling my brothers how much fun a Katullin wedding would be, since they loved your parties so much. Though I’m afraid travel is difficult for them these days. They’re rather… limited in their social engagements. But they speak of you often.”

At the head table, Lucas stood beside their grandfather, studying the scene. His eyes tracked between Poppy, Lynn, and Avery before he leaned close to Abraxus, saying something in a low tone.

Abraxus’ brow furrowed just a fraction before smoothing out. He nodded once, his gaze settling on Avery before flicking to Poppy. Don’t let this escalate, it seemed to say.

“How are Atticus and Dominus?” Poppy asked, voice pleasant as she watched her mother disentangle herself from a group of senator’s wives and begin walking towards them. “It’s been so long.”

“Oh, you know.” Avery waved a hand airily. “They manage. Some wounds take time to heal. Or don’t heal at all, as the case may be. But they’ve learned to adapt to their limitations. We all have.”

The fog had lifted enough for Poppy to see the whole board. Across the atrium, her mother was moving through the crowd toward them casually. Lucas at the head table, leaning toward Grandfather, eyes tracking the conversation. Lynn’s hand steady on her elbow. Avery standing too close, smiling too warmly, every word a threat wrapped in pleasantry.

She could see it all now. The chess pieces she hadn’t planned for moving into position, her family automatically moving to counter them.

Avery turned to survey the atrium. Their eyes landed on Titus standing with his father, nodding politely at something someone was saying, unaware of the second board that had just been put into play. “The consul seems like a remarkable man. So principled. Dedicated to justice and the truth, rooting out corruption.” They looked back at Poppy again. “You must be so excited to start this new chapter. Building something real in the Freelands, away from all those old family obligations.”

“I am.” The first honest thing she had said all night.

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it. You’ve always been so good at reinventing yourself.” Avery’s eyes sparkled in the candlelight. “I’m sure we’ll have so many opportunities to catch up properly. Trade stories. Share memories with new friends.”

“Penelope! Have you said hello to Senator Cushing’s wife yet? She is simply gushing about wanting to see your dress up close.” Hermena had reached them. She looked over at Avery with an apologetic smile. “Oh goodness, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

Avery stepped back, beaming. “Not at all, Lady Katullin! I was just offering my congratulations and how much I’m looking forward to our continued… friendship… in the Freelands.”

One more warm smile, a gracious nod to Lynn, and they glided into the crowd.

Poppy’s wine glass was shaking. She felt her hands trembling, heart racing. The adrenaline was burning through the Blight faster than she’d planned. Lynn smoothly took it from her hand, replacing it with a fresh one from a passing servant.

“Breathe,” her sister murmured, already scanning the room. “I’ll handle it. You’re doing beautifully.”

Poppy’s smile stayed perfect, but her mind was racing as her mother took her arm from Lynn and steered her through the atrium.

Avery Valerius. In the Freelands. Where Titus worked. Where her press was. Where she had gone to build something far away from all of this.

She caught a flash of silver hair across the room as she let the Senator’s wife fawn over the silk of her dress. Lynn was moving purposefully in one direction, Niko closing in from across the room, both tracking toward where the Valerius sibling stood near the refreshments. Avery noticed the attention; by the time Lynn arrived at the table, they had slipped through a knot of guests and out onto a crowded balcony.

Avery glanced back, caught Poppy’s eye, and smiled one last time before disappearing into the night, their last words ringing in her ears.

I’m looking forward to our continued friendship.

⊱⊰