Chapter Text
Three days until the Boyle Party.
Treavor flicked the stop switch and the audiograph slipped out of the player. That was all he could record at the moment. He would need more wine before he could talk about the aftermath of his tenth birthday party. Much more wine.
It was stupid. His brothers had been spirited away by Slackjaw. He had nothing to fear from them so why was he still unable to speak of their acts?
He turned over his shoulder to call for Wallace –
And saw Lady Emily standing in the doorway and looking at him with the intense gaze that already resembled her mother’s.
After a month of silence, Lady Emily asked, “Are you making a diary, Lord Treavor?”
If she had been anyone but the upcoming empress, Treavor would have rather told her to mind her own business. However, he needed to stay in her good books if he wanted to come out of this Conspiracy well so he answered, “In a manner of speaking, yes. I’m composing my memoirs. It’s similar to a diary but this is one I intend to publish to the public. We’re in the middle of a great historic event, after all, and people will want to know everything about those who took part in it.”
“Like a history book?” Lady Emily pulled a face that rankled Treavor so much that he added.
“Much more interesting than that. This will have a more personal touch, more like a story than anything like a history book.”
“Oh.” Lady Emily nodded, looking more interested. Treavor cleared his throat and was just about to ask her to go back to her lessons (in the politest way he could) when she asked another question that took him completely off guard, “How do you talk about nasty things like you did just now?”
So, she had been listening in to him. Treavor struggled for words. How on earth could he respond to such a question from a ten-year-old girl?
“I, ah, pretend it’s a story. That it’s not really about me but someone else. Who also happens to have cruel twin brothers.”
It sounded ridiculous. Even a young girl would find it laughable. But, to her credit, Lady Emily didn’t laugh out loud, “Okay. So, if it’s a story, then it can’t hurt you?”
“That’s the essence of it.” Treavor dearly hoped that would be the last question. Where on earth was Miss Curnow?
“I understand. Thanks for that, I’ll see you later.” With that, she turned a half-circle on the spot and trotted away.
Treavor had no idea what to make of the exchange or what he had done to deserve her thanks. Perhaps, he had been wrong and her mind was not as tough as he’d hoped. Still, it wasn’t the pressing issue. His mouth was dry and all the bottles in his room were empty. He opened his mouth to call for Wallace again –
And, Corvo appeared at the doorway. Treavor started. Even without his mask, Corvo still made him uneasy. The way he could creep up on people…it was almost like he had the power of teleportation or whatever it was Piero called it. One could never be sure whether he was close by and or how much he had heard.
“Hello, Corvo. I’ve heard that one of the Boyle women has been funding the Lord Regent. I honestly can’t say I’m surprised.”
Corvo raised an eyebrow and his mouth quirked upwards in a way that could denote amusement. Had he been listening in to his memoir recording too? Or had he been listening to court gossip?
“That was a very good thing you just did.”
The comment snapped Treavor out of his train of thought so effectively that it felt like being slapped across the face, “Oh, er, well, I’m, ah, not entirely sure what I’ve done.”
“You gave Emily a way of talking about past events. She hasn’t been able to open up about what happened to her at the Golden Cat yet. If this way works, she may be able to put it behind her.”