How to Make a Sinner Sleep - Chapter 89: Chapter 89

Kaden stood with his hands behind his back in the Crown Prince's office, within the castle walls. He'd been summoned back under the impression of the King's request and had instead been directed to the office.
Naturally, there was only one person who would be seated in that elegant chair, carved of the finest mahogany.
"It's been a long time since I've had summons from the King." commented Kaden casually, though the walls of this palace seemed to constrict around him.
His palms felt like they were sweating between tightly clasped fingers, pressed in the groove of his back as he willed out a breath.
The place where he spent so many years living; hardly fit to call home.
Reed lifted his icy blue gaze, devoid of emotion. "Somebody has declared war on me, and as my loyal subject, your expertise will be required."
"Calling for your best weapon, are you?"
"If you weren't the best, I'd have long abandoned you."
A spike of anxiety struck Kaden's heart, and he chided it for caring at all. He'd spent so long attempting to prove his worth that the idea of abandonment made him nauseous.
"For somebody to make an enemy of you, dear master, they must be a fool." He said like a loyal dog with a belly full of praise.
Reed's eyes sharpened, not missing the sarcastic drawl in the words. His head throbbed, and somewhere, something warned him to reconsider all his actions. To remind himself of his goals
Goals?
He didn't remember them clearly anymore.
He needed to find that infuriating neighbouring prince, his disloyal ally. Lux had a way of chasing the fog away from his mind by use of his ugly face and irritating words.
Although that man also seemed to have an aptitude for not being around when needed, and appearing when he was least wanted.
"There's a few I need you to investigate. If it turns out that they have turned their backs to me, then I will do the same."
Reed tapped on his desk and Kaden stiffened, slowly walking closer to view the scrap of paper on the table.
A dozen printed names neatly laid out.
When he glanced up, he realised Reed was keenly observing him. That was when Kaden understood: this was a test. Any recognition of the names or resistance to carrying out his duties would be noted as suspicious, as a betrayal. However—
Kaden's eyes landed on one name, a flicker of surprise showing in his expression.
—to know nothing was equally suspicious.
Reed leaned forward, tilting his head to the list. "Is there somebody you recognize?"
"I vaguely recall a few of my classmates, reading these names. These are their parents." replied Kaden smoothly, telling a half-truth.
Some names were prominent nobles, and even if Kaden didn't pay attention to others, it was impossible not to recognize certain names. Although it wasn't enough of a surprise to make his expression slip—but Reed needed to see a bit of clumsiness, a bit of weakness that reminded Reed of the control he held.
Between these two siblings, every action and every word could be dissected and exposed for their hidden meanings.
"I see. If you wish, you may use Skye as your ally. He won't reject you." Reed collected the spread of papers on his desk, tapping it several times to gather them into a neat pile.
"It's because I know he won't that I can't."
Reed paused. "Do you feel sorry for that child?" The fingers holding the paper curled slightly, digging into the thick stack. "You shouldn't. The matters of events that occurred in this palace have nothing to do with you—feel pity for nobody in this castle."
"Are you giving me advice, dear old big brother?" Kaden laughed sharply, tilting his head. "I'm blessed by your kindness."
A scowl flitted onto Reed's lips. "Enough. Get out."
Kaden blinked in surprise. "Right now? There's nothing else to torment me with?"
"Out. Your presence taints these royal floors."
Kaden scoffed, dramatically bowing as he smiled. "As you wish."
He stalked out of the room, the lingering ice blue gaze trailing after the closed door. Reed rubbed his temples, sighing. The sooner Kaden left the better—the cursed air that circulated within these walls already plagued Kaden's memories.
It was impossible to not notice Kaden's stiffness, the intuitive tension that ran along his shoulders to his legs, darting eyes that rathered to be anywhere but there.
The man's fingers tugged at an envelope tossed to the corner of his desk, already crudely torn open. His jaw tensed as he glanced at the letter again—a summons sent to Kaden, requested by the King.
"Won't you lie down and pass peacefully, father?" muttered Reed bitterly. "As a son, I've honoured my duties."
He stood, crumpling the paper in his hand. Slowly, he walked over to a metal basin in the corner of the room, and rummaged through his pocket for a match box. A quick swipe against the edge and a flame burst to life, the warmth glow of heat pulsing before his face.
For a second, Reed stared at the orange hue that cast warmth in his cold office.
"If you continue to insist upon interfering,"
In the next second, he lit the paper of fire and dropped it expressionlessly into the basin, a burn grazing the tip of his fingers where he'd briefly held the burning paper.
Black spread up the yellowed material, eating through the lines of words until it was completely tainted. The flame flickered and burned futility, but with no more fuel it dispersed, ashes flaking into the depths of the basin.
"Then I'll be forced to forsake my identity as your blood."
He bent down, staring at the ashes and soot before covering his face with his hands, exhaling sharply. "Ha. As if I haven't already. My goals will be accomplished, I have sinned far too much to turn back now."
He collapsed to his side as a wrack of pain befell him, rolling onto his back over carpeted floor.
Behind the closed door, Kaden had leaned against it for a second of thought before leaving. The hallway appeared long, a winding path that terrified him in his youth. The dreary walls that for all the gold that decorated them could not hold any life.
The servants, as he passed, bent their heads low and refused to make eye contact. The ones that haunted him in his youth had long disappeared at an unknown time.
Although those who tormented him were no longer there, the walls held memories that made him breathless, slipping around his throat in a reminder.
His strides took more speed as if being chased out of the castle.
Faster, faster.
He had to run away faster, move faster, find success faster.
The man burst through the doors, tipping his chin to the flourish of the skies, the freshness of the air. He breathed and ground his teeth. It was pathetic—that the castle still haunted him to the day.
But Kaden Chauvet learned to adapt. He learned how to survive in a world that wished him dead.
Smoothening his clothes, the fear settled into the pits of his stomach and he strode to the carriage. Another meeting in the evening, and another one in a few days. Bolivia would continue provoking Reed's allies, digging information through sheer force.
Close. He was so close, he could almost grab it.
Kaden sighed and opened the door, sliding inside. He sighed again, burying his face into his hands.
"Now, now, Kaden. I heard sighing ages you." A youthful voice remarked with some humour.
Through the slit in the carriage door, Kaden caught a pair of trustworthy blue eyes. Kaden blanked and threw open the door, sliding into the front seat.
The driver clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively. "Good sir, why are you sitting here when there's a perfectly good carriage right behind me?"
"Niklas," Kaden said in disbelief. "Why are you here?"
"My identity's originally your carriage driver, remember?"
"Yet you refused so many times I assumed you'd been fired."
"...No, I'm rather good at what I do." Niklas faked offense, as he often did, before his expression morphed into a relaxed grin. "Look at you, Kaden. A pale complexion, dark circles—no matter how trendy it is, you look awful."
Kaden stared. "Once again, can you look in a mirror first?"
"Once again," copied Niklas. "I'm only copying you, who I admire so much."
Kaden shook his head with a scoff and Niklas laughed beside him, delighted by the reaction. They passed the forest leading to the castle, discussing the recent happenings in the Academy with an occasional ridiculous observation made by the cheery man.
Niklas discussed the romantic gossip of several classmates in detail, helped by Holly's thorough investigation.
"You must be bored." said Kaden in response.
"What if I find delight in observing the blossoming of young romance?"
"Then you're either an old man, or immensely pathetic."
"I'll have you know that I have a line of women and men alike willing to go on a date with me." Niklas turned up his nose arrogantly, waiting for praise.
Kaden raised his eyebrows. "Is that really something to brag about?"
"Of course, I'm blessed by my bloodline. Why wouldn't I boast about it? My father, too, had been charming in his youth."
The mention of Niklas' parents startled Kaden slightly. The other man rarely mentioned things in his personal life; not his family nor his life prior to the Academy. Kaden hadn't asked—he felt that if Niklas had wanted to share it, he would've.
"Are you saying he isn't anymore?"
"On the contrary, his widowed status makes him all the more popular. It's a little horrifying, honestly. He's more popular than me!"
Kaden fell silent. "He won't remarry?"
Niklas heard the awkwardness in the question and turned his gaze briefly. "He won't." He stared ahead distantly, smiling. "I think two times is enough for him—marriage is always a complicated business, and my father is a serious man who dislikes trouble."
"Your stepmother..."
"Are you curious, Kaden? I don't mind talking about her. I told you before, her favourite colour was pink." He took a breath, recalling all his distant memories. "She liked taking in strays. There were times I'd arrive home and see her tending to an injured bird, or a scruffy dog."
"My father was smitten with her. Their encounter was almost fateful. A beautiful runaway from home and a man that had never known love."
"A runaway?" Kaden wondered.
"She never told us explicitly, but it's impossible for my father to allow an unknown person to remain at his side. I'm certain she knew that he investigated her, and she understood why. My birth mother—it was a typical tale of a marriage built on greed. She wasn't kind. My father's priority had been me. Then, it became her and I."
The concept of families was both foreign and enticing to Kaden, who only knew the streets and the sliver of love given by Reed, or the obsession from Skye. A thing so foreign and unique, shaped by the people within it.
Families were made, not given. They could only be built through effort and vulnerability—if one expected everything to fall in place the moment their last names were tied, then it would fall apart with a mere touch.
Kaden remembered Rosa Alexandra Chauvet and her beautiful smile that incited happiness in those surrounding.
With golden hair spun from strays of sunlight and blue eyes that reflected the expanse of the brilliant blue skies, there wasn't a person who wouldn't love her. The Grand Duke, a cold man with a colder gaze, had been undone by her.
He pretended to not recognize Kaden's identity, allowing the miserable child to cling to his beloved.
Once, Kaden recalled distantly, he'd tripped at burst into tears after tearing the skin across his leg open. It wasn't more painful than anything he'd experienced before, but after being tended to by Rosa who gently eased him, he'd cried.
He'd cried at the affection he hadn't known.
The Duke had walked over quietly, a somber expression and quietly ruffled his hair. "You're strong," the Duke had remarked, even though Kaden had cried—even though he acted like a child.
Kaden wondered, with time, if he could've pretended to be part of their family. If that pretend could've been real—which was a foolish delusion, but he couldn't help but wonder.
Rosa had a son whom she adored, an intelligent and cheerful boy that she often spoke of. She wanted to introduce him, but Kaden was shy and trembled at the thought. Had they more time, perhaps Kaden would've had another brother.
"Tell me Kaden," said Niklas suddenly as the wind whistled around them, the horses' hooves colliding against the ground heavily. "My mother, not in blood but in all the ways that mattered, was the dearest to me. I would've died for her. I would've loved, even my most hated enemy, for her sake."
"And you? Did you have such a person?"
The sun was beginning to set, streaks of daylight slowly disappearing behind a darker shade and the clusters of clouds.
Kaden's lips felt dry as he ran his tongue over them. He gazed ahead at the darkening world laid before him. "There was somebody who cared for me. Who tended to my wounds and hugged me when I cried. Who offered my sweets and delights."
Niklas tipped his head down, shadows from his hat obscuring his expression. "Tell me about them."
"I would've died for her, too. I would've loved for her, I think. I didn't have enough time to know if I would, to understand how I felt. But I think if I defined family, it would've been her."
"What happened to her?"
"I killed her."
Niklas' grip on the reigns tightened as he took a deep breath. Kaden had already turned his head quietly, his pale pink hair fraying in the wind. He whispered once more in confession, "I killed her, Niklas. It was the first time."
"Yeah," breathed Niklas. "Thanks Kaden. For telling me."
"If this and being friends with me changes—"
"This doesn't change anything." Niklas turned his head finally, a slight smile on his lips. There was a deep tiredness in his gaze that Kaden hadn't noticed. "It doesn't change anything. Nothing you tell me can."
Kaden stared at him and nodded. "You know, Niklas. I don't fall asleep easily no matter how tired I am. Unless I'm in my room, I'm a light sleeper. It's a habit."
Niklas understood something in that second and laughed shakily. "Is that so?"
If Noah had realized something was unnatural about Niklas' perfect timing, then the skeptical sinner who'd lived a life of being abused, betrayed—a life of killing and being on defense,—could not be blind to the abnormalities either.
Kaden Chauvet was clumsy and awkward around his friends, self-hating and naive to certain things that others would know. He pretended to tease in all his confidence when he lacked confidence, and was fascinated by mundane things.
However, Kaden Chauvet was also a cold-blooded killer that had the weight of many lives on his bloodied hands. He was a surviver of the slums through sheer perseverance, violence and wit.
He was a surviver of the palace where his entire being was remade into something inhumane, hideous and terrible.
Kaden, in all his mistrust, could not overlook the strangeness in even his closest companions. Not even Niklas Astors—his first friend in this new life.
"But if you betray me, Niklas, if the secrets you're hiding go against everything,"
Niklas gritted his teeth, keeping his gaze fixated on the path ahead.
"I'll forgive you."
Niklas almost let go of the reigns as they lurched sideways before he regained control and spun his head. The corners of his eyes were tinged red, a myriad of emotions dancing across his normally cheerful expression.
Kaden continued to face the front, relishing in the cool breeze that brushed past his face. A small smile appeared on his lips making his demure peaceful and relaxed.
"Thank you Niklas. For being the first."
His first companion in this life.
Niklas swallowed any words he wanted to say. He wanted to cry, he decided.
No matter what happened, Kaden wouldn't regret his choices. He didn't want to regret anything that he didn't do.
That was the conclusion Kaden Chauvet reached.