Once they were actually inside the city, progress slowed significantly. Even though almost no one on the capital’s narrow streets had any desire to stand between a vanguard surrounded by armed zarovians, let alone two impatient manor lords, there was only so fast the vanguard could move without rolling over people. Which was apparently not allowed.
As they rolled onward, Samuel tapped his chin and leaned forward. “Lord, I have one other suggestion you should consider before we enter the temple.”
Drake did his best to be interested. “What’s up?”
“You should compel both Lydia and me not to reveal that you can lie.”
He hadn’t expected to hear that. “I can’t compel you to do anything.”
“That is not correct,” Samuel said patiently. “Over the past few days I have considered the ramifications of your decree, and I believe we can still use the blood pact to our advantage. All of your thralls may still choose to follow blood pact compulsion of their own volition.”
Drake silently considered Samuel’s statement and came up with nothing useful. “Yeah, and? Why would anyone do that?”
“If you compel us not to reveal that you can lie to others, we could choose to be compelled. That should protect us from revealing the fact that you can speak that which you do not believe... even if one or both of us were to be compelled by an obedience fetish.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “That’s something they can do?”
“Only in cases where they expect a manor lord is not sharing important information,” Lydia added quickly. “They do not routinely interrogate thralls or lords.”
“Yet it is a risk,” Samuel said. “While I have no precedent for how the court would react to the revelation that you can say things you do not believe, we should take all precautions. If you compel us not to speak of such things, we can choose to obey that compulsion. That will improve our security situation.”
“I don’t like it,” Drake said. “I took this job with the understanding I wasn’t going to use the blood pact to make you do anything.”
Samuel frowned. “You would not be—”
“You’d be choosing to obey, I know.” Drake sighed. “It makes sense, and I can see how it might work how you say it will. Do you really think we need to be that paranoid?”
Samuel simply stared at him. The answer was obvious.
“All right,” Drake said. “Lydia, Samuel, I compel you not to tell anyone that I can speak words I do not believe.” He paused. “Did that do it?”
Samuel nodded in satisfaction. “Based on my understanding of the blood pact, I believe so. We should perhaps confirm by having one of us don an obedience fetish—”
“We aren’t doing that,” Drake interrupted firmly.
His butler looked almost disappointed. “Then... we shall take other precautions as well.”
Drake peered at Lydia. “How do you feel about this?”
“Samuel is right,” Lydia said. “We must protect you, and by choosing to accept the compulsion you’ve given me, I no longer have to worry about being forced to betray your secrets if compelled by other magic. This is a great relief.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Drake said. “I still feel like kind of a jackass.”
As they continued toward the Temple of the Eidolons, they continued to move at a crawl. They were moving slowly enough that Tamara was able to walk up beside the carriage and deliver lunch when it came time for that, which Drake appreciated. He had read his dossiers on the other manors multiple times by the time his wagon finally slowed.
“We’re here?” he asked hopefully.
Samuel pulled back to the curtain to glance outside. “Yes.” He’d spent the day reviewing spy scrolls, so it made sense for him to check. “It should be safe to step into the courtyard. We are now in a walled and heavily guarded area reserved for arriving lords.”
“Glad that’s over. God.” Drake rubbed his face. “I’m amazed the manor lords put up with a crawl through the whole damn city without running people over.”
“They do not,” Samuel said. “A set of streets leading to the temple is always closed off for several days preceding a cabal. This allows manor lords and their vanguards to reach the temple with a minimum of trouble several days ahead of time. The route was closed yesterday since closing the roads causes difficulty. Most manor lords arrived days ahead of time.”
Drake groaned. “Yet more fuckery from Lord Proudglade and his three muskadicks. I’m still convinced he got our letters delayed. I can almost appreciate that level of pettiness.”
“Remember, that sort of talk must stay inside our carriage or our private chambers,” Samuel said firmly. “And I would not speak one ill word about the noble court within these walls. I cannot be sure someone will not overhear, and that would cause us difficulty.”
“I know, Samuel,” Drake said. “My mouth will be on its best behavior.” He glanced at the carriage door as Lydia opened it. “So long as it gets to eat delicious steamed crabs.”
Drake expected someone to attack him in the highly secured courtyard. He also expected someone to attack him in the halls of the Temple of the Eidolons, or for assassins to be waiting in the private chambers reserved for him and his thralls. He even expected some sort of magical bullshit to turn his big guest bed into a ravenous flesh-eating monster, but it turned out to be just a bed. A soft, fluffy, comfy bed.
He hadn’t slept on one of those in almost a week.
How could he continue to exist in this world if he had to be this damn paranoid? How could he not be this paranoid and continue to exist? These were the paradoxes he imagined a manor lord encountered between their twentieth and thirtieth assassination attempts. He had little to do but pace as his servants settled in, and then night came.
Along with the delicious steamed crabs Samuel claimed were the best in the city.
Once Drake was stuffed with crab meat and more than a buzzed on some delicious intoxicant that was a mix between mead and wine, he was in a considerably better mood than he had been earlier that day. He’d made it to the capital despite the obstacles Lord Proudglade and his cavalcade of assholes had tossed in his way, and he’d gotten Sky here as well.
He hoped Lord Proudglade was still seething about that. He’d like nothing more than to march up to the man and break his nose, but he’d settle for giving him an ulcer. Once Emily verified no souls were close enough to shoot him and Samuel verified there was no more manor business to conclude, Drake even got to sit outside on the balcony and have a drink.
From up here, at least, the city smelled like salt and stone, with a warm breeze and warmer temperatures to back it up. He only realized how constantly he had been cold when he once again felt truly warm air. While Emily and Lydia both vetoed him removing his silverweave on the balcony—magic could strike him from anywhere—he at least got to kick off his boots and enjoy the feeling of warm air on his feet and toes.
This. This was why he’d decided to become a manor lord. The assassination attempts weren’t fun, but he also got his own chambers in the noble temple and a view off a balcony that was only available to privileged SOBs like himself.
From ten stories up, the sprawling city below was laid out before him like a red patchwork blanket leading to the beautiful blue bay. If he could get away with it, he’d toss on a swimsuit tomorrow and go for a swim in that gorgeous blue water. Maybe he could find a way to slip out in disguise and check out the beach before he returned to his cold, silver trees.
Drake was sitting barefoot on the balcony, pleasantly buzzed, with Emily leaning contentedly on the balcony railing, when the sound of slippered feet against stone told him he wasn’t going to get to relax any longer. It was time for more manor lord bullshit.
He glanced up to find Lydia waiting. “What just exploded?”
“Did you request another meeting with Lord Skybreak?”
“I did not. I’m not quite that stealthy yet.”
“She has just arrived and is asking to speak with you. Along with her mother.”
Drake straightened in the chair and nearly tipped over his drink. “All right, so, not the worst surprise. And it makes sense to meet ahead of the cabal tomorrow, right?”
“Perhaps. However, I do not know why Lord Skybreak would wish to meet with you in the temple this late. If she had business to discuss with you beyond that which we covered at supper yesterday, she would have stopped us before we entered the city.”
“Unless she’s just learned something important she had to bring to me at once, despite whatever consternation it might cause among the other manor lords.” Drake pulled on his boots. “You’d better show her in.”
Lydia still looked somewhat annoyed. “Once the other manor lords learn of your late night meeting, they will suspect all sorts of conspiracies are afoot.”
“That’s great! Keeps ‘em guessing.” Drake looked in disappointment at the city sprawled out below. “Though I guess I’ll have to enjoy this view another night.”
“Or!” Emily loudly suggested, “you could invite Lord Skybreak out here to share some of this lovely mead with you.” She smiled coyly. “And you could enjoy the view together. Grow... closer.”
“Stop,” he warned her. “This isn’t that.”
“Isn’t what, lord?” Emily’s grin only widened. “An unannounced and late night visit from the beautiful and unattached manor lord you so recently snatched from the jaws of certain doom? Perhaps she has come up to show her gratitude for your bold rescue?”
“Her mother’s with her.”
“Then perhaps her mother has decided to show you gratitude as well?”
Drake groaned. “No more mead for you tonight, young lady.”
Emily chortled as she turned again to look over the city. “Enjoy your date, lord!”
As Drake followed Lydia off the balcony, she led him to a smaller room off his main chambers with a round table and four wooden seats. There were no servants in here and no luggage, so this room was likely reserved specifically for private meetings.
Drake didn’t fail to note there was only one way in and out of this room and absolutely no windows. Even this far inside the private rooms set aside for him and his vanguard, security remained as tight as ever. Good. After the last few weeks, he could use some decent security.
“If you’ll wait here, lord, I’ll admit your guests,” Lydia said.
Drake smiled as she turned away. “Finally comfortable enough to leave me alone?”
“Of course not,” Lydia said as she strode away. “Nicole is sitting right behind you.”
Drake jumped in his chair as Nicole then melted into view and thumped the table with a closed fist. “You absolute traitor!” she called after Lydia. “I was hoping he’d pick his nose!”
He scowled at her. “Well good evening to you too.”
Nicole offered her most impish grin and brushed her brown hair back from her gray eyes. “Thank you for the lovely supper. It really was delicious.”
Drake nodded as several things became clear. “Now I know why we were five crabs light on our order. You didn’t want to eat with the rest of us?”
“Val needed feeding,” Nicole said. “And indulgences.”
And now Drake knew why Valentia had missed supper too. He’d assumed she was outside patrolling the halls or watching the doors. Good for them.
He turned back to watch the only door leading into this room. “Well, whatever you’ve been doing, keep doing that. She needs to relax more than she does.”
“Oh, trust me, lord, I know how to melt Val. I get her all gooey.”
Drake simply nodded, hoping that would be the end of this discussion.
“Also, do you have any suggestions for prying one’s tongue off an ice cube?”
Drake rubbed his face with both hands. “No more mead for you either.”
“That’s cruel, lord. I haven’t had a drop all night.”
Drake’s savior from awkward conversations, Lord Skybreak, chose that moment to make her approach known by the clicking of her heeled boots. Lydia walked into view and then spun to face the direction from which Drake heard Sky approach.
“He’s right in here,” Lydia announced.
Nicole pushed back her chair with a loud creak, rose, stretched, yawned, and sauntered around the table. “That’s my cue to go be inconspicuous elsewhere. Have fun!”
He waved sarcastically. “You too!”
Drake remembered he should stand a moment before Lord Skybreak rounded the corner, then stared when she arrived. She wore the same silverweave she’d worn at their dinner last night, but it looked like she’d dressed hastily. Only one braid was in any sort of shape to be called a braid, and the rest of her blond hair was pinned up messily.
Also, he smelled alcohol on her breath. Strong alcohol. She’d been having a good time.
“You’ve been drinking?” Drake asked before he could stop himself.
She stepped into the small room. “I did not expect this meeting to occur tonight.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Me too. I drink. All the time.” He nodded to Viktoria as she entered as well. “Lady Skybreak.”
“No need for formality,” Viktoria told him. “Can we speak freely?”
“Hey Lydia?” Drake called. “Can we speak freely?”
“Yes, lord!”
“We’re good,” Drake told them. “What’s up?”
Viktoria walked past him, pulled out a seat, and settled herself with all the dignity he would expect of a former manor lord. “You should sit down, lord.”
“That bad, huh?” Drake sighed, backed into his seat, and sat. “Lay it on me.”
Sky continued to stand, even visibly fidgeting as her gaze alternated between the door, the wall, and her mother. He had never seen her look this out of sorts. Even after he surprised her with Valentia’s testimony, she’d only been shocked for a few seconds.
“Lord Skybreak,” Viktoria said calmly. “You should sit as well.”
Sky scowled, then walked around the table to snatch a seat facing the door. She pulled it out, plopped down, and crossed her hands in her lap. Drake didn’t fail to notice she hadn’t looked at him since she first walked into the room.
He focused his attention on Viktoria. “Do I need to call my spymaster for this?”
“If he has not spoken to you yet, then I would expect him to speak to you about this matter shortly after we leave. While I would otherwise take pleasure in knowing my spies outpaced those of the Rope Tree, I take no pleasure in tonight’s news.”
“You folks call Samuel the Rope Tree?” Drake remembered the story Samuel had told him in the carriage, about a tree that knocked people out with its roots and drowned them in quicksand. “Now I wonder if I should be worried.”
“Never about Samuel,” Viktoria said confidently. “Not so long as you are Lord Gloomwood. And since my daughter has allied us with Gloomwood Manor, we are obligated to stand beside you in all matters save if you commit an unforgivable crime.”
Drake’s whole body chilled as Viktoria brushed far too close to the matter he’d thought he’d concluded weeks ago. When he lied to Westin and assured the man Lord Crow had passed his title onto Drake before he attempted to summon a demon in the manor’s torture dungeon.
This couldn’t be about that. He’d solved that problem, hadn’t he? He’d even planned to deliver his official cover story to the noble court tomorrow before the cabal, so...
“Despite their best efforts, my spies in the capital have been unable to uncover the purpose of this abrupt and unusual cabal,” Viktoria said calmly. “However, my spies were able to uncover the subject on which the cabal is to be focused.”
“Focused?” Drake looked between Viktoria and Sky, then groaned. “It’s Gloomwood Manor, isn’t it? It’s always us. I fucking knew this was going to happen.”
Viktoria watched him calmly. “Is there something you wish to share with your allies?”
“I knew this would happen because it’s just my luck. Since the moment I arrived, I’ve had one grenade after another tossed my way. And if I understand what you’re telling me, this cabal was called because of something the other manors think we did.”
“No, Lord Gloomwood,” Viktoria said. “Something you did.”
“Something...” Drake paused. “You mean me personally?”
“Yes. This cabal was specifically called to discuss you.”
Once they were actually inside the city, progress slowed significantly. Even though almost no one on the capital’s narrow streets had any desire to stand between a vanguard surrounded by armed zarovians, let alone two impatient manor lords, there was only so fast the vanguard could move without rolling over people. Which was apparently not allowed.
As they rolled onward, Samuel tapped his chin and leaned forward. “Lord, I have one other suggestion you should consider before we enter the temple.”
Drake did his best to be interested. “What’s up?”
“You should compel both Lydia and me not to reveal that you can lie.”
He hadn’t expected to hear that. “I can’t compel you to do anything.”
“That is not correct,” Samuel said patiently. “Over the past few days I have considered the ramifications of your decree, and I believe we can still use the blood pact to our advantage. All of your thralls may still choose to follow blood pact compulsion of their own volition.”
Drake silently considered Samuel’s statement and came up with nothing useful. “Yeah, and? Why would anyone do that?”
“If you compel us not to reveal that you can lie to others, we could choose to be compelled. That should protect us from revealing the fact that you can speak that which you do not believe... even if one or both of us were to be compelled by an obedience fetish.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “That’s something they can do?”
“Only in cases where they expect a manor lord is not sharing important information,” Lydia added quickly. “They do not routinely interrogate thralls or lords.”
“Yet it is a risk,” Samuel said. “While I have no precedent for how the court would react to the revelation that you can say things you do not believe, we should take all precautions. If you compel us not to speak of such things, we can choose to obey that compulsion. That will improve our security situation.”
“I don’t like it,” Drake said. “I took this job with the understanding I wasn’t going to use the blood pact to make you do anything.”
Samuel frowned. “You would not be—”
“You’d be choosing to obey, I know.” Drake sighed. “It makes sense, and I can see how it might work how you say it will. Do you really think we need to be that paranoid?”
Samuel simply stared at him. The answer was obvious.
“All right,” Drake said. “Lydia, Samuel, I compel you not to tell anyone that I can speak words I do not believe.” He paused. “Did that do it?”
Samuel nodded in satisfaction. “Based on my understanding of the blood pact, I believe so. We should perhaps confirm by having one of us don an obedience fetish—”
“We aren’t doing that,” Drake interrupted firmly.
His butler looked almost disappointed. “Then... we shall take other precautions as well.”
Drake peered at Lydia. “How do you feel about this?”
“Samuel is right,” Lydia said. “We must protect you, and by choosing to accept the compulsion you’ve given me, I no longer have to worry about being forced to betray your secrets if compelled by other magic. This is a great relief.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Drake said. “I still feel like kind of a jackass.”
As they continued toward the Temple of the Eidolons, they continued to move at a crawl. They were moving slowly enough that Tamara was able to walk up beside the carriage and deliver lunch when it came time for that, which Drake appreciated. He had read his dossiers on the other manors multiple times by the time his wagon finally slowed.
“We’re here?” he asked hopefully.
Samuel pulled back to the curtain to glance outside. “Yes.” He’d spent the day reviewing spy scrolls, so it made sense for him to check. “It should be safe to step into the courtyard. We are now in a walled and heavily guarded area reserved for arriving lords.”
“Glad that’s over. God.” Drake rubbed his face. “I’m amazed the manor lords put up with a crawl through the whole damn city without running people over.”
“They do not,” Samuel said. “A set of streets leading to the temple is always closed off for several days preceding a cabal. This allows manor lords and their vanguards to reach the temple with a minimum of trouble several days ahead of time. The route was closed yesterday since closing the roads causes difficulty. Most manor lords arrived days ahead of time.”
Drake groaned. “Yet more fuckery from Lord Proudglade and his three muskadicks. I’m still convinced he got our letters delayed. I can almost appreciate that level of pettiness.”
“Remember, that sort of talk must stay inside our carriage or our private chambers,” Samuel said firmly. “And I would not speak one ill word about the noble court within these walls. I cannot be sure someone will not overhear, and that would cause us difficulty.”
“I know, Samuel,” Drake said. “My mouth will be on its best behavior.” He glanced at the carriage door as Lydia opened it. “So long as it gets to eat delicious steamed crabs.”
Drake expected someone to attack him in the highly secured courtyard. He also expected someone to attack him in the halls of the Temple of the Eidolons, or for assassins to be waiting in the private chambers reserved for him and his thralls. He even expected some sort of magical bullshit to turn his big guest bed into a ravenous flesh-eating monster, but it turned out to be just a bed. A soft, fluffy, comfy bed.
He hadn’t slept on one of those in almost a week.
How could he continue to exist in this world if he had to be this damn paranoid? How could he not be this paranoid and continue to exist? These were the paradoxes he imagined a manor lord encountered between their twentieth and thirtieth assassination attempts. He had little to do but pace as his servants settled in, and then night came.
Along with the delicious steamed crabs Samuel claimed were the best in the city.
Once Drake was stuffed with crab meat and more than a buzzed on some delicious intoxicant that was a mix between mead and wine, he was in a considerably better mood than he had been earlier that day. He’d made it to the capital despite the obstacles Lord Proudglade and his cavalcade of assholes had tossed in his way, and he’d gotten Sky here as well.
He hoped Lord Proudglade was still seething about that. He’d like nothing more than to march up to the man and break his nose, but he’d settle for giving him an ulcer. Once Emily verified no souls were close enough to shoot him and Samuel verified there was no more manor business to conclude, Drake even got to sit outside on the balcony and have a drink.
From up here, at least, the city smelled like salt and stone, with a warm breeze and warmer temperatures to back it up. He only realized how constantly he had been cold when he once again felt truly warm air. While Emily and Lydia both vetoed him removing his silverweave on the balcony—magic could strike him from anywhere—he at least got to kick off his boots and enjoy the feeling of warm air on his feet and toes.
This. This was why he’d decided to become a manor lord. The assassination attempts weren’t fun, but he also got his own chambers in the noble temple and a view off a balcony that was only available to privileged SOBs like himself.
From ten stories up, the sprawling city below was laid out before him like a red patchwork blanket leading to the beautiful blue bay. If he could get away with it, he’d toss on a swimsuit tomorrow and go for a swim in that gorgeous blue water. Maybe he could find a way to slip out in disguise and check out the beach before he returned to his cold, silver trees.
Drake was sitting barefoot on the balcony, pleasantly buzzed, with Emily leaning contentedly on the balcony railing, when the sound of slippered feet against stone told him he wasn’t going to get to relax any longer. It was time for more manor lord bullshit.
He glanced up to find Lydia waiting. “What just exploded?”
“Did you request another meeting with Lord Skybreak?”
“I did not. I’m not quite that stealthy yet.”
“She has just arrived and is asking to speak with you. Along with her mother.”
Drake straightened in the chair and nearly tipped over his drink. “All right, so, not the worst surprise. And it makes sense to meet ahead of the cabal tomorrow, right?”
“Perhaps. However, I do not know why Lord Skybreak would wish to meet with you in the temple this late. If she had business to discuss with you beyond that which we covered at supper yesterday, she would have stopped us before we entered the city.”
“Unless she’s just learned something important she had to bring to me at once, despite whatever consternation it might cause among the other manor lords.” Drake pulled on his boots. “You’d better show her in.”
Lydia still looked somewhat annoyed. “Once the other manor lords learn of your late night meeting, they will suspect all sorts of conspiracies are afoot.”
“That’s great! Keeps ‘em guessing.” Drake looked in disappointment at the city sprawled out below. “Though I guess I’ll have to enjoy this view another night.”
“Or!” Emily loudly suggested, “you could invite Lord Skybreak out here to share some of this lovely mead with you.” She smiled coyly. “And you could enjoy the view together. Grow... closer.”
“Stop,” he warned her. “This isn’t that.”
“Isn’t what, lord?” Emily’s grin only widened. “An unannounced and late night visit from the beautiful and unattached manor lord you so recently snatched from the jaws of certain doom? Perhaps she has come up to show her gratitude for your bold rescue?”
“Her mother’s with her.”
“Then perhaps her mother has decided to show you gratitude as well?”
Drake groaned. “No more mead for you tonight, young lady.”
Emily chortled as she turned again to look over the city. “Enjoy your date, lord!”
As Drake followed Lydia off the balcony, she led him to a smaller room off his main chambers with a round table and four wooden seats. There were no servants in here and no luggage, so this room was likely reserved specifically for private meetings.
Drake didn’t fail to note there was only one way in and out of this room and absolutely no windows. Even this far inside the private rooms set aside for him and his vanguard, security remained as tight as ever. Good. After the last few weeks, he could use some decent security.
“If you’ll wait here, lord, I’ll admit your guests,” Lydia said.
Drake smiled as she turned away. “Finally comfortable enough to leave me alone?”
“Of course not,” Lydia said as she strode away. “Nicole is sitting right behind you.”
Drake jumped in his chair as Nicole then melted into view and thumped the table with a closed fist. “You absolute traitor!” she called after Lydia. “I was hoping he’d pick his nose!”
He scowled at her. “Well good evening to you too.”
Nicole offered her most impish grin and brushed her brown hair back from her gray eyes. “Thank you for the lovely supper. It really was delicious.”
Drake nodded as several things became clear. “Now I know why we were five crabs light on our order. You didn’t want to eat with the rest of us?”
“Val needed feeding,” Nicole said. “And indulgences.”
And now Drake knew why Valentia had missed supper too. He’d assumed she was outside patrolling the halls or watching the doors. Good for them.
He turned back to watch the only door leading into this room. “Well, whatever you’ve been doing, keep doing that. She needs to relax more than she does.”
“Oh, trust me, lord, I know how to melt Val. I get her all gooey.”
Drake simply nodded, hoping that would be the end of this discussion.
“Also, do you have any suggestions for prying one’s tongue off an ice cube?”
Drake rubbed his face with both hands. “No more mead for you either.”
“That’s cruel, lord. I haven’t had a drop all night.”
Drake’s savior from awkward conversations, Lord Skybreak, chose that moment to make her approach known by the clicking of her heeled boots. Lydia walked into view and then spun to face the direction from which Drake heard Sky approach.
“He’s right in here,” Lydia announced.
Nicole pushed back her chair with a loud creak, rose, stretched, yawned, and sauntered around the table. “That’s my cue to go be inconspicuous elsewhere. Have fun!”
He waved sarcastically. “You too!”
Drake remembered he should stand a moment before Lord Skybreak rounded the corner, then stared when she arrived. She wore the same silverweave she’d worn at their dinner last night, but it looked like she’d dressed hastily. Only one braid was in any sort of shape to be called a braid, and the rest of her blond hair was pinned up messily.
Also, he smelled alcohol on her breath. Strong alcohol. She’d been having a good time.
“You’ve been drinking?” Drake asked before he could stop himself.
She stepped into the small room. “I did not expect this meeting to occur tonight.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Me too. I drink. All the time.” He nodded to Viktoria as she entered as well. “Lady Skybreak.”
“No need for formality,” Viktoria told him. “Can we speak freely?”
“Hey Lydia?” Drake called. “Can we speak freely?”
“Yes, lord!”
“We’re good,” Drake told them. “What’s up?”
Viktoria walked past him, pulled out a seat, and settled herself with all the dignity he would expect of a former manor lord. “You should sit down, lord.”
“That bad, huh?” Drake sighed, backed into his seat, and sat. “Lay it on me.”
Sky continued to stand, even visibly fidgeting as her gaze alternated between the door, the wall, and her mother. He had never seen her look this out of sorts. Even after he surprised her with Valentia’s testimony, she’d only been shocked for a few seconds.
“Lord Skybreak,” Viktoria said calmly. “You should sit as well.”
Sky scowled, then walked around the table to snatch a seat facing the door. She pulled it out, plopped down, and crossed her hands in her lap. Drake didn’t fail to notice she hadn’t looked at him since she first walked into the room.
He focused his attention on Viktoria. “Do I need to call my spymaster for this?”
“If he has not spoken to you yet, then I would expect him to speak to you about this matter shortly after we leave. While I would otherwise take pleasure in knowing my spies outpaced those of the Rope Tree, I take no pleasure in tonight’s news.”
“You folks call Samuel the Rope Tree?” Drake remembered the story Samuel had told him in the carriage, about a tree that knocked people out with its roots and drowned them in quicksand. “Now I wonder if I should be worried.”
“Never about Samuel,” Viktoria said confidently. “Not so long as you are Lord Gloomwood. And since my daughter has allied us with Gloomwood Manor, we are obligated to stand beside you in all matters save if you commit an unforgivable crime.”
Drake’s whole body chilled as Viktoria brushed far too close to the matter he’d thought he’d concluded weeks ago. When he lied to Westin and assured the man Lord Crow had passed his title onto Drake before he attempted to summon a demon in the manor’s torture dungeon.
This couldn’t be about that. He’d solved that problem, hadn’t he? He’d even planned to deliver his official cover story to the noble court tomorrow before the cabal, so...
“Despite their best efforts, my spies in the capital have been unable to uncover the purpose of this abrupt and unusual cabal,” Viktoria said calmly. “However, my spies were able to uncover the subject on which the cabal is to be focused.”
“Focused?” Drake looked between Viktoria and Sky, then groaned. “It’s Gloomwood Manor, isn’t it? It’s always us. I fucking knew this was going to happen.”
Viktoria watched him calmly. “Is there something you wish to share with your allies?”
“I knew this would happen because it’s just my luck. Since the moment I arrived, I’ve had one grenade after another tossed my way. And if I understand what you’re telling me, this cabal was called because of something the other manors think we did.”
“No, Lord Gloomwood,” Viktoria said. “Something you did.”
“Something...” Drake paused. “You mean me personally?”
“Yes. This cabal was specifically called to discuss you.”
