After all his baths Drake managed a few hours of sleep, which meant he actually slept until just before lunch. He had no cabal today, and no other business to attend to so long as the noble court continued to investigate the fish people attack. He’d had a late night and deserved a little rest. So when the knock came at his door past noon, he almost didn’t answer.
But he did anyway.
“I’m awake!” he called.
“Darion is up now!” Nicole called through the door. “Do you wish to induct him today, or do want to wait until after another lord abducts him?”
Drake sat up, yawned, and looked the door. “Out soon!”
Once he’d dressed in his manor lord best and mashed down his stubborn hair as best he could—he was still convinced there were some bits of brain or flesh hidden in there—he knocked on his own door. Nicole opened it. He stepped outside to join her.
“How’s he looking?” Drake asked quietly. “Is he horribly disfigured? Are we going to have to get him a mask or something?”
“He’s looking just fine, lord,” Nicole said coyly. “More than fine, by Emily’s standards.”
Drake eyed her. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
He obviously wasn’t going to get any more than that out of her, and he wasn’t in the mood to try. “Fine. Where is he now?”
“Last I saw, he was standing in the common room.”
The sound of laughter, and lots of it, came from that direction. It was all female laughter, too. Was Emily trying to balance plates on her head again?
Drake hoped not. Last time she’d tried that, they’d lost half the cabinet. As he walked that direction, he glanced back at Nicole. “Are you coming?”
“It’s my turn to guard the door!” she called. “Plus, I just don’t want to.”
He looked ahead. “Just be careful out there.”
“When am I not?” she asked irritably.
The common room was about twice the size of his master bedroom, with two narrow doors leading out onto the balcony. It included chairs scattered all around its edges as well as several tables in the center and a number of long, comfortable benches. Visitors could drink, eat, play games, and so on.
He entered it to find a scene he didn’t expect. Darion—and it must be Darion, since he was a tall, dark-haired, and unusually handsome young man Drake didn’t know, dressed in fine clothes—stood between several tables surrounded by four of Drake’s current staff, including Tamara. All women. All were also laughing in delight.
The only woman not standing in the pack around Darion was Lydia. She glanced at him as he entered, and the smile that immediately lightened her face felt good. She looked away before he could smile back, so he’d take that as relief he wasn’t covered in blood and brains.
Emily was there as well, standing much closer to Darion than the man was likely comfortable with. She was grinning the way she grinned when she knew she’d made someone uncomfortable, except Darion didn’t look uncomfortable at all. Also, Emily was visibly more flushed than normal. Which was weird.
In fact, every woman currently in Darion’s confident, smiling orbit displayed some variation of a blush, doe eyes, or a besotted grin as they clustered around him... save Lydia. And as the man glanced his way and stood at attention, Drake understood why.
There was no trace of damage to his face, and he had a fine face. Darion offered a thousand-watt smile that would have been right at home on a Hollywood boardwalk. Yet it wasn’t a smile that immediately made Drake dislike him, or a smile like some snooty noble who thought he was too good for everyone else.
Rather, it was a warm, confident, and genuine smile. Drake couldn’t explain why, but Darion struck him as a genuinely nice guy rather than a smug asshole. Given how attractive Lark was, it was no surprise her brother could turn heads as well. Darion was, Drake could confidently say without feeling weird about it, a good-looking man.
As he approached the group, Drake then began to wonder if adding Darion to his manor was going to provide his manor staff with more benefits than he’d planned. The ratio of women to men in his manor remained two-to-one. After he added Darion, the man might find himself busy with a lot more than simply stitching people’s flesh back together.
Drake just hoped he didn’t end up with another Lord Blackmane, though Darion, at least, wouldn’t be in charge of other thralls. There was no messy power differential to contend with here. So long as everyone was a consenting adult, Drake wasn’t going to get involved.
“There he is now!” Emily said excitedly. “Darion, this is our lord.”
Darion ignored the grinning red-haired battle maid who was currently watching him like she wanted to jump his bones. He bowed smoothly at the waist, which gave Emily a great opportunity to stare at his backside. Which she took, shamelessly.
Drake hoped jealousy wouldn’t become a problem with any of the staff. “Rise,” he said as he approached. “My thralls don’t bow to me.”
“Forgive me, Lord Gloomwood,” Darion said smoothly. “I misunderstood Emily.”
“No you didn’t,” Emily said. “I just wanted to see you bend over.”
Was this sexual harassment? Did they even have a concept of sexual harassment in this world? Either way, Darion didn’t seem to mind all the female attention, so if Emily become a problem for him, he’d talk to her. Regardless, Drake decided to give the man some peace.
He looked at his people. “I imagine it’s about time to prepare lunch?”
Tamara inclined her head and then turned on the others. “Let’s get busy, everyone.” She shooed the other maids away, all of whom immediately complied... though one or two offered longing glances at the new thrall as they scurried away.
Lydia stayed. As for Emily, she moved far enough away to give Darion space, but still remained close enough that a few steps would bring her back. She also seemed absolutely unabashed about hungrily staring at him, even if he wasn’t looking her direction.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you, lord,” Darion said softly. “You saved my life last night and, more importantly, you protected my sister. Even swearing my lifelong loyalty seems like a poor recompense for all you’ve done.”
“It’s fine.” Drake shrugged. “Your rarity will serve me well.”
“As will I, lord. After last night, I will die for you if I have to.”
“Great.” This man couldn’t lie. “Do you know what’s involved in becoming my blood thrall?”
“Only that I must say the words you provide. And please, Lord Gloomwood, allow me to say just how honored I am to be allowed to serve you.”
“You came highly recommended,” Drake said. “However, I also don’t need you to blow smoke up my ass.”
Darion frowned for the first time. “Blow... smoke up your...?”
“Sorry.” Drake raised a hand. “It’s an expression from my world. You don’t need to constantly remind me how awesome I am. I’m not that type of manor lord. All I need you to do is do your job and protect me, my manor, and my people. Can you do that?”
“With my life, lord!”
“Great.” Drake nodded. “Now, you ready to do the thing?”
“You mean... to be inducted in your blood pact?”
Drake couldn’t blame the man for checking. “Yes.”
Darion offered his arm, palm up. “I am ready.”
Behind him, Drake didn’t miss as Emily pumped her fist. He had no idea how forceful Emily got during sex, but given how forceful she got about everything else, he had his suspicions. She hoped she wasn’t too rough with Darion the first time.
Drake pulled his handy letter opener—which was really more of a body opener at this point—from his pocket. “Just so you’re aware, I heal quickly. So I’m going to make a far larger incision than normal. You’ll need to slap your hand atop mine and not dawdle.”
“I understand, lord. However, I do not have anything with which to cut my...”
He trailed off as Emily eagerly shoved a small knife into his hand.
“Here you go!” she said happily.
At this moment, Darion’s life was likely now in more danger than it had been when he was a prisoner of the Asp. If he made any move toward Drake with that knife, it would be a toss up as to whether Emily soul chopped him before Lydia flutterstepped over and cut his throat. Yet Drake could regenerate, and he sensed no malice or trickery from this man.
Darion opened his palm and sliced it, then grimaced. “Oh!”
Emily was now standing practically on top of him. “First time?”
Drake eyed her. “Could you give our new thrall some space?”
“I just want to protect you, lord!” She did, however, back up. Incrementally.
Drake jammed his letter opener into his own palm, then gritted his teeth as he tore his flesh open and continued to do so. He was getting better at enduring this sort of pain, but it still hurt like hell. He offered his bloody hand. Darion clasped it tightly.
“Once I’m done inviting you, say the words ‘Beneath the eyes of the Eidolons, I swear undying loyalty to you, Lord Gloomwood. I will serve as your blood thrall.’ Got it?”
Darion nodded.
“As Lord of Gloomwood, I ask you to join my blood pact.”
Darion repeated the words he’d been given as smoothly as if he’d rehearsed them a dozen times. Drake felt a faint tug inside his body and a brief rush of warmth as the magic pact sealed, and then he released Darion’s hand. It was done.
The man drew his hand back to his chest, keeping his bloody palm up, and then touched the fingers of his other hand to it. His flesh knitted together before Drake’s eyes, which assured him the man hadn’t lied about his fleshbind rarity. Not that he could lie. Still... useful skill.
“Oh!” Emily already had a handkerchief out. “I was going to wrap that hand for you!”
“No need,” Darion assured her confidently, and looked to Drake. “Lord? I can heal your palm as well.”
Drake showed the man his palm, which had already healed on its own. “I’ve got it.”
Darion’s eyes widened. “That’s very impressive.”
“Our lord is very impressive,” Emily agreed. “And welcome to Gloomwood Manor!”
Nicole chose that moment to wander back into the room for some reason. “Make sure you let him settle in before you break him in.”
Darion looked between them, visibly unsure for the first time. “Is there some sort of initiation ritual?”
“There could be,” Emily said hungrily.
Lydia cleared her throat. “Emily, aren’t you needed in the kitchen?”
“No.”
Lydia watched her for a long moment.
“Oh!” Emily said. “Perhaps they could use help in the kitchen.” She slapped Darion on the arm hard enough the man wobbled. “I look forward to working with you!”
Darion smiled grandly. “Oh! Uh... same!”
A loud knock came on the door to the chamber.
Lydia glanced at Nicole and frowned, visibly irritated. “I told you to watch the door.”
“I am watching it,” she said. “I can see it from right here.”
“I’ll get it!” Emily shouted. She hurried to the door.
Drake sighed and turned back to Darion. “So. You’ve met the maids and probably every other woman in my manor. Before you head off to get... settled in... there’s one more decree I need to make. And I warn you, it’s a weird one.”
Darion nodded gravely. “I am yours to command, Lord Gloomwood.”
For the next few seconds, anyway. “So, as your manor lord—”
“Hey!” Emily shouted angrily. “You all stop right there!”
Drake looked to the door to find Emily standing with her feet spread in a battle stance, and more importantly, with her spectral battle axe glowing in one hand. Goddammit. Was this about him making the Asp explode in the middle of the street yesterday morning?
Drake left Darion to gawk and hurried to the door. “The fuck is this now?”
It took him but a moment to recognize that the people standing outside his door weren’t kromians, or assassins, or any of the types of people who usually tried to kill him. They looked to be capital guards. The wore the same black ferrocite all the capital guards wore.
The inquisitor he remembered from earlier today stepped from within the ranks. “Lord Gloomwood! On orders of the noble court, I order you to order your thrall to stand down!”
“You are not coming in here!” Emily said. “Try it and you are getting soul chopped!”
“Emily, let’s not kill any capital guards.” At least not until I know why they’re banging on my door with... just how many of them are out there?
As Lydia hurried to his side, Drake touched the arm in which Emily wasn’t holding a soul-chopping battle axe. “Stand down.”
“But, lord—”
“That’s an order,” Drake said. “But if they try to hurt me, you can still chop them.”
She grumbled as her axe disappeared. “You bet I will.”
Drake turned to the mass of armored soldiers gathered outside. “What’s this about? Do you have another question about the fish people?”
There were at least eight capital guards with the inquisitor. Maybe even more. It was a narrow hall. There could be a full platoon standing back there.
“No,” the inquisitor said. “We do, however, request that you come with us.”
“Fine,” Emily said petulantly. “But we’re all going with him.”
“We request that you, Lord Gloomwood, come with us. Alone. The capital guard will see to your security. You will order your thralls to remain here in your chambers.”
Drake glanced at Emily, then at Lydia. Then, he glanced back at the inquisitor. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening. Not until you tell me what this is all about.”
The inquisitor scowled. “Are you refusing an order from the noble court?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Who sent you?”
The inquisitor sighed. “I was sent here by the Judge.”
“And the men behind you? She sent them too?”
“No, but all of them serve me and are also sworn not to harm you, lord. And since I asked for them to accompany me, I sent them. And I, Inquisitor Grayson, am not here to harm you. I am simply here to escort you to a meeting with the Judge at her request.”
“As in the lady who runs the noble court?” Drake asked.
“The Judge administrates it,” Grayson corrected. “Which you, as a manor lord, must know. So please, let us dispense with your mockery. We have all had a very stressful day.”
Drake offered him an intentionally sardonic smile. “No shit, you too?”
Lydia gripped his forearm. “Do not do this, lord. You cannot go with them alone.”
He glanced at her. “Yeah? What’s the alternative?”
“I chop them,” Emily added from his other side.
Drake chuckled and glanced at her. “No, Emily. That’s not going to work this time.” He looked to the inquisitor again. “Have you come to imprison me? Is that your plan?”
“No,” Grayson said. “You have been invited to a private meeting with the Judge. We will not detain you once that meeting concludes. You will remain free to leave at any time.”
“So I can leave this meeting with the Judge whenever I like?”
“That is what I just stated.” Grayson grimaced. “This is an invitation.”
“And if I turn that invitation down?”
“The Judge would be... offended.”
He looked to Lydia again. “How bad is an offended Judge?”
She looked physically uncomfortable. “Very bad, lord. I do not like the idea of you visiting with her alone, but I also know it is very unusual for her to ask to meet with a manor lord in private. Such meetings happen rarely to avoid any appearance of impropriety.”
In other words, if she met privately with manor lords during a cabal, it could be easy to think she was taking a bribe. If she was willing to risk that sort of gossip, this must be important. “So this might be a good thing.”
“I cannot say.” Lydia sighed heavily. “I do not want to let you do this, but I also do not know that we can refuse. Not if we wish to retain the favor of the noble court.”
It would be bad to lose that. Drake saw no way around this. These did look to be capital guards, and the inquisitor’s statements were straightforward. His new and healthy paranoia suggested that going anywhere without his battle maids and sworn blood thralls to protect him was always a bad idea, but he also couldn’t hide in his chambers forever.
“Hey,” Drake said. “Remember what you said about those little crabs?”
Lydia’s lips pressed together.
“At some point, I have to come out and play.”
A private meeting with the Judge where he could air his accusations about Lord Redbow and his wink back before the attack might be a very good opportunity to further make his case that the other manor lords were at fault for... well, everything. If he could bend the Judge’s ear in private, perhaps he could even get some money shaved off his tithe for the prior lord’s habit of illegally exchanging magical artifacts. Or something.
By comparison, if he refused to accept the Judge’s invitation or, worse, ordered Emily to chop the souls of a bunch of capital guards, the noble court was going to order every other manor lord to get together, execute him, and burn his manor the ground.
Not much of a choice. Also, there were ways he could spin this to his advantage. Sometimes, he was going to have to step out of his little hole in the sand.
“I’ll go with you,” Drake told the inquisitor outside.
Emily still looked on the verge of chopping them all anyway. Drake gently touched her arm. That caused her to stare at him in surprise.
“I’ll be just fine,” he told her. “But I do have an order for you.”
She looked on the verge of chopping everyone anyway. “What is your order, lord?”
“If I’m not back by an hour or so after sunset, I want you to take a message to Lord Skybreak in her chambers. Tell her I was unable to meet with her tonight and where I’ve gone. You are the only person I can trust with this message.”
He trusted Lydia, too, but he’d need her to run his manor while he was chatting with the Judge. Plus getting Emily away from Darion would let the man get settled in before she pushed him into a broom closet and fucked his brains out. He needed time to prepare.
“I will go, lord,” Emily said. “Though I still think it would be better if I went with you.”
“Just make sure everyone else knows where I’ve gone, including Lord Skybreak. Also, these are capital guards. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“They could all die screaming in a wave of ferrocite-melting acid tossed by a group of evil assassins, after which you would be burned alive with a fire that scorches your flesh off until your eyeballs burst and your limbs shrivel down to husks. And then you would die, lord.”
Fuck. She had an imagination. “Well... let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
“If it does, I am chopping everyone responsible.”
“Thanks.” Drake looked to Grayson. “All right. Let’s go.”
Inquisitor Grayson stepped back, visibly relieved to finally have compliance, then looked to his soldiers. Drake willingly stepped into the hall. Behind him, Darion shouted grandly.
“Safe journey, Lord Gloomwood!”
From his maids, he heard not a thing.
This was fine. Despite his antics yesterday, the Judge was willing to listen to him. Perhaps that was why she wanted to talk. She wanted to hear more about his thoughts on this thrall who could change what people saw, or how he knew Lord Redbow had summoned those fish people. Or she wanted to berate him for blowing up a woman in the middle of the street.
Right now, Drake figured the odds were 50/50.
After all his baths Drake managed a few hours of sleep, which meant he actually slept until just before lunch. He had no cabal today, and no other business to attend to so long as the noble court continued to investigate the fish people attack. He’d had a late night and deserved a little rest. So when the knock came at his door past noon, he almost didn’t answer.
But he did anyway.
“I’m awake!” he called.
“Darion is up now!” Nicole called through the door. “Do you wish to induct him today, or do want to wait until after another lord abducts him?”
Drake sat up, yawned, and looked the door. “Out soon!”
Once he’d dressed in his manor lord best and mashed down his stubborn hair as best he could—he was still convinced there were some bits of brain or flesh hidden in there—he knocked on his own door. Nicole opened it. He stepped outside to join her.
“How’s he looking?” Drake asked quietly. “Is he horribly disfigured? Are we going to have to get him a mask or something?”
“He’s looking just fine, lord,” Nicole said coyly. “More than fine, by Emily’s standards.”
Drake eyed her. “What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
He obviously wasn’t going to get any more than that out of her, and he wasn’t in the mood to try. “Fine. Where is he now?”
“Last I saw, he was standing in the common room.”
The sound of laughter, and lots of it, came from that direction. It was all female laughter, too. Was Emily trying to balance plates on her head again?
Drake hoped not. Last time she’d tried that, they’d lost half the cabinet. As he walked that direction, he glanced back at Nicole. “Are you coming?”
“It’s my turn to guard the door!” she called. “Plus, I just don’t want to.”
He looked ahead. “Just be careful out there.”
“When am I not?” she asked irritably.
The common room was about twice the size of his master bedroom, with two narrow doors leading out onto the balcony. It included chairs scattered all around its edges as well as several tables in the center and a number of long, comfortable benches. Visitors could drink, eat, play games, and so on.
He entered it to find a scene he didn’t expect. Darion—and it must be Darion, since he was a tall, dark-haired, and unusually handsome young man Drake didn’t know, dressed in fine clothes—stood between several tables surrounded by four of Drake’s current staff, including Tamara. All women. All were also laughing in delight.
The only woman not standing in the pack around Darion was Lydia. She glanced at him as he entered, and the smile that immediately lightened her face felt good. She looked away before he could smile back, so he’d take that as relief he wasn’t covered in blood and brains.
Emily was there as well, standing much closer to Darion than the man was likely comfortable with. She was grinning the way she grinned when she knew she’d made someone uncomfortable, except Darion didn’t look uncomfortable at all. Also, Emily was visibly more flushed than normal. Which was weird.
In fact, every woman currently in Darion’s confident, smiling orbit displayed some variation of a blush, doe eyes, or a besotted grin as they clustered around him... save Lydia. And as the man glanced his way and stood at attention, Drake understood why.
There was no trace of damage to his face, and he had a fine face. Darion offered a thousand-watt smile that would have been right at home on a Hollywood boardwalk. Yet it wasn’t a smile that immediately made Drake dislike him, or a smile like some snooty noble who thought he was too good for everyone else.
Rather, it was a warm, confident, and genuine smile. Drake couldn’t explain why, but Darion struck him as a genuinely nice guy rather than a smug asshole. Given how attractive Lark was, it was no surprise her brother could turn heads as well. Darion was, Drake could confidently say without feeling weird about it, a good-looking man.
As he approached the group, Drake then began to wonder if adding Darion to his manor was going to provide his manor staff with more benefits than he’d planned. The ratio of women to men in his manor remained two-to-one. After he added Darion, the man might find himself busy with a lot more than simply stitching people’s flesh back together.
Drake just hoped he didn’t end up with another Lord Blackmane, though Darion, at least, wouldn’t be in charge of other thralls. There was no messy power differential to contend with here. So long as everyone was a consenting adult, Drake wasn’t going to get involved.
“There he is now!” Emily said excitedly. “Darion, this is our lord.”
Darion ignored the grinning red-haired battle maid who was currently watching him like she wanted to jump his bones. He bowed smoothly at the waist, which gave Emily a great opportunity to stare at his backside. Which she took, shamelessly.
Drake hoped jealousy wouldn’t become a problem with any of the staff. “Rise,” he said as he approached. “My thralls don’t bow to me.”
“Forgive me, Lord Gloomwood,” Darion said smoothly. “I misunderstood Emily.”
“No you didn’t,” Emily said. “I just wanted to see you bend over.”
Was this sexual harassment? Did they even have a concept of sexual harassment in this world? Either way, Darion didn’t seem to mind all the female attention, so if Emily become a problem for him, he’d talk to her. Regardless, Drake decided to give the man some peace.
He looked at his people. “I imagine it’s about time to prepare lunch?”
Tamara inclined her head and then turned on the others. “Let’s get busy, everyone.” She shooed the other maids away, all of whom immediately complied... though one or two offered longing glances at the new thrall as they scurried away.
Lydia stayed. As for Emily, she moved far enough away to give Darion space, but still remained close enough that a few steps would bring her back. She also seemed absolutely unabashed about hungrily staring at him, even if he wasn’t looking her direction.
“I don’t know how I can ever repay you, lord,” Darion said softly. “You saved my life last night and, more importantly, you protected my sister. Even swearing my lifelong loyalty seems like a poor recompense for all you’ve done.”
“It’s fine.” Drake shrugged. “Your rarity will serve me well.”
“As will I, lord. After last night, I will die for you if I have to.”
“Great.” This man couldn’t lie. “Do you know what’s involved in becoming my blood thrall?”
“Only that I must say the words you provide. And please, Lord Gloomwood, allow me to say just how honored I am to be allowed to serve you.”
“You came highly recommended,” Drake said. “However, I also don’t need you to blow smoke up my ass.”
Darion frowned for the first time. “Blow... smoke up your...?”
“Sorry.” Drake raised a hand. “It’s an expression from my world. You don’t need to constantly remind me how awesome I am. I’m not that type of manor lord. All I need you to do is do your job and protect me, my manor, and my people. Can you do that?”
“With my life, lord!”
“Great.” Drake nodded. “Now, you ready to do the thing?”
“You mean... to be inducted in your blood pact?”
Drake couldn’t blame the man for checking. “Yes.”
Darion offered his arm, palm up. “I am ready.”
Behind him, Drake didn’t miss as Emily pumped her fist. He had no idea how forceful Emily got during sex, but given how forceful she got about everything else, he had his suspicions. She hoped she wasn’t too rough with Darion the first time.
Drake pulled his handy letter opener—which was really more of a body opener at this point—from his pocket. “Just so you’re aware, I heal quickly. So I’m going to make a far larger incision than normal. You’ll need to slap your hand atop mine and not dawdle.”
“I understand, lord. However, I do not have anything with which to cut my...”
He trailed off as Emily eagerly shoved a small knife into his hand.
“Here you go!” she said happily.
At this moment, Darion’s life was likely now in more danger than it had been when he was a prisoner of the Asp. If he made any move toward Drake with that knife, it would be a toss up as to whether Emily soul chopped him before Lydia flutterstepped over and cut his throat. Yet Drake could regenerate, and he sensed no malice or trickery from this man.
Darion opened his palm and sliced it, then grimaced. “Oh!”
Emily was now standing practically on top of him. “First time?”
Drake eyed her. “Could you give our new thrall some space?”
“I just want to protect you, lord!” She did, however, back up. Incrementally.
Drake jammed his letter opener into his own palm, then gritted his teeth as he tore his flesh open and continued to do so. He was getting better at enduring this sort of pain, but it still hurt like hell. He offered his bloody hand. Darion clasped it tightly.
“Once I’m done inviting you, say the words ‘Beneath the eyes of the Eidolons, I swear undying loyalty to you, Lord Gloomwood. I will serve as your blood thrall.’ Got it?”
Darion nodded.
“As Lord of Gloomwood, I ask you to join my blood pact.”
Darion repeated the words he’d been given as smoothly as if he’d rehearsed them a dozen times. Drake felt a faint tug inside his body and a brief rush of warmth as the magic pact sealed, and then he released Darion’s hand. It was done.
The man drew his hand back to his chest, keeping his bloody palm up, and then touched the fingers of his other hand to it. His flesh knitted together before Drake’s eyes, which assured him the man hadn’t lied about his fleshbind rarity. Not that he could lie. Still... useful skill.
“Oh!” Emily already had a handkerchief out. “I was going to wrap that hand for you!”
“No need,” Darion assured her confidently, and looked to Drake. “Lord? I can heal your palm as well.”
Drake showed the man his palm, which had already healed on its own. “I’ve got it.”
Darion’s eyes widened. “That’s very impressive.”
“Our lord is very impressive,” Emily agreed. “And welcome to Gloomwood Manor!”
Nicole chose that moment to wander back into the room for some reason. “Make sure you let him settle in before you break him in.”
Darion looked between them, visibly unsure for the first time. “Is there some sort of initiation ritual?”
“There could be,” Emily said hungrily.
Lydia cleared her throat. “Emily, aren’t you needed in the kitchen?”
“No.”
Lydia watched her for a long moment.
“Oh!” Emily said. “Perhaps they could use help in the kitchen.” She slapped Darion on the arm hard enough the man wobbled. “I look forward to working with you!”
Darion smiled grandly. “Oh! Uh... same!”
A loud knock came on the door to the chamber.
Lydia glanced at Nicole and frowned, visibly irritated. “I told you to watch the door.”
“I am watching it,” she said. “I can see it from right here.”
“I’ll get it!” Emily shouted. She hurried to the door.
Drake sighed and turned back to Darion. “So. You’ve met the maids and probably every other woman in my manor. Before you head off to get... settled in... there’s one more decree I need to make. And I warn you, it’s a weird one.”
Darion nodded gravely. “I am yours to command, Lord Gloomwood.”
For the next few seconds, anyway. “So, as your manor lord—”
“Hey!” Emily shouted angrily. “You all stop right there!”
Drake looked to the door to find Emily standing with her feet spread in a battle stance, and more importantly, with her spectral battle axe glowing in one hand. Goddammit. Was this about him making the Asp explode in the middle of the street yesterday morning?
Drake left Darion to gawk and hurried to the door. “The fuck is this now?”
It took him but a moment to recognize that the people standing outside his door weren’t kromians, or assassins, or any of the types of people who usually tried to kill him. They looked to be capital guards. The wore the same black ferrocite all the capital guards wore.
The inquisitor he remembered from earlier today stepped from within the ranks. “Lord Gloomwood! On orders of the noble court, I order you to order your thrall to stand down!”
“You are not coming in here!” Emily said. “Try it and you are getting soul chopped!”
“Emily, let’s not kill any capital guards.” At least not until I know why they’re banging on my door with... just how many of them are out there?
As Lydia hurried to his side, Drake touched the arm in which Emily wasn’t holding a soul-chopping battle axe. “Stand down.”
“But, lord—”
“That’s an order,” Drake said. “But if they try to hurt me, you can still chop them.”
She grumbled as her axe disappeared. “You bet I will.”
Drake turned to the mass of armored soldiers gathered outside. “What’s this about? Do you have another question about the fish people?”
There were at least eight capital guards with the inquisitor. Maybe even more. It was a narrow hall. There could be a full platoon standing back there.
“No,” the inquisitor said. “We do, however, request that you come with us.”
“Fine,” Emily said petulantly. “But we’re all going with him.”
“We request that you, Lord Gloomwood, come with us. Alone. The capital guard will see to your security. You will order your thralls to remain here in your chambers.”
Drake glanced at Emily, then at Lydia. Then, he glanced back at the inquisitor. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening. Not until you tell me what this is all about.”
The inquisitor scowled. “Are you refusing an order from the noble court?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Who sent you?”
The inquisitor sighed. “I was sent here by the Judge.”
“And the men behind you? She sent them too?”
“No, but all of them serve me and are also sworn not to harm you, lord. And since I asked for them to accompany me, I sent them. And I, Inquisitor Grayson, am not here to harm you. I am simply here to escort you to a meeting with the Judge at her request.”
“As in the lady who runs the noble court?” Drake asked.
“The Judge administrates it,” Grayson corrected. “Which you, as a manor lord, must know. So please, let us dispense with your mockery. We have all had a very stressful day.”
Drake offered him an intentionally sardonic smile. “No shit, you too?”
Lydia gripped his forearm. “Do not do this, lord. You cannot go with them alone.”
He glanced at her. “Yeah? What’s the alternative?”
“I chop them,” Emily added from his other side.
Drake chuckled and glanced at her. “No, Emily. That’s not going to work this time.” He looked to the inquisitor again. “Have you come to imprison me? Is that your plan?”
“No,” Grayson said. “You have been invited to a private meeting with the Judge. We will not detain you once that meeting concludes. You will remain free to leave at any time.”
“So I can leave this meeting with the Judge whenever I like?”
“That is what I just stated.” Grayson grimaced. “This is an invitation.”
“And if I turn that invitation down?”
“The Judge would be... offended.”
He looked to Lydia again. “How bad is an offended Judge?”
She looked physically uncomfortable. “Very bad, lord. I do not like the idea of you visiting with her alone, but I also know it is very unusual for her to ask to meet with a manor lord in private. Such meetings happen rarely to avoid any appearance of impropriety.”
In other words, if she met privately with manor lords during a cabal, it could be easy to think she was taking a bribe. If she was willing to risk that sort of gossip, this must be important. “So this might be a good thing.”
“I cannot say.” Lydia sighed heavily. “I do not want to let you do this, but I also do not know that we can refuse. Not if we wish to retain the favor of the noble court.”
It would be bad to lose that. Drake saw no way around this. These did look to be capital guards, and the inquisitor’s statements were straightforward. His new and healthy paranoia suggested that going anywhere without his battle maids and sworn blood thralls to protect him was always a bad idea, but he also couldn’t hide in his chambers forever.
“Hey,” Drake said. “Remember what you said about those little crabs?”
Lydia’s lips pressed together.
“At some point, I have to come out and play.”
A private meeting with the Judge where he could air his accusations about Lord Redbow and his wink back before the attack might be a very good opportunity to further make his case that the other manor lords were at fault for... well, everything. If he could bend the Judge’s ear in private, perhaps he could even get some money shaved off his tithe for the prior lord’s habit of illegally exchanging magical artifacts. Or something.
By comparison, if he refused to accept the Judge’s invitation or, worse, ordered Emily to chop the souls of a bunch of capital guards, the noble court was going to order every other manor lord to get together, execute him, and burn his manor the ground.
Not much of a choice. Also, there were ways he could spin this to his advantage. Sometimes, he was going to have to step out of his little hole in the sand.
“I’ll go with you,” Drake told the inquisitor outside.
Emily still looked on the verge of chopping them all anyway. Drake gently touched her arm. That caused her to stare at him in surprise.
“I’ll be just fine,” he told her. “But I do have an order for you.”
She looked on the verge of chopping everyone anyway. “What is your order, lord?”
“If I’m not back by an hour or so after sunset, I want you to take a message to Lord Skybreak in her chambers. Tell her I was unable to meet with her tonight and where I’ve gone. You are the only person I can trust with this message.”
He trusted Lydia, too, but he’d need her to run his manor while he was chatting with the Judge. Plus getting Emily away from Darion would let the man get settled in before she pushed him into a broom closet and fucked his brains out. He needed time to prepare.
“I will go, lord,” Emily said. “Though I still think it would be better if I went with you.”
“Just make sure everyone else knows where I’ve gone, including Lord Skybreak. Also, these are capital guards. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“They could all die screaming in a wave of ferrocite-melting acid tossed by a group of evil assassins, after which you would be burned alive with a fire that scorches your flesh off until your eyeballs burst and your limbs shrivel down to husks. And then you would die, lord.”
Fuck. She had an imagination. “Well... let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
“If it does, I am chopping everyone responsible.”
“Thanks.” Drake looked to Grayson. “All right. Let’s go.”
Inquisitor Grayson stepped back, visibly relieved to finally have compliance, then looked to his soldiers. Drake willingly stepped into the hall. Behind him, Darion shouted grandly.
“Safe journey, Lord Gloomwood!”
From his maids, he heard not a thing.
This was fine. Despite his antics yesterday, the Judge was willing to listen to him. Perhaps that was why she wanted to talk. She wanted to hear more about his thoughts on this thrall who could change what people saw, or how he knew Lord Redbow had summoned those fish people. Or she wanted to berate him for blowing up a woman in the middle of the street.
Right now, Drake figured the odds were 50/50.
