Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (71 page)

The man’s smile returned in force.

“Thank you, my Lord. The Brewers Guild thanks you. You honor me with your time and consideration.”

Everett muttered under his breath, “Yes, I do.”

The man leaned forward.

“Pardon, my Lord?”

“Nothing,” said Everett. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, shooing the man like the pest he was. “Good evening.”

The man stood, gave a deep bow, and tuned to scurry back to his assigned seat for the evening. Everett watched the man return to his seat and meal, honestly trying to recall the petitioner’s name. He could not.

A skinny, wrinkled man with wispy white hair stepped forward, stopping on Everett’s left. Referring to the parchment he clasped, the man leaned over to whisper, “The next petitioner is Baron Brampton. He wishes to discuss a disagreement he has with Baroness Yarrow about a grove of trees that sits between their lands. Both lay claim to it and—”

Everett silenced the man with a raised hand.

“Can this not wait for some other time, Grandy?”

In a polite, yet firm tone, the steward replied, “My Lord, you have canceled formal court so often lately that we were required to have tonight’s feast in order to clear up some of the duchy’s business. You cannot postpone duty indefinitely.”

Frowning, Everett muttered, “Fine.” He eyed the long table and the guests on both sides. “How many more of them must I speak with?”

“All of tonight’s guests have something they wish to address with you.”

Everett’s eyes widened. There had to be close to a hundred and fifty people here.

“I have to talk with
all
of them?”

“Yes, my Lord,” mumbled Grandy. “And these are just those who are of suitable class with which to dine. We have close to nine hundred outstanding petitions for you to attend to.”

Duke Everett turned his head to glare at his steward.

“
Nine hundred
?!”

The shout echoed through the vast dining hall. His guests quieted for a moment before quickly resuming their conversations, pretending to ignore the duke’s outburst.

Lowering his voice, Everett asked, “Is there no other way to handle these petitions, Grandy? Cannot one administrator or another talk with them?”

Wearing a stiff smile that did not reach his eyes, Grandy muttered, “No, my Lord. I respectfully remind you—again—the
law
dictates that
you
resolve them.” He paused before saying with an edge, “As your father did, my Lord. Admirably so, might I add.”

Everett’s glowered at the old steward through narrowed eyes.

“Tread carefully, old man. I will do things as I see fit. I am
not
my father.”

The skin around Grandy’s eyes crinkled.

“No, my Lord. You are most definitely not.”

Everett pressed his lips together. Were this any other soul, Grandy would not live to see Mu’s orb crest the eastern horizon. However, without the steward, the operation of the castle—perhaps of the entire duchy—would come crashing down. Even so, that did not mean Everett had to put up with the man’s insolence.

Everett shoved his heavy chair back, sending a loud scrape of wood on stone echoing through the hall, and stood. While the collective gaze of the room on him, his was reserved for Grandy alone.

“I am not feeling well, Steward. Please apologize to my guests that I will be unable to attend the remainder of the evening.”

Without waiting—or caring—what Grandy’s response was, he walked away from the table, a spiteful grin spreading over his face as he went. He enjoyed the thought of Grandy having to deal with a roomful of angry guests.

As he reached the double doors at rear of the room, two members of his personal guard fell in behind him, dressed in black tunics and breeches trimmed with red. Once a servant opened the doors for him, Everett strode through and marched down the passageway, admiring his castle as he went. His smile spread wider. He liked that he could call it that now. The Duke’s Hall was his.

Everett’s father had passed on to see Maeana two winters ago after a nasty fall from a horse during a hunt along Lake Hawthorne’s western shores. Duke Gill Redlord had taken Everett with him on the excursion in a misguided attempt to forge a bond between father and son where one had never existed. Everett had spent most of his formative years traveling from one duchy city to the next as his father wished to familiarize him with the duchy he would someday rule. While he never made any real friends in his stops—Everett did not quite grasp the concept of friends—he did make valuable contacts and powerful allies. Some were very powerful.

He stepped through a door leading to an open-air walkway, leaving the torch-lit hall behind. The sandstone beneath his feet radiated heat, having cooked all day in the summer sun. By the time he reached his bedchambers, his feet were moist with sweat.

Before heading inside, he moved to the waist-high stone railing while the guards from the dining hall stood off to the side. Everett smiled at the cityscape laid out below him, lit by the combined illumination of the two, nearly full moons. Redstone, the capital of the Great Lakes Duchy, rested at the bottom of the elevated hill upon which the duke’s castle perched. Wooden poles with torch lamps lined the cobblestone streets crisscrossing the expansive city. Tens of thousands lived below him.

Redstone was his, as was the entirety of the Great Lakes. Yet his ambitions reached beyond these borders, ambitions that would soon be fulfilled.

With a smile and a sigh, he turned and sauntered toward the entrance to his bedchambers. The double doors were open wide—as most in the castle were—to allow air to flow freely. Summer lasted a long time here in Redstone, and the heat was stifling, even at night. As he crossed the threshold, he recalled the servant girl from the dining hall. Stopping, he turned back to the two guards who had accompanied him.

“You two, return to the hall and fetch for me the blonde girl with the red ribbon in her hair. She was serving wine. Tell her I wish to see her.”

The two guards exchanged an uneasy glance before the one on the left said, “My Lord, the captain’s orders are to keep your lordship guarded for the remainder of the evening.”

Everett smiled at the soldier.

“How rude of me. I would not want to put you in a situation where you are disobeying an order from your captain.”

The man visibly relaxed, saying, “Thank you, my Lord.”

Everett’s grin fell away. His eyes and voice turned cold as he snapped, “Then again, I am the duke. So when I tell you do something, you blasted do it!” He pointed down the walkway and shouted, “Go!”

Both men bowed and quickly retreated, mumbling their apologies.

Everett watched them scamper down the passageway before turning to enter his spacious bedchamber. Soft, bluish-white moonlight streamed through the doors and windows, illuminating half of the room. A massive, canopied bed covered with red satin sheets and a dozen silken pillows rested in the center of the chamber. Richly made furniture—dressers, desks, and chairs—lined the walls.

He immediately slipped off his sandals and let his feet rest on the polished black marble floor with a contented sigh, savoring the relief the cooler surface offered. Glancing around the room, he frowned. Every torch in his room was unlit. His chamber servants were not here waiting for him, as they should be. His frown turned into a full scowl.

“This is unacceptable.”

A woman’s voice wafted from a darkened corner of the room.

“I sent them away, Everett, believing that their services were required elsewhere.”

Everett whirled about, a moment away from calling for the guards, when he recognized to whom it belonged.

“Gods, Raela! You startled me.”

He peered into the unlit part of the room, trying to spot her. However, the moonlight streaming through the open windows cast sharp shadows in his bedchambers, providing a number of places in which she could hide.

“Did I?” replied Raela with a false innocence. “That was not my intention, my Lord.” With a light rustling of cloth, she stepped forth from a darkened corner and into a pool of moonlight. Her long arms swayed gracefully as she moved.

Raela was stunningly beautiful. Diminutive, with light, pale skin, she looked almost fragile, but Everett knew better. While she could pass as a woman in most instances, she was erijul, her features carrying but a hint of ijul, by no means an unpleasant thing. Everett thought it gave her an exotic, sensual look. Light brown hair, straight and glistening in the moonlight, fell unbound to her shoulders, swishing as she stepped barefoot across the marble floor toward him. Her piercing, ice blue eyes never left his face as she crept closer. Not for the first time, he was reminded of a cat stalking its prey.

She wore a shoulder-less gown of white gauze that grazed the floor as she walked. The flimsy material reflected some of the light from the moons, but was translucent enough that Everett could see her pleasing shape beneath the dress. His breath caught.

With a sly, knowing smile, she murmured, “It is good to see you as well, Everett.”

She drifted past him, as close as she could without touching him, and continued to the canopied bed. An intoxicating perfume of soft rose petals and honeybells washed over him, filling his nostrils and tickling his mind. She moved around to the far side of his bed and slowly lay down on her stomach. The light gauze gown she wore draped open in front of her, allowing Everett an even better view of what already was barely covered.

He quickly looked away from his bed and stared at the floor. Trying to clear his mind, he asked, “How is it that you got past all of my guards?”

With a touch of reproach mixing with playfulness, she said, “Truly, Everett?”

Pressing his lips together, he muttered, “Never mind.” Simple guards were no match for her talents. Compelling his voice to remain steady, he asked, “What do you want, then?” Unable to keep his eyes from her, his gaze returned to the bed. “Are plans shifting?”

Raela gave him a pouty smile. “No, sweet, dear Everett.” She played with her hair, twisting it around her fingers before letting it fall. “Our plans remain the same.” She rolled over on her back and stretched, writhing about on his bed, tightening and relaxing her muscles. Letting her head fall back over the edge of the bed she stared at him upside down, her silky brown hair hanging. “Would you like to lie here next to me? I’m sure you had a long day of doing whatever it is you do.”

Shutting his eyes, he shook his head, trying to clear away both the image of Raela and the scent of her intoxicating perfume. Before he reopened them, he turned around to face the double doors and the night outside. He loathed not being in control, and Raela stripped that from him.

Taking care to control his breathing, he whispered, “Why are you here, then?”

“Straight to the kernel, then?” asked Raela. She gave a short, pouting sigh. “You are so predictable.”

He heard a rustling behind him followed by padded footsteps approaching. Raela appeared at his side and stood next to him. The scent of flowers was overpowering.

“Tandyr is curious if you have heard from Jhaell recently. He has proven difficult to reach as of late. I inquired about him at his little school, but it seems he has not been there for two weeks.”

Pushing aside the erijul’s allure, Everett turned to face her.

“Difficult to reach is an understatement.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

Everett strode through the dark room to a colossal, ornate oaken desk. Sitting in the desk’s chair, he reached to a bottom drawer, opened it, and pulled out the parchment Jhaell had given him when Raela had first put the pair in contact. He stood and walked back to where Raela waited.

“I sent this message to him almost three weeks ago. Only this time, the writing never disappeared, which—according to how he said this thing works—means he never cleared it after he read it.” He was about to hand the parchment to Raela when he stopped. Studying her, he asked, “Have there been any recent developments you would like to share with me? Anything regarding the prophecy?”

Raela’s thin eyebrows drew together, creating a tiny furrow in her otherwise smooth brow.

“What do you mean?”

Everett pressed his lips together. So Raela did not know. He had feared this was the case. Sighing, he handed the parchment to her. She was not going to like this.

Raela accepted the letter and lifted it to the moonlight to read. Her expression quickly shifted from once of concerned curiosity to that of shocked fury. The moment she was done, she tossed the message back to him and spat with a rank bitterness, “
Beelvra
!”

Everett was not expecting the magical parchment. It glanced off his hands and floated to the floor.

Raela whirled around in place, simmering with rage. “That blasted fool!” All alluring softness was gone from her, replaced with an intense, harsh anger. “He was supposed to
tell
us if he found them! Not try to eliminate them himself!”

Nodding along, Everett said, “After I did not hear back from him, I sent a note to Alpert via messenger. I eventually received a missive back saying that two men had appeared in the Constables office to report the destruction of Yellow Mud.” He stared intently at the erijul. “
Two
, Raela. Not just the one that the merchant I mentioned in my letter met on the road.” He paused before adding quietly, “And there’s more.”

The erijul’s eyes widened as she hissed, “What?”

The duke had not seen Raela this angry in some time. She scared him a bit.

“Alpert reported an unusual magical disturbance south of Smithshill the same day these visitors showed up at the Constables. A bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Tell me that Alpert did something about it.”

“He did,” replied Everett. “He sent some Sentinels to find the outlaws. Along with two Trackers and….” He stopped, not wanting to tell her the worst part.

Recognizing his reticence, Raela demanded, “What is it, Everett?”

Everett sighed and muttered, “He put Jhaell in charge of the expedition.”