Blood of the Underworld (3 page)

Victor turned to the King, who chewed on his lip. This lord was fiery, devoted, and quick-witted. He truly seemed unafraid of making enemies, for few would have dared speak to the Watcher in such a manner. Even the Watcher looked surprised.

“Do not be afraid,” Victor said, putting his back to the Watcher. “I have come as Veldaren’s savior, and am prepared for the burden. Let it all be cast on me. Let it be my name the thieves hear. Let them know I am the one enforcing your laws. There is nothing for you to lose. Noble, beggar, merchant, thief...all will come to justice. The coin I ask for in return is a pittance compared to what you gain. Give me your blessing.”

Edwin could tell Gerand wanted nothing to do with the offer, but for once, Edwin saw a ray of light in his miserable city. For years he’d lived in fear that he’d meet the same fate as his parents, killed off because one of the guilds decided him too meddlesome. Could this Lord Victor do it? Could he do what even the Watcher could not?

“If you truly desire to uphold the law, then so be it,” he said. “You and your men may act in the name of Victor Kane, ask questions in your name, and deliver justice in a manner befitting the law. But the moment I hear of your own men breaking my laws, starting fires, and acting like the lowborn scum they no doubt are, I will banish you from my city, never to return. As for your reward...”

He stared into Victor’s eyes, and Victor stared back.

“Every guild broken. Every guildmaster dead or gone. When I can walk down my streets without fear of an arrow, and eat my food without checking for sprinkles of glass, you will have your coin, as well as any portion of land within this city you desire for your home.”

Victor’s smile grew.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing. “You’ll never regret it. I swear this upon the honor of my house.”

With a wave of his hand, Edwin dismissed the lord, who left in a hurry. A bounce was in his step. Unbelievable. Would he still be so cheerful when the collected might of every thief guild bore down upon him? How long until there were none left alive to taste his drink and sample his food? And when the chaos grew, and the real bloodshed began, was there anyone with enough skill to protect him?

He looked to the window, but the Watcher was already gone.

2

H
er servant women fussed over her, fitting clothes, applying rouge, and brushing hair, until Alyssa Gemcroft finally sent them away, unable to take any more. They filed out, leaving her alone in her extravagant bedroom. Well, not quite alone...

“Come down, Zusa,” she said. “Tell me what is wrong.”

From a far corner of the room, hidden in a dark space unlit by light from the windows, a woman fell to the ground. Despite the many years it had been since leaving Karak’s cult of Faceless Women, Zusa still wore the tight wrappings across her body, strips of cloth colored various shades of black and purple. Her face, at least, she kept exposed: dark skin, dark hair cut short at the neck, and beautiful green eyes. A long grey cloak hung from her shoulders, the thin material curling about her body with the slightest tugs of Zusa’s fingers.

“There is nothing wrong,” Zusa said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall.

“I’m used to you keeping an eye on me, but you only hide on the ceiling when you’re nervous.” She smiled at her friend. “You know I trust your instincts, so tell me.”

Zusa gestured to the dress.

“You doll yourself up worse than a whore. Powder everywhere, rouge, perfume on your neck...and I must say, I pity your breasts.”

Alyssa looked down at herself. Indeed, she’d let her servants help prepare her for her meeting, but had she let them get carried away? Her dress was a sultry red, tightly fitted, with a ring of rubies sewn along the neck. A gold chain held a large emerald tucked into the curve of her breasts, which, true to Zusa’s words, her corset had rammed almost unnaturally high.

“This is what is expected of me,” Alyssa said, sighing. She wanted to sit down, but feared to ruffle her dress, or even worse, strain the ties of the corset. The realization made her blush, and she could tell Zusa knew her defense a flimsy one.

“Since when did Lady Gemcroft do the expected?” Zusa asked, the last of her nerves fading away with a smile. “But you are beautiful, even if overdone. I only wonder why. Lord Stephen is but a child, young even compared to you. Your smile alone should impress him.”

Alyssa paced, keeping her movements slow and controlled lest she muss her appearance.

“It’s been a year since his appointment, and I am yet to meet him. I fear he’ll think I have snubbed him, or deemed him unworthy of his position. I only wish to make a good impression.”

Zusa sat down on the bed, shifting the daggers tied to her waist so they did not poke into the soft mattress.

“He will think it anyway,” she said. “Though I fear his impression will be that you are making advances upon him.”

Alyssa opened her mouth, closed it, and then looked to her dress. She sighed.

“Help me, will you?” she asked.

Ten minutes later she was in a far more comfortable dress, and they’d wiped clean her face. Alyssa left her hair the same, having always enjoyed the sight of thin braids interlocked and weaving throughout her long red locks. Able to breathe and move far more freely, she hugged Zusa, then attached a simple lace of silver about her neck.

“We have kept Stephen waiting long enough,” she said. “Let’s go.”

A litter waited outside her mansion, and she and Zusa climbed inside. As they traveled through the streets of Veldaren, Alyssa felt butterflies in her stomach and did her best to belittle them. It was stupid to be nervous. Of the three families of the Trifect, she’d been in power the longest, and had clearly solidified her position as ruler of the Gemcroft fortune. Stephen Connington was but a bastard of his father, Leon. Still, he was the only one with a clear biological relation. It’d taken several years before he’d been granted control of the estate from the caretakers. In the end, they’d had no choice. Leon had killed most of his family members and steadfastly refused to have named heirs, lest they drown him in his bath.

She winced at the memory of Leon. He’d been unpleasant at times, if not repulsive. The fat had rolled off of him, yet his tiny eyes had always been of a young, starving man eager to take, and take, regardless the vice. She’d heard stories of what his gentle touchers—his private group of elite torturers—could do to a man to make him break. A shudder ran through her. She prayed that Stephen had inherited very little of his father beyond his name.

As for the last family of the Trifect, the Keenans, they’d yet to recover from the fiasco in Angelport two years prior, when both Madelyn and Laurie had been murdered, along with their temporary successor, Torgar. Their grandchild, Tori, was the biological heir, but it would be many years before she could take over rule. Last report Alyssa had heard from Angelport was that various relatives were still bickering over who would be Tori’s godfather, as the Keenan wealth crumbled around them.

No, Alyssa was the pillar of strength of the Trifect, the one holding it all together. She had to be strong, confident. Zusa had been right. Terrible as it was, the last thing she wanted to do was flaunt her feminine qualities when needing Stephen to take her seriously.

“I should have brought Nathaniel with me,” Alyssa said as the litter bounced across the rough street.

“Your son is better served with an honorable man like Lord Gandrem than dealing with worms like the Conningtons,” Zusa said.

Alyssa frowned and glanced out the curtained window to the passing homes.

“Yes,” she said. “But it won’t be too long before he must put away foolish fantasies of knights and armies. I won’t have all I’ve built squander and break like it has for the Keenans. In time, he must learn to deal with the worms as well as the dragons.”

Not long after, they arrived at the closely guarded Connington mansion. Thick, high walls protected it from intruders, and armed soldiers with sashes about their waists to show their loyalty to the family patrolled the area. At the gate, two men bowed and opened it wide so they could enter. One of them sneered at Zusa’s appearance, but the woman twirled, blew him a kiss, and then followed after Alyssa.

“Must I tell you to behave?” Alyssa whispered as they crossed the stone path toward the mansion entrance.

“I could have struck his head, if you would prefer.”

Alyssa glanced back, saw the same guard watching them with a sneer on his face.

“Perhaps on the way out,” she said, and they both quietly laughed.

Another guard stopped them at the door, and he glared at the daggers Zusa carried.

“No weapons,” he told them.

“Zusa is my bodyguard, and will use them only to protect me,” Alyssa said.

“There is no need. You are safe within these walls.”

“Is that so?” Alyssa asked. “How long have you served the Conningtons, good sir?”

“Nine years,” said the guard.

“That means you were here. Excellent. Please, tell me, where were you when your former master died?”

The guard swallowed hard. Leon had died in the mansion barracks, believed by most to have been killed by the Watcher.

“Very well,” said the guard. “But do not draw them unless forced.”

The doors opened, and they stepped inside. Alyssa had been there before, after its reconstruction from the fire during the Bloody Kensgold. The floors were still soft, deep red rugs she knew had to be a nightmare to keep clean. The ceiling was high above her, the wood columns decorated with various animals. But where there should have been vases on tables were only bare surfaces. Where there should have been paintings and murals, bare walls.

“Much missing extravagance,” Zusa said, keeping her voice soft.

“Perhaps their coffers are worse than we thought,” Alyssa said.

Zusa didn’t look convinced. She gestured to where many portraits of Leon were clearly missing.

“Or the son looked upon the father, and did not like what he saw.”

At the end of the hall they waited until a servant stepped in, announced their presence, and then flung open the door. A practiced smile on her face, Alyssa went in to greet the new heir to the Connington fortune.

She knew he’d be young, only eighteen if their information on him was true, but she was still surprised by his small size, his soft face, and even softer hands, as he bent on one knee, bowed low, and kissed her offered fingers. Alyssa felt her smile grow more natural. He may not have spent his early life in affluence, but he’d learned quickly over the past year.

“I’m thrilled to at last make your acquaintance,” Stephen said, his voice tinged with a charming honesty. “I must admit, ever since my appointment, you were the one I was most nervous to meet.”

“May I ask why?”

“Your beauty, of course,” he said, and Alyssa caught his nervous glances about the room, his struggle to meet her eye. “That, and your unpredictability. Would you care for something to drink?”

They were in a cozy study, one wall covered with books, another with maps of Dezrel. Between the chairs was a small table, currently empty. When Alyssa agreed, Stephen noticeably calmed, calling out orders for servants and offering seats to his guests. Alyssa sat opposite him at the table, while Zusa refused, instead lurking behind Alyssa’s chair with her arms draped protectively over her neck. The embrace was a bit over-familiar for public, but Alyssa let it be. It amused her to see how Stephen’s eyes kept glancing their way.

As various cakes and fruits were placed before them, Stephen sat down and cleared his throat.

“I must confess, milady, that I asked you here with reason, one that you will...well, one that you’ll find surprising.”

“I’ve had advisors attempt to take my life, lovers turn to madmen, and my son brought to me from the dead.” Alyssa smiled at him. “I daresay you have a difficult task if you think you can surprise me.”

Stephen cleared his throat, but she saw a gleam in his eye piercing through his nervousness. He looked...pleased. She tried not to show it as she nibbled on a sweetcake, but a bit of worry crept up her belly. What if he did have something worthy of surprise?

“Alyssa...milady...what do you remember of your mother?”

The cake caught in her throat, and it took all of her control to keep her from launching into an unseemly coughing fit. Her mother? Why did he ask of her mother?

“She died when I was young,” she said once she had swallowed. “The servants would not tell me the reason, and my father would only say that she left. I presume you think you know the truth of the matter?”

Stephen stood, as if unable to sit any longer.

“That I would, if you’d...”

She waved a hand dismissively, interrupting him.

“I am no fool, Stephen, and rumors are no stranger to me. I know what happened, if that is all you’d tell me. My mother was unfaithful to my father, and he...” She shook her head. “I love my father, but he was right to hide it from me. I’m not sure I’d have forgiven him, certainly not back then. She was given to Leon’s...your father’s gentle touchers. I can only pray they were merciful.”