Barren Vows (Fates of the Bound Book 3)

by Wren Weston

  Lila shook her head, her scarf too tight around her neck.

  “I had to shoot her. A dart would have given her more time to fire before the sedative hit. I had to—”

  “Yes. You had to.”

  Sutton licked her lips. Both women eyed the doctor on the ground, bleeding from the hole in her head and another through her neck. Sutton’s aim had been good, so good that Rubio had likely been dead before she fell.

  Lila could not look away. She wasn’t a cloud this time as she stared at death, but an oozing pile of lava.

  “How’d you know?” she asked, digging out the dart that still clung to her coat like an irritating scab. Sutton offered her a baggie, then sealed away what might have been.

  “We found the wig and the remote for the plugs in the condo. Rubio also had the same approximate height and weight of the assassin. Oracle knows her wife’s not that dainty. Captain McKinley looked through her net logs and found some interesting things in her search history, including research on motorcycle repair. Her last searches were on poisons.”

  Lila nodded, noticing that even the members of the militia could not look away from the body. They’d all seen plenty in their work, but none had been broken by a bullet.

  “How’d you know Rubio was here?”

  “I didn’t. I just assumed she’d be coming for you again, so we contacted the great house. Ms. O’Malley saw you leave about five minutes ago. Captain McKinley was reviewing the camera footage, but I guessed where you’d run off to. You like to drive off on your own too much, just like this morning. We still need to talk about that, by the way.”

  “Later,” Lila vowed.

  “I guess she thought we wouldn’t find her unless we turned on thermal imaging.”

  “I hope you were about to turn on thermal—”

  “You’re damn right we were.”

  “I owe you my life. All of you,” Lila added, more loudly so that the militia heard her praise. The blackcoats bobbled their heads and turned back to mill around Rubio’s corpse.

  Sergeant Tripp had already crouched down before the body, checking the doctor’s pulse. His pipe peeked from his front pocket.

  “Sergeant Tripp, contact Captain McKinley at the security office and process the scene,” Sutton ordered. “It’s yours until she gets here.”

  Sutton patted Lila’s back, leading her away from the body.

  “If Tripp handles this well, I’m going to make him a lieutenant,” Sutton said, their boots crunching on the gravel trail.

  “He’s due for it. Captain McKinley deserves praise for her part as well.”

  “She doesn’t need the encouragement.”

  Lila shrugged, happy to see the lights of the great house. “Write up your statement and take tomorrow off.”

  “Everyone else gets praise, and I get punishment?”

  “It’s protocol. You just killed someone, Lucia. It wasn’t a dart this time. That leaves a mark. It spins your head. You should be at home with your husband right now. I know you love him, regardless of how much you complain about him, so go to him. Write up your statement and go home.”

  “I know damn well what I did. That wasn’t the first person I killed. Far from it.”

  “You’re not on the front lines anymore. Go home.”

  “Is that an order?”

  “Yes.”

  The chief snorted. “That’s too bad that you already gave up your job, then.”

  “It’s not yours yet,” Lila pointed out, suddenly feeling very childish. She tugged on the ends of her jacket. “Look, if you want to ignore me and go in tomorrow, then fine, I can’t stop you. I’m not about to get my mother involved, either. But at least for tonight, go home.”

  Sutton puffed out her chest. “Fine. After I get you back to the great house with a kettle of tea. Your voice sounds like shit.”

  This time, Lila did not contradict her.

  Chapter 32

  Lila spun in her bedroom before the mirror, studying her new gray leather coat. It hit her ankles, and didn’t look too far off from her blackcoat. She’d bought it earlier that morning at one of the shops across from the estate, ignoring the salesclerk’s futile attempts to steer her into a “more appropriate color” befitting her family and station. Once purchased, she refused to allow the plump tailor to stitch the Randolph coat of arms on its breast. Instead, she carried it up to the great house in a red shopping bag with a half-dozen new scarves folded and wrapped in crimson tissue paper.

  The coat might not have been tailored specifically for her, but it would do.

  Besides, the familiar weight soothed her.

  She wrapped a new scarf around her neck, some of her makeup already rubbing away. The bruises were brighter today, though her voice was less hoarse. It would take a while for the evidence of La Roux’s attack to vanish, but at least it was hidden away.

  A knock sounded upon the door.

  “Ms. Gardner parked your car out front, just as you asked,” Isabel said with a small bow.

  “Thank you, Isabel.”

  “Are you going somewhere?” She fixed Lila with a curious, almost frightened look.

  Lila felt sorry for her. Alex had disappeared from the servants’ quarters overnight, and Ms. O’Malley had only told the staff that she had been transferred. None of them knew where she had been taken. Even Lila only had a vague suspicion about where she had ended up. One thing was for certain, though: Alex would fantasize about fetching trays for Jewel after her first day.

  Unfortunately, Isabel had been left to deal with Jewel all alone, with only some small bit of relief from Ms. O’Malley. Jewel had ceased her crying, at least until she’d eaten breakfast with her mother. Something had started her up again, and Lila couldn’t have cared less what it might have been.

  She might have found out if she’d answered the summons to breakfast or the note that followed, but Lila had refused to open either of them. They lay on the floor next to her luggage. She didn’t have much, for most of the clothes she liked belonged to a militia chief, and she wasn’t that person anymore. She’d put the rest into a suitcase and her old canvas bag, along with her gadgets, her hard drives from her office and home computers, the paperwork for her mark, and a few pictures. She left behind the closet full of crimson coats and dresses and matching heels. She wouldn’t have need of such colors for a while.

  Luckily, she had plenty of money to buy new clothes, for she’d spread her credits into a dozen accounts throughout the commonwealth and Burgundy. She’d be far from broke when she moved into Hotel Emeraude, a temporary stop until she could decide on a new place to live, perhaps in a new city.

  She didn’t know where she’d go, but she knew where she didn’t want to be.

  She also knew a place she’d stop along the way. She owed someone a long conversation, regardless of how much they’d yell at one another. Her life was her own now, and she was tired of living with unfulfilled regrets.

  “Yes, I’m going away for a little while. You’ll take care of Pax and see that he takes care of himself?”

  Isabel bowed again. “Of course, madam. He’s my favorite,” she answered with a rare, sly grin.

  Lila grabbed her satchel and slipped it over her head. Both women snatched up a bag and trundled down the hall.

  Pax did not come to see her off, still sulking after she’d said her goodbye that morning.

  Lila would miss him, and he would miss her. But maybe, just maybe, her absence would nudge him back to school after the winter break.

  After the suitcases were loaded into the Cruz sedan, Lila sped to Hotel Emeraude, located across from Bullstow.

  Lila stared at the hotel when she reached it. No matter how many times she had seen Hotel Emeraude, her amusement with the place never ceased. It was as if a teenage architect had crossed the Parthenon with a doll’s mansion. It wasn’t j
ust grand, it was grand taken one toe over the line. If one didn’t look closely, one might miss the touches of whimsy, the windows shaped like gemstones, the trees trimmed in perfect circles, the little gargoyles peeking over the edge of the roof.

  She parked in a back lot of the hotel, hiding the sedan among several large trucks, not that it needed much cover. She’d taken the most anonymous vehicle in her family’s garage for a reason.

  She didn’t want to be found.

  Lila jogged to the front of the hotel. The door opened as soon as she came near, and the owner of Hotel Emeraude stepped forward to greet her, awash in a cloud of vanilla fabric that contrasted with her ebony skin. The elegant woman extended her hand, her natural hair spiraling cheerfully around her face, like a goddess of the vine. “Prime Minister Lemaire waits for you in the café. We have a private booth for you there, Madame Randolph,” she said in a thick French accent. The doorman reached for the satchel on Lila’s shoulder. “My people will carry your bag to your room if you wish.”

  “That’s okay,” Lila said, eyeing the doorman, not trusting anyone around her laptop and drives. She hitched her satchel farther on her shoulder. “I will carry them all myself later, Madame Sauveterre.”

  “As you wish. I notice your family’s colors. They are missing from your coat?” Madame Sauveterre inquired, tilting her head toward Lila’s chest.

  “I wear what I wear.”

  Madame Sauveterre’s mouth crooked in a puzzled line as they stepped into the hotel lobby, which was far more exquisite than the exterior. The marble floors, a blend of white and gray geometric prints, were almost too immaculate to step on. Chiseled black pillars had been scattered throughout the space, reaching all way up into the ceiling, which spanned several floors. A crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. Bursts of silver flashed everywhere, from doorknobs to railings, to rods peeking out of the drapes, to the half-hidden lights nestled throughout the structure. Several ivory sculptures of fantastical beasts dotted the rooms, interspersed among the green sofas and pillows. One of Jewel’s paintings had been hung behind the front counter, a bucking unicorn bought by Madame Sauveterre from her sister’s second show.

  Madame Sauveterre ushered Lila into the café and toward a row of doors at the back. She paused at the door to number three and handed over a key. “You are checked into Hotel Emeraude, Madame Randolph. I will take you to your room later if you wish?”

  Lila nodded. “Thank you. As always, your hotel is one of the finest in all of Saxony.”

  “And the most discreet.”

  Madame Sauveterre bowed and drifted away, heels clicking on the tile.

  Lila opened the door to the private booth, which could have fit a family of six with room to spare. A rug of the deepest green covered the space under a slick ebony table with two large benches on either side. At the table’s center sat a trough of lilies.

  Prime Minister Lemaire turned away from the window, which had been filled with one-way glass, composing an entire wall of the booth. “Lila, girl,” he said, darting forward to lift her off the ground in a hug. Lila’s coat caught the air as she twirled.

  He let her slide to the ground eventually, but he did not let go.

  “I always find them in the end,” she said, not sure what else to say.

  Lemaire put her down immediately and dragged her to the table. “For oracle’s sake, you need tea. You voice sounds worse than Chief Shaw led me to believe.”

  “I’ve had buckets and bucket of tea.”

  “Well then, more won’t hurt.”

  “You don’t have to pee it out later.”

  He tugged down her scarf, squinting at her neck. “There’s makeup on your scarf, and enough light in here for me to recognize bruises when—” He licked his thumb and rubbed it across her neck.

  “Ew…” Lila batted his hand away. “I told you. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re just in one piece. At least when you’re prime I won’t have any sleepless nights. I had them all the time when…”

  He trailed off as Lila darted around him, scanning the room with her palm. As it was not large and did not contain many furnishings, it did not take Lila all that long to finish. Finding nothing, she sank onto the bench across from her father and tossed her jammer near the lilies. The jammer was one of many gadgets she had taken with her when she left the Randolph estate.

  “Being prime is dangerous too.”

  “There are different degrees of danger. And I already checked for bugs. I’ve made good use of your programs. You always have to check, though.”

  “I can’t assume your palm hasn’t been compromised.”

  “Well, it’s good that I check as well. I can’t assume yours hasn’t been compromised either.”

  A waitress knocked on the door and entered, bearing a tray of sweet rolls and fruit. She poured hot chocolate from a kettle and turned to leave. “Green tea, please,” Lemaire said as the woman skittered away.

  “So how’s being prime treating you, Lila girl?” he asked, and bit into a roll. His eyes flicked to her gray coat.

  Unable to resist the hot chocolate, Lila sipped at her mug. “I imagine the same as the life of a councilman.”

  “You’ve cleaned up this mess as well as can be expected. I suppose I shouldn’t complain.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.”

  The waitress returned bearing a kettle of tea and placed it on the table. Then she scooted away, closing the door behind her.

  The pair sat together, a bit awkwardly, staring out into the morning. Crowds walked by the hotel, many pointing at the beautiful windows or the gargoyles, taking pictures.

  That could be a problem. It was only a matter of time before someone spied her and revealed her location to her mother.

  If the chairwoman didn’t know already where Lila had gone.

  She’d have to move soon.

  “How have you been handling the rest of your life, Lila?” her father asked, sensing her thoughts. “Madame Sauveterre walked you inside. That means you’ve checked in. Why would you stay here rather than your own home?”

  “Because I don’t live there anymore. Don’t get involved.”

  “Why? Because it’s women’s business? Don’t take that attitude with me. I taught you better than that.”

  “No, because you can’t unhear the truth.”

  “Too late, your mother’s already involved me,” he said, popping a grape into his mouth. “Woke me up in a huff because you wouldn’t come down to breakfast. I’m to do my fatherly duty and convince you to resume yours.”

  “You’ll accept her command?”

  “If I agree with it. Why did you leave, Lila?”

  She tore off a little piece of a sweet roll and considered the question. Why had she left? It wasn’t as though her mother’s morals had been a new discovery. It wasn’t as if she’d ever believed Jewel to be anything more than what she’d proven herself to be.

  “I left because I need time to figure things out.”

  “You’re twenty-eight years old. At your age, your mother—”

  “Was already someone I could never respect.”

  “So don’t be her.”

  Lila sipped at her hot chocolate. “At what point is forgiveness agreement?”

  “I suspect your mother did not tell me the entire story.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Perhaps you’d like to share your side of things?”

  “It’s confidential even if it’s—”

  “It’s your mother and you. It’s always confidential.”

  “And Jewel. And Senator Dubois. And Ms. Wilson.”

  He quirked his eyebrows at the mention of Alex, especially when Lila referred to her so formally. “Somehow I feel like I’m going to regret getting in the middle of four women.”

  “I warned you. Turn back n
ow.”

  Lila knew he wouldn’t. Haltingly, she told him about Senator Dubois, about how her investigation into his condition had led her to Rubio and how it had eventually led to Jewel, to Alex, and to her mother. She studied every little twitch of his mouth, every line in his eyes, checking for outrage or apathy.

  She hated her suspended anger, this need for his confirmation of her own feelings.

  “I can’t believe Jewel would do something so cruel. To take a man’s chance at children—a senator, no less.” He frowned and let out a heavy sigh. “Actually, I can believe it. I just don’t want to. Has Senator Dubois contacted you?”

  “No. I don’t believe he’ll want me to do anything. He’s acting like those spouses, convinced the bruises don’t matter because their lover apologized.”

  “You want to make his decision for him?”

  “Are you implying that I’m like Jewel?”

  “No, don’t be so defensive. What happened to Senator Dubois is repugnant, but your mother was right. This is the real world. Life isn’t always just, and even when it is, it isn’t just equally.”

  “Jewel goes free, and Mother will get away with her part too. She had full knowledge of what would happen, and she didn’t lift a finger to stop it.”

  “Can you prove it?”

  Lila shook her head. “Ms. Wilson is probably in a mine somewhere, and Rubio is dead. How typical that the highborn go free when the lower classes—”

  “Dr. Rubio wasn’t punished for helping Jewel. She was killed because she tried to murder you. And as for Ms. Wilson, she proved herself unworthy of working in the great house. It is a position that requires trust, and she lost yours. She should have been sent away for violence against you last month, anyway. I’m glad she’s gone. Is this why you’ve turned your back on the family?”

  “I can’t live among them anymore, knowing what they are capable of. Can you blame me?”

  “Your mother was right, you know. You do have a blind spot. You always have. She thought it only applied to Ms. Wilson, but it didn’t. You’ve always been blind to her and Jewel as well. You didn’t know how far Jewel would go, or how much your mother would ignore, so long as the family came out better in the end. Her lesson backfired.”