“Thank you, my lord,” Brigit said, rising and heading for the door. Before she’d gone halfway, she paused and looked at him, her expression softening. “Sorry, Master .”
Again, Leo chuckled. “You still don’t have to call me that.”
“I know, but tonight was— is my turn.”
“But you’re busy,” Leo deduced. “So, no more nighttime frolicking until we’re fully staffed.”
This time, it was Brigit’s turn to chuckle. “You agreed rather easily,” she said. “I didn’t even have to play that card.”
Again, she turned to leave. And again, she paused.
“Oh, also,” she said, in a manner that suggested she had not just remembered something. “Petre came calling while you were out. Again.”
Leo nodded, sighing, and waited until Brigit departed to recline in his chair. Gripping the edge of his desk, he leaned back until his chair balanced on two legs.
He couldn’t help but feel guilty how he’d been avoiding Petre’s visits. It wasn’t that he disliked the youth. To the contrary, Leo enjoyed his irreverence and disdain for Ansiri’s nobility. But his promise to help the young man handle his late father’s estate was tedious work indeed, and made all the more uncomfortable by Leo’s secretive role in facilitating Baron VanAllen’s death.
Still, there was no delaying the inevitable. Not for long, anyway.
Righting himself, Leo did not attempt to soften the thud of his chair against the floor. Nor did he brace himself for the bitterness of the tea as he downed the last of it in a single, large mouthful. Instead, he hunched over his desk, pulled a blank page from the stack in the corner, and began to write.
***
Leo woke to the curtains being drawn open, groaned, and attempted to discover the last vestiges of sleep somewhere in the depths of his pillow. Unfortunately, he did not find it. And, when the bed shifted suddenly from the weight of someone leaping astride it, he promptly discovered the reason for both his early waking and it’s indelicate manner.
“Morning, rich boy,” Davin announced. She stood fully upon the bed, dressed in her usual trousers and freshly muddied boots. At Leo’s glare, she glanced down, then bowed. “Apologies. That would be Baron Rich Boy.”
“Davin,” Leo said, by way of greeting. Sitting up, he eyed her dirty boots a second time and the sunlight streaming through the window. “Did it rain last night?”
“Not a drop,” Davin said, hopping down to stand beside him. “I muddied them just for you. It does a nobleman good to remember his humble beginnings.”
“Playing in the dirt?” he guessed.
“Soiling the bed.”
“Ah. Of course.” He glanced at the marks her boots had left. “I’ll be sure to inform Brigit who is responsible.”
“See that you do,” Davin said, shrugging. She turned, wandering to Leo’s desk and thumbing through a few pages before he could stop her.
He, of course, did so hastily.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
Davin looked at him sharply, then feigned a wounded expression.
“Why am I here?” she asked. “I ought to be asking you, my lord. One of my men said you asked for me.”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” Leo looked around the room, scowling at the lack of furniture, and reluctantly pulled the chair from his desk to offer it to her. “Please, sit.”
“How generous. I’ll stand.”
Shrugging, Leo did likewise, though he did lean across the back of the chair he’d offered. That doing so placed him securely between Davin and the papers on his desk was obviously not lost on her, though she did not comment on it.
“I asked to see you because I’ve recently come into some money,” he said. “And I wanted your advice on… profitable investments.”
“Sensible,” Davin said. Her trademark smirk returned as she began to roam the room. “Fifteen thousand sovereigns is a tidy sum, after all.”
Leo managed to keep his expression blank, but the creaking of the chair as he leaned against it gave him away just as well. Davin heard it, of course, and winked.
“Who told you?” Leo asked.
“Does it matter? Word gets around.”
“It matters.”
In an instant, Davin’s smirk vanished and her carefree posture became entirely businesslike. She folded her arms and stared intensely at him.
“Leo, you once told me to remain a good investment. Do you remember?”
“Of course.”
“Then allow me to give you some advice: Stop being a child.”
He gaped at her.
“Do you know why you managed to kill the Hammonds? Why you were able to do all the things you did?” Davin’s voice grew harder by the second and she did not pause to let him respond. “Because you were lucky. You were a nobody. And you were fortunate enough to have me holding your hand the entire time.”
“Excuse me? I think—”
“No, you don’t think! You behave as if every noble in Ansiri is some drunk, pampered aristocrat just waiting to be cut down by the first upstart with a lick of ambition! Do you think you’re the first person to come up with the idea? Of course not. And now, every single eye in this city is watching you. From here on out, nothing is going to just happen to go your way. Every person you meet is a potential enemy. Every nobleman with a sovereign to spare is going to use it to stop you.”
Leo’s fingers gripped the edge of his chair so tightly the joints ached. He jaw would have done the same, had he not been actively keeping his teeth from clenching.
“Let them,” he growled. “It’s not going to stop me.”
At last, Davin’s grin returned. Just a little.
“Good,” she said. “That’s more like it. Now, what’s your plan?”
Leo hesitated and slowly cocked his head. Then, since he saw no reason in continuing, he released his grip on the chair as well.
“I thought I’d speak to you,” he said.
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, what’s your goal? With your coin, you could purchase every brothel in Ansiri. That’d make you the most powerful man in the Isles.”
“That’s not—wait. How is that?”
Again, Davin winked at him. “You’d set the prices. You could have every whore in Ansiri walking bowlegged, or blue-ball every sailor and craftsman until they riot in the streets.”
“Really?” Leo paused, almost tempted to consider the prospect. “Would that work?”
“Of course not,” Davin said with a dismissive shrug. “Though you would have scores of satisfied wives waiting to kiss your hand. Or castrate you. I’m not actually sure what would happen.”
Despite himself, Leo chuckled. “Perhaps we should try that another time, then. For now, I can spare the coin for another two brothels. But, suppose I plan to become Duke someday. What would you recommend?”
Davin’s smirk returned, in earnest this time, and she pulled a scrap of paper from her doublet. Stepping closer, she offered it to him.
“I thought you might say that,” she said. “Here.”
Leo took the paper, unfolded it, and read the pair of names scrawled upon it. He recognized both, but without any specificity and with even less understanding of the significance.
“What are these?” he asked.
“Who,” Davin corrected. “They’re nobles. Ones you need to eliminate if you plan to become Duke someday.”
Leo looked up from the paper but otherwise found himself rooted in place. He swallowed hard, reread the names, and exhaled a shaky breath.
“Count Jakob Terras,” he said. “And Baroness Cirilla Orczy. Why these two?”
“Many reasons,” Davin said. Her narrowed eyes twinkled as she moved to recline against the foot of Leo’s bed. “Let’s just say I put myself in your shoes for a bit. How much do you know about them?”
“Not much,” Leo admitted.
“ Nobles ,” Davin sighed, using the word like a curse. “Terras is the Third Count of Ansiri and is every
bit the equal of the first two. He owns half the craftsmen in the city—carpenters, masons, smiths. If it stands, rolls, or sails, there’s an even chance he funded its creation.”
“So he’s wealthy.”
“That’s putting it mildly. Worse still, he’s the primary financier for a third of Ansiri’s aldermen. If Terras wants a law passed or a regulation undone, the city council will bend over backward to accommodate him.”
“So he’s wealthy and powerful,” Leo said. “Is that why you want him dead?”
“Me?” Davin laughed. “I don’t give a shit about the man! And neither does the Low Crown. For the most part, Terras turns a blind eye to most of our activities. So, to be honest, they probably prefer he remains the Third Count. You and Wyden are just about the only ones who stand to profit by his removal.”
This time, Leo did flinch. But, before he could voice the question, Davin dismissed it with a wave of her hand.
“Leo, please. You’ve spoken to him several times, he named you the Hammonds’ beneficiary, and you’ve all but told me about him yourself. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Anyone with half a brain, including most of the Ansiri’s nobles, will have guessed you’re working together by now.”
Leo nodded slowly and did his best to suppress his disquiet.
“So Wyden and I both stand to profit if—when Count Terras dies.”
“I didn’t say ‘die,’” Davin pointed out. “I said you need to eliminate him. How you accomplish that is up to you. Though, I suspect Wyden would prefer if you avoid killing Terras. Too many dead nobles is a recipe for war. If I was in your position, I would look for some way to disgrace him publically. Maybe arrange for him to be arrested for murdering a whore. That ought to be enough to strip him of his titles.”
“You want me to frame him for murder?”
“Or get him drunk enough to commit one,” Davin said. A note of exasperation had begun to creep into her voice. “This is politics, Leo. Do you expect to grab power without getting your hands dirty?”
“No,” he admitted. He stared thoughtfully at the paper for a moment before continuing. “What about Orczy? I thought her father held the title.”
“He does,” Davin said. “For now. The physicians say he only has a month or two left to live. The man can’t even speak or feed himself anymore. And once he dies, the title will pass to his daughter in truth. When that happens, Cirilla Orczy will become the most powerful woman in Ansiri.”
“How do you figure? I thought that was you.”
Davin sighed loudly and Leo thought briefly that he’d made a mistake. Then, to his surprise, Davin grinned and a hint of pink warmed her cheeks. It vanished a second later, just as quickly as it had appeared.
“Cute,” she said. “But I’m serious, Leo. Cirilla is unmarried, but I have it on good authority that she’s quite close with the heir to the Pallin family. Baron Orczy refuses to let his daughter marry a commoner, even a wealthy one, but when he passes, that could change. If she marries a Pallin and unites their houses, Baroness Orczy stands to control eighty percent of Ansiri’s shipping.”
“And so I need to eliminate her?” Leo cut in. “If the problem is just a shipping monopoly, wouldn’t it be easier to deal with this lover of hers?”
Davin snorted and rolled her eyes. “Certainly. If you’re trying to go to war with the Orczys. As I said, I don’t care how you do it, Leo. The important thing is that you handle it. With Cirilla Orczy out of the way, an enormous amount of coin is going to find its way into Wyden’s coffers—and yours. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself a count before the year is out. You’ll certainly be able to afford it.”
Leo nodded and returned his gaze to the paper in his hand. To hear Davin tell it, the arrangement all sounded so simple. A couple of deaths, or even none at all, and he could stand on equal footing with Wyden. He would be stone’s throw from the ultimate seat of power in the Isles. And yet, Davin’s warning still rang in his ears. And even without it, he could feel the shape of the monumental effort that lay before him.
Nothing was ever simple, especially in Ansiri.
And yet, there was nothing for it but to take the plunge. Leo glanced at the desk and spotted his empty cup of tea from the night before. Its bitterness was long gone, but the memory remained potent enough to make him shudder. Or at least, that was the excuse he chose to believe.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll make it happen.”
Chapter Three
Despite his rude awakening, Leo soon found himself without a task at hand. He was reluctant to leave the estate until Brigit returned with the new batch of servants. Given how understaffed the place was, pulling Nyssa and Mihal from their domestic duties to escort him felt unnecessarily cruel to the already overworked Delia.
And so he wandered.
Soon, his meandering took him to the recently repurposed cellars. There he found Karran, as he often did, overseeing the work of the kobolds he’d brought with him. The other half remained at his previous estate, continuing their work on the tunnel that would, eventually, connect the two houses. The work here proceeded much slower, of course, given how discretely moving entire rooms’ worth of rock and soil needed to be when working near the center of the city.
He wouldn’t have known it from the smile on Karran’s face, however. The ambrosian turned instantly as he descended the stairs, moving swiftly among the industrious crowd of kobolds. Embracing him, she carefully nuzzled Leo’s cheek with her own and then waved a hand to display their progress.
“Looks like it’s coming along,” Leo said.
Karran nodded in agreement. She started to sign something to him in hand-speech, then paused. Without Nyssa’s aid in translating, and given Leo’s difficulty in mastering more than a few scant basics, there was little way for the mute female to make herself understood. She soon found a solution, however, and stepped away. When she returned a moment later, she held one of the thick, burlap sacks the kobolds had taken to filling with displaced soil. Placing it over her arm like a glove, she held it up for Leo’s inspection. Or, more precisely, she held up the hand that had slipped through a torn corner.
“They’re wearing out already?” Leo sighed. “How many?”
Karran didn’t answer, except to guide his gaze with her own. In the corner of the room, an enormous pile of torn and useless burlap rose over the heads of the kobolds working nearest it.
Leo sighed again. Though inexpensive, his initial purchase of hundreds of the sacks had raised more than a few eyebrows at the market. Still, it was a necessity when constructing a tunnel such as the one he had planned to connect his estates and store the majority of his inherited wealth. Because his walled, private garden was scarcely large enough to host a half-dozen guests, he’d vicariously instructed the kobolds to use the sacks to remove and dispose of the byproducts elsewhere at night, when the scampering of the creatures would go mostly unnoticed.
In any case, he wasn’t looking forward to purchasing more of the material. The less suspicion he raised at present, the better.
“I’ll make sure we repair the ones we can and buy more if that doesn’t work,” he said. He waited until Karran returned the sack to its pile before continuing. “Actually, I need you for something else.”
Karran hesitated briefly, then flashed a fanged grin and raised a questioning brow.
“Not that,” he amended quickly. “I want to check on the drakonid. I’d feel better with you there to protect me.”
Karran’s grin vanished, but not in disappointment. She nodded sharply, rolling her shoulders and flexing her claws.
She undoubtedly intended the show to calm Leo’s nerves—assuring him that she was more than capable of protecting him from harm—but the demonstration had the opposite effect. His stomach rolled. But, it was too late to change his mind now.
Patting Karran on the shoulder, he mounted the stairs and led her out of the cellar. Behind them, the sounds of excavation and small, urgent footfalls continue
d unabated.
Upon reflection, it might have been better to find Mihal and simply ask after the drakonid’s whereabouts. Leo had assumed, incorrectly, that the trow had assigned her one of the secure, windowless rooms on the estate’s ground floor. But, after poking his head into the half-dozen chambers and finding them empty of anything but supplies, he frowned and made his way to the next floor.
There, his luck improved. The first room he entered proved the correct one, though he might have guessed as much by the heavy iron lock built into its handle. The key had been hung around the knob, fortunately, so he was spared the necessity of searching for it as well.
Unfortunately, when he entered, he found the room held more than the single occupant he’d been expecting.
The drakonid lay upon the bed, her arms securely fastened to the iron frame of the headboard in a manner not dissimilar from the way they’d been in Nicolo’s cage. Now, as before, she’d tucked her wings across her body almost shyly. Unlike before, however, her clawed feet were not resting on metal but bedding.
Evidently, the drakonid had not taken kindly to the softness of the mattress and blankets. Or perhaps she’d simply been bored. In any case, she had shredded the fabric, carving her way through to the bed’s wooden bottom and pooling the tattered remains around her like a nest. While that much appeared deliberate, the female had apparently not anticipated just how tall the bed had been before its destruction. She now dangled in a pit of her own making, supported only by her wrists and a pair of shaking legs that she had somehow managed to twist underneath her for some limited support.
And then, like an enormous, wide-eyed gopher, a copper-scaled kobold’s head popped up from the downy pit as well.
“Honey,” Leo sighed. “What are you doing? Get out of there.”
His heart had risen into his throat at the sight of the kobold playing so near to the drakonid’s clawed feet, but he tried to keep that nervousness from his voice. Still, he was unable to fully hold in his sigh of relief when she obediently scrambled over the wall of tattered bedding and trotted to his side. Once there, she grasped his leg and he rewarded her with an idle, affectionate scratch as Karran shut the door behind them.
Baron of Hearts (Master of Monsters Book 2) Page 2