“It certainly doesn’t hurt,” Petre muttered.
“It’s because of his support from Ansiri’s aldermen. Terras finances their campaigns and helps them stay in office. According to Davin, he’s got at least a third of the city council in his pocket. If we can undermine that support and make the aldermen realize they’re vulnerable, we can fight Terras on even footing.”
“And how do you plan to do that, exactly?” Nicolo asked. Leaning forward in his chair, he eyed Leo skeptically. “There are thirty aldermen on the council. And if what you say is true, Terras owns a third of them. Even if the three of us pooled every sovereign we have, I doubt we could buy more three seats.”
“We don’t have to buy three seats,” Leo said, grin widening. “We only need one: Jaime Olden. He’s the chief alderman for Terras’ home district. And at the moment, he just so happens to be running unopposed. If we can back an alternate candidate, the rest will grow skittish. Hell, we don’t even need to win , just garner enough support for a plausible challenge.”
“The election is in less than a month,” Nicolo pointed out. “Most of the candidates have been campaigning for the better part of a year. Even if you can afford it, do you really think you can find a suitable candidate in that time? Let alone convince thousands of people to vote for them?”
Grimacing, Petre looked at Leo. “He has a point,” he admitted.
“I have someone in mind,” Leo said, fighting to keep his grin from showing. “He’s an Ansiri native, born and raised. He’s a commoner, but a wealthy businessman who provides jobs, affordable labor, and entertainment for the working masses. And, most importantly, he’s used to dealing with large audiences and just so happens to own a home in Jaime Olden’s district.”
Petre stared at Leo for a moment, then slowly turned to follow his gaze.
For once, Nicolo appeared speechless. Even his nervous energy seemed to have vanished. He sat motionless, wine forgotten as he gripped the arms of his chair.
“You can’t be serious,” he said, at last. Then, adopting a suspicious scowl, asked, “How do you know where I live?”
“You’re friends with Davin,” Leo said, shrugging. “Information flows both ways, my friend. So, will you do it?”
Nicolo averted his gaze and began to drum his fingers on the chair arm. Without even needing to read the man, Leo could tell he was calculating figures in his head, weighing odds and other sums that Leo couldn’t begin to guess.
“If I do this,” Nicolo said slowly, “I want it understood that this was your little scheme. You are the one financing it. I don’t want a bill of any kind showing up at my office door.”
“Done,” Leo replied, without hesitation.
Sighing, Nicolo rose from his chair and reluctantly offered his hand to shake. Leo took it, squeezing firmly.
“I should have known you two would find some way to stir the nobles’ pot,” Nicolo said. “Who knows? This could be fun.”
“Thank you, Nicolo,” Leo said. “We’re counting on you.”
Slowly, then all at once, a broad, wry smile lit the slaver’s face. “That’s alderman to you, Baron,” he said.
***
“Leo,” Petre said in a quiet voice. “Could I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
Leo paused in the doorway, still holding the door open politely. He glanced at Nicolo, but the man only grinned.
“I’m sure I can remember the way,” he said. “I’ll show myself out.”
Nodding gratefully, Leo stepped back into the study and closed the door. He regarded Petre expectantly, but the youth seemed content to wait a moment until he could be sure they were safe from any eavesdroppers. After a moment, Petre wandered back and took the seat Nicolo had once occupied.
“It’s about this woman,” he said quietly, then grimaced. “Also, I wish you had asked me first. Before sharing all this with Nicolo.”
“I trust him,” Leo said.
“The man sells slaves,” Petre protested, a bit half-heartedly.
“And does it well. That’s why I chose him.” Sighing, Leo shrugged. “But, you’re right. I apologize. I should have consulted you first.”
“It probably doesn’t matter,” Petre said. “Half the city will know before long.”
“We’ll stop Terras before that happens,” Leo assured him. “Now, what was this about the woman?”
“I… I think I know who it might be,” Petre admitted. “That paper didn’t name her, just Terras, but I have a pretty good idea. There was this one maid, my father’s favorite. She left our house months ago, after her contract expired. My father tried to convince her to stay, but she refused. He was… disappointed.”
Moving slowly, as if to avoid startling Petre into silence, Leo took the seat opposite. He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him.
“Do you remember her name?” he asked. “What she looked like?”
“It was… Aileen, I think? I’m pretty sure.” Petre fidgeted, then lifted his head to stare fiercely at Leo. “I don’t really remember what she looked like, but my father never touched her. I guarantee it.”
Leo nodded in agreement. Whether or not the child truly had been fathered by the late Baron VanAllen ultimately made little difference. Nor did the authenticity of the woman’s letters. The only thing that mattered was stopping Terras before the man’s plans came to fruition.
“I’ll have some people watch the count’s estate,” he offered. “If we find this woman, perhaps we can discuss the matter with her directly. She might be more honest with us than she has been with Terras.”
Petre nodded and hung his head. He stayed like that, in abject silence, for the better part of a minute.
“Thank you, Leo,” he said, at last. “I’m glad you’re on my side.”
Despite himself, Leo was forced to fight down a fresh pang of guilt. He’d never told Petre of his role in his father’s death, nor would he, of course. Still, it was a relief to be able to fight for the youth’s interests, rather than against them. Regardless of how cruelly he might have used him in the past, Leo liked Petre. The young man’s casual irreverence had all but vanished the wake of the father’s murder, but if any part of it remained, Leo would do what he could to preserve it.
For now, at least.
“Of course,” Leo said. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
Chapter Nine
The following three days passed in a blur of near frantic busyness as Leo helped prepare for the launch of Nicolo’s campaign, in addition to stabilizing the affairs of his own household. Not only did he introduce himself to the ten newest members of his household—clothed this time—he also successfully relocated Sann to her new, less restrictive quarters without incident. Several times, a sudden movement from the drakonid convinced him that he’d made a terrible mistake, but in the end, she accepted her new quarters with nothing more than a chaste kiss, a promise of death to his enemies, and a sultry invitation for him to consummate their new relationship. Under the circumstances, he politely deferred, though he did manage to find the time to bed both Brigit and Delia before duty drew him once more out into the city.
Mihal and Nyssa were both busy, Leo having tasked both trow with observing the Terras estate for any sign of the elusive Aileen. And so, Leo made his way circuitously around the Ministry of Justice flanked by four of Davin’s borrowed men. If this crew thought it unusual that Leo would cross town just to visit a brothel, despite having passed several along the way, none of them said anything.
Though, perhaps he ought to have expected as much when the men did not enter after him. No sooner had Leo walked through the door and cleared his throat of the cloud of dust and perfume that greeted him than he spotted Davin seated at the bar. She acknowledged him with a nod and a wave of the fingers she’d wrapped around her tumbler.
“Leo,” she said flatly. “What do you think?”
He glanced around. The unoccupied common room certainly displayed far more potent an air of refinement and taste than th
e brothels he’d purchased in the poorer, working-class areas of the city. But for all the plush, oversized furniture and ornate tapestries that covered the walls, the building beneath felt strangely inappropriate—and not in the way one expected from a whorehouse.
“It doesn’t feel quite like a brothel,” he admitted.
Davin chuckled at that and leaned across the bar to retrieve a second glass. She poured for him, sliding the tumbler in front of the seat adjacent hers.
“That’s because it wasn’t,” she said, as Leo took the indicated chair. “I’ve been experimenting, you see. Did you know it’s actually cheaper to purchase a tavern, furnish it, and hire girls away from other brothels than it is to simply buy one outright? Granted, it takes far more work, but….”
“But the men who visit don’t much care about the walls,” he supplied.
“As long as they’re soundproof.” Grinning, Davin toasted him with her drink, then downed the last of it. “Plus, the bar is nicer.”
Chuckling, Leo sipped his drink. He couldn’t identify the taste and didn’t recognize the name on the bottle, but whatever it was, he preferred it immensely compared to the expensive liqueur he’d shared with Count Terras.
“You’ll need to change the name though,” he pointed out. “The Drowned Dog doesn’t exactly… excite.”
“The new sign should be finished tomorrow,” Davin said with a shrug. “I’m calling it the Rowdy Bitch . How does that sound?”
“It’ll work,” Leo said, matching her shrug with one of his own. With so much on his mind, he was finding it increasingly hard to focus on small talk. “So why did you ask to see me?”
Davin’s smile faded, then vanished altogether as she refilled her tumbler with the last of the bottle. She sipped it, facing the bar and pointedly keeping her eyes from flicking in Leo’s direction.
“I’ve been hearing rumors,” she said flatly. “Quite disturbing ones.”
“What sort?” Leo asked. “Besides disturbing.”
Davin did not laugh or even smirk in the least. Instead, her brow furrowed as she sipped woodenly at her drink.
“I’ve heard that there’s to be a campaign rally today,” she said. “A late challenger for Jaime Olden’s seat as alderman.”
“Correct,” Leo said. There was no point in trying to hide the fact, nor any reason why he might want to. Even though he failed to grasp why Davin might find such a thing disturbing, to disguise his involvement would only bring more trouble. “I convinced Nicolo to seek a council position.”
“You should have consulted me first,” Davin growled. Though she still did not look his way, Leo noticed with some alarm that she had grasped her tumbler to the point of growing white-knuckled. And yet, despite her visible frustration, he could see no reason to back down.
In fact, her very tone fanned his indignation.
“Why?” he demanded. “You said yourself that I could deal with Terras as I saw fit. Undermining his supporters is a logical first step.”
Davin’s face snapped toward him. Her eyes were blazing, but beneath the outer veneer of anger, Leo noticed something else. There was an odd sort of nervousness behind her gaze, imprecisely covered over like the walls of the brothel itself.
“I told you to deal with Terras ,” she growled. “Not pick a fight with his cronies.”
“Then you should have mentioned that,” Leo answered hotly. “Why? Why is this bothering you?”
Scoffing, Davin finished her drink in two heavy gulps. “How the fuck would you know what bothers me?” she asked.
“I can tell. Davin, just tell me. Why is this a problem?”
For a second, Davin sat unmoving. Then she leaned bodily across the bar and reached for another bottle. Unfortunately, it stood just out of reach and her fingertips merely nudged it further out of reach. Cursing, she settled back into her seat and drummed her fingers as if considering whether the prize was worth moving to retrieve.
Wordlessly, Leo leaned over the bar, grabbed the bottle from its shelf, and handed it to her.
She didn’t thank him. Instead, she simply uncorked the bottle, poured herself a glass. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she did likewise to his unfinished one.
“Jaime Olden,” she said quietly. “Is an arrogant, unlikeable bastard. Personally, I’d like nothing more than to watch Nicolo crush him. Unfortunately, it isn’t my decision to make. Olden turns a blind eye to quite a few Low Crown activities in his ward. The people who decide such things would rather continue dealing with him than gamble on an unknown.”
“Is that why he runs unopposed?” Leo asked. He spoke slowly, piecing things together as he went. “The Low Crown decides who sits on the council?”
Davin shrugged, throwing her arms wide. “Welcome to Ansiri,” she said with exaggerated grandeur. “You lot hold the titles, host your fancy parties, and piss away your coin in shitholes like this one. The rest of us mortals do what we can to keep food on our tables and beer in our bellies. And sometimes, that even means following the rules.”
Chewing his lip, Leo regarded the tumbler in front of him. The alcohol inside it had mixed poorly, blending into a cloudy mess of yellow-green. Inserting a finger, he thoughtfully swirled it until the colors evened.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I promised Petre that we’d deal with Terras.”
“Then let me help,” Davin insisted, an uncharacteristic note of desperation creeping into the space between words. “As I said, it would be easy enough to frame the count for murder. This brothel will be ready to open any day now. I have a few contacts, baronets and other lordling types, who could invite Terras here. We have one of the girls offer him some free exercise and before you know it, the man’s reputation is in shambles.”
“Along with ours,” Leo muttered. He glanced around the empty bar and common room. “I spent good money on this place. We both did. I’m not about to squander it on a bastard like Terras.”
“Did you hear a word I said?” Davin nearly bellowed. “There is no other choice! Even if Nicolo could run this campaign and win—which he won’t!—you’ll spend twice what you paid for this place!”
“Perhaps,” Leo said. “But you’re the one who told me that nothing is going to go my way from now on.”
“Don’t you dare try and use my words against me!” Davin growled. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she rose from her chair. Even standing, her height meant that she rose barely an inch higher than Leo. “You don’t want me for your fucking enemy.”
Leo nodded, as calmly as he could. “Of course, I don’t,” he said. “I’d like to remain your friend, Davin.”
“Then listen to my damned advice!”
“I’m trying to. But there has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
Davin glared at him a moment longer, then scoffed and threw up her hands. She made as if to leave, but paused as she neared the door.
“I’ve done everything I can to help you, Leo,” she said. “Do whatever you want, but I’ll tell you this: If you keep playing this game of yours, you and Nicolo are liable to end up dead. Or worse.”
***
It took Leo close to an hour to finish the single tumbler of mixed alcohol Davin had poured for him. It wasn’t that he disliked the taste, on the contrary, he quite enjoyed it. Rather, the thing that kept him seated was the host of thoughts she’d left him to ponder.
On the surface, nothing Davin had said was up for debate. Yes, it would be far easier to simply orchestrate a scandal that might diminish Terras’ influence. Yes, running a campaign was both costly and allegedly courting disaster. And yes, his goals would be more neatly served by simply acquiescing to her proposal.
But still, something about the whole situation gnawed at him. Baron Leo VanOrden might be the inexperienced heir to a much-waned noble house, but everything he’d accomplished since acceding the title had been due to his ambition. Certainly, luck had played a role, but his good fortune had been thanks to events he had set in motion.
Davin had her own motives for helping him; it was thanks to her suggestion that he’d even picked Terras as a potential target. And the second he abandoned his plans based on her whim would be the day he ceased to hold his own in the city.
Besides, there was still time. If Nicolo’s candidacy failed to build any momentum, he could always change course and beg for Davin’s assistance. The necessary groveling would take some rehearsal, of course, but he would manage.
The lack of escorts waiting for him as he stepped out of the soon-to-be brothel probably should have alarmed him. But, under the circumstances, Leo wasn’t particularly fond of relying on any of Davin’s men for protection. They’d obviously been feeding her information about his guests and activities. And while that was ordinarily a price he paid gladly in exchange for protection, his current mood was rather more belligerent.
He was doubly grateful to be on his own when he reached the edge of Nicolo’s announcement. The man had evidently decided to throw his whole being into the effort of his campaign. He had appropriated a small park, tucked amid a row of single-story residences, and filled nearly the entire space with a makeshift stage. Standing in front of it, a half-dozen men that Leo recognized as ushers from Nicolo’s auction hall distributed leaflets and what he later discovered to be tickets for free admission to upcoming auctions.
Even more astonishing was the size of the crowd. Several hundred people gathered around the stage, and while some had only approached to claim handouts, the vast majority were held spellbound by the man himself.
Nicolo paced the rim of the stage, his excessive energy manifesting itself in both his unusually bouncing walk and the vigor with which he spoke.
“You know it’s true!” Nicolo boomed, his stage voice so unlike his normal one that Leo had to double-check to be sure it was really him speaking. “We’ve seen it time and time again! Plague, famine, fires, crime—every time disaster strikes, it’s the same thing! The nobles come, the aldermen come, the tax collectors come! ‘Such a tragedy,’ they say! ‘If only we had the coin! We could afford to put an end to such things!’”
Baron of Hearts (Master of Monsters Book 2) Page 7