“It was something of a joint effort,” Cirilla supplied, graciously. “Baron VanOrden and I have found common cause, you see.”
“Fitting,” Terras said. His smile faded slightly. “Lord Pervert and the Lovelorn Lady. How appropriate.”
“Your Grace,” Olden interrupted. “I insist you have these two arrested and t—”
“Quiet, Olden,” Terras snapped, his pleasant demeanor shattering in an instant. “You insist nothing . You request nothing . This is a conversation between noblemen.” Nodding to Cirilla, he added, “And soon-to-be-titled noblewomen.”
“But—”
Eyes flashing, Terras stared the alderman down. “Another word from you and I’ll see you driven from this city by hounds.”
Cirilla chuckled. Reaching back, she took one of Leo’s hands and squeezed it softly. “Interesting,” she said. “As a matter of fact, that’s just what we were planning to discuss.”
“Is that so? Well then, by all means,” Terras said with a casual wave.
“It should be obvious by now that your campaign is doomed to failure,” Cirilla said, eyeing Olden. “In the interest of saving us all a great deal of effort and coin, I’d like to offer you a position as captain of one of my family’s trade galleys. The pay is merely adequate, but—”
“Fuck your family!” Olden roared suddenly. He surged to his feet, leaning heavily on his desk as he aimed his vitriol squarely at Cirilla. “You think you can scare me? I have been alderman for more than a decade! I can do things you can’t even imagine! If you think you can—”
“Olden,” Terras said. He spoke softly, but with such weight that Olden’s tirade paused at once. “You will accept the baroness’ offer.”
Silence hung heavy in the air for several long seconds.
“Y-your Grace?”
“You will accept the offer,” Terras repeated. He eyed Cirilla calmly. “One doesn’t need to be a brilliant tactician to realize when a battle is lost. I’ll cede this one to you, Lady Orczy, as a… professional courtesy. In return, I’d ask that you consider an offer of my own.”
Something about the way the count spoke made the hair on the back of Leo’s neck stand on end. He glanced down, trying to read the expression on Cirilla’s face, but could see nothing below the crown of her head.
“I understand that we’ve had our differences in the past,” Terras continued. “But I’ve had a change of heart. I am willing to withdraw my support for the proposed harbor taxes. Your family’s shipping interests will be unaffected. In exchange, I ask that you withdraw your own proposal .”
Leo hesitated. “What are you—”
Terras looked up at him. “Break off your association with Baron VanOrden. Publically disavow your betrothal. Do this, and I will see to it that you become the wealthiest woman in Ansiri.”
For just an instant, the office was still. That stillness ended a moment later when Leo hurled himself at the count. He struck him from the side, bashing his shoulder on the man’s chair as he reached for the count’s throat. The momentum of his lung toppled them both, however, and they hit the ground with a shared grunt.
Terras reacted quickly, for a man twice Leo’s age. He aimed a kick that struck Leo hard in the ribs before glancing off. Snarling, Leo brushed the pain aside and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat.
“Leo!” barked a voice from behind him. “That’s enough! Stop!”
He wanted to ignore her. He wanted to push aside everything but his rage and keep squeezing until the man was dead. But Cirilla’s words had done their job. Slowly, common sense began to bleed through the cracks in Leo’s anger, until he felt as though he was waking from a dream and the man being strangled beneath him was no longer an enemy, but rather one of the most powerful nobles in Ansiri.
Leo staggered backward, empty hands shaking with an excess of adrenaline. He watched as Terras climbed slowly to his feet, coughing and rubbing his neck.
“Smart lad,” Terras croaked. “Listen to your lover while she’s still yours.”
“Next time,” Leo growled. He stepped forward, ignoring Cirilla’s attempts to drag him away. “The next time I see you, Your Grace , will be the last. I will serve your head to the Duke on a silver platter.”
Terras smirked, so infuriatingly that Leo almost forgot himself anew. Fiddling with his collar, the count barely glanced at him.
“Or perhaps I’ll give him yours, Lord Pervert. Time will tell.” Staring past Leo as though he did not exist, the count offered Cirilla a genteel bow. “Consider my offer, my lady.”
“I will, Your Grace,” she replied. Then, in a far harsher tone. “Let’s go, Leo.”
He went.
***
“Well that went well,” Cirilla said, as they reached the gate of Leo’s estate. They’d made the entire journey in utter silence, during which Leo’s wrath had gradually given way to anxiety. But now, upon hearing her voice, he wished the wait had lasted longer.
“Sorry,” he muttered, unable to meet her eye. “I know, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Of course you shouldn’t have.” She fidgeted, crossing and uncrossing her arms as she stared at the edifice of Leo’s manse. “Though I suppose I’m flattered. I didn’t think you’d try and kill a count for interfering in our engagement.”
“Then…” Leo began. He hesitated, almost afraid to put the question into words. “You’re not going to accept his offer?”
“Are you serious?” Cirilla scoffed. “Not for all the sovereigns in Ansiri.”
“Really?” Leo exclaimed, caught off guard by the relief he felt. “We only just met, after all.”
Chuckling, she stepped closer and swatted him on the arm. “Don’t go getting all weepy on me, dear. It’s not loyalty. If he’d approached me privately and made a better offer, I might have considered it.” Her expression hardened suddenly as she began to grind her teeth. “But I’ll be damned if I let another elderly bastard tell me who I can marry. Never again.”
“I see,” Leo murmured. Perhaps he should have anticipated her explanation, but somehow, a part of him had hoped that his fiancée had truly fallen for him. “Should I be worried? What if he decides to make you a better offer?”
“He won’t.”
“But if he does?” Forcing a smile, Leo angled his head to look Cirilla in the eye. She grinned back in earnest.
“If he does,” she answered, emphasizing the first word. “Then you’ll just have to make me an even better one.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leo’s anger had cooled somewhat by the time he and Cirilla reached his estate. In some ways, the clarity that came with it was welcome. In others, it was not. The audacity of what he had done, nearly murdering one of Ansiri’s counts, lay heavily around his neck like a hangman’s rope.
Cirilla must have sensed his unease, for she clutched his arm tightly as he walked. The sensation, relatively new though it was, grounded him.
The man waiting for him at the gate, however, had precisely the opposite effect.
Petre VanAllen scowled as Leo approached. The youth’s hands were thrust deep into his pockets and he’d turned up his collar, as if doing so might disguise him from any chance passerby. Unfortunately, it did exactly the reverse, and Leo sighed as he neared him.
“Petre, what are you doing?” he asked. “You look ridiculous.”
“I don’t care,” the youth snapped. He glanced at Cirilla, then back to Leo. “Can we talk?”
Leo turned to Cirilla, but she was already pulling free of his arm. She grinned knowingly.
“Go on, have you fun,” she said. “I know the way home.”
“Are you sure?” Leo asked, thoughtlessly. He hastened to add, “I mean, I could have Nyssa—”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I don’t have quite so many enemies as you.”
And without waiting for a reply, she turned and marched away. Leo watched her go for a few steps, then turned back to Petre and tugged the man’s collar do
wn into place.
“Come on,” he grumbled. “I’ll pour you a drink.”
“There’s no need,” Petre said. He followed Leo inside the gate, then paused and eyed his guards. “This won’t take long. I just have a few ideas about how to keep my fa—my coin hidden. If it’s out of reach, then—”
Leo whirled, his rage returning in an instant. Seizing Petre by the collar, he pushed the youth back several paces.
“I told you,” he snarled. “You’re going to pay the bastard! Don’t give Terras any excuse! I need him to think he’s winning!”
Wide-eyed, Petre only stared at him for a moment. Then, slowly, he reached up and pried Leo’s hands off of his shirt. The moment he’d done so, all of Leo’s anger vanished, quickly as it had come.
“Sorry,” he said. Sighing, he held up an apologetic hand. “I’m sorry, Petre. I just spoke to Terras and things got… tense.”
Petre froze, fingers still glued to his half-adjusted collar. He glanced around, then leaned in close.
“You did?” he asked eagerly. It appeared Petre’s curiosity far outweighed his shock and indignation at Leo’s behavior. “What happened?”
Leo chuckled once, dryly. “Plenty. I nearly killed him, for starters. Had my hands around his neck and everything.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I’m not an idiot,” Leo said. “Terras tried to interfere with my engagement. He knows that if Cirilla and I are working together, that might be enough to unseat him.”
“Wait, you’re engaged? To Cirilla Orczy?”
Leo hesitated, surprised by the question. Breaking out in a smile, he shrugged and waved dismissively.
“It’s a long story,” he said. “But yes, we’re engaged. The important thing is she has her own reasons to hate Terras. He tried to separate us.”
“Well, uh… congratulations?”
Leo glared at him, though not severely, before continuing.
“The good news is that our plan worked. Cirilla was able to arrange a scandal involving Jaime Olden. Terras convinced him to drop out of the election. Now, we just need to find a way to use it against him.”
He eyed Petre, hoping the youth might have some cunning insight into how that step might be accomplished. Instead, he found only a smile.
“I’m sorry,” Petre said. “I follow, but… I just can’t get over the engagement. You, Baron Leo VanOrden , are going to be married?”
Sighing again, Leo reached for Petre’s jacket. The youth flinched, but rather than violence, Leo simply reached inside it and retrieved the ever-present flask from the breast pocket. He drank deeply from it, holding the liquor in his mouth until he’d returned the flask, then eyed Petre with a stony expression.
“Not another word,” he warned. “I’d like to spread the word to the other aldermen that Terras forced Olden to withdraw, but I’m not certain how to manage it without making it obvious that we’re responsible. You’re a bit more socially active than I am. Any ideas?”
Leo half-expected Petre to ignore him and continue to press the issue of relationships. He was pleasantly surprised, therefore, when the youth donned a more thoughtful look and began to pace slightly.
“Nothing clever,” he admitted, after a moment. “But, why don’t you just use Nicolo? He’s constantly complaining about nobles in his speeches and it’s not exactly common knowledge yet that you’re financing him. If he were to mention it at this big rally of his tomorrow, I’m sure word would get back to the rest of the Council.”
“That’s tomorrow?” Leo asked. It was hard to keep track of such things, though he could not remember if Nicolo had even mentioned the timing during his request for more money. “Interesting. That… might actually do it. I guess I better let him know he’s already won the election.”
“Or you could not ,” Petre suggested, grinning. “That might be funny. He could start railing against Olden in front of thousands and we could place bets on how long it takes someone to tell him.”
Leo didn’t bother answering. Instead, he began to pace as well, weaving together more divergent threads of his scheme. He’d hardly begun walking, however, when Petre stopped.
“Want me to tell him, then?” he asked. “I don’t have any plans for the rest of the day.”
Leo considered the offer for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I’ll tell him,” he said. “I already have something else to discuss with him.”
“Well, whatever you’re planning, you’d better do it fast,” Petre said. Meeting Leo’s gaze, he offered a thin, insincere grin. “Unless you handle Terras in the next two weeks, I’m going to send you a bill for two thousand sovereigns.”
***
It took Leo close to two hours to finally track down Nicolo. He spent the first of the two wandering throughout Olden’s ward in search of the man before deciding to visit his home. Then, when silence answered his knock, he even went so far as to confirm with his trow that he’d visited the correct house. The lack of anyone to answer the door frustrated him and he was about to give up and return home when the obvious solution came to him. Cursing his stupidity, he turned on his heel and set off for the slave markets.
He found Nicolo precisely where the man ought to have been, seated behind his messy desk in his office at the auction hall.
“Leo!” the man exclaimed with genuine joy. “Just the man I was hoping to see. Come in! Have a seat! I’ve got some things I—” Nicolo paused at the sight of Karran and the trow at Leo’s back.
He wasn’t the only one. Leo was suddenly aware of the stiffness of his guards, followed a second later by a quiet growl from Karran. Throwing an arm across the open doorway before any of them could step through, he fixed each with a stern glare.
“Wait outside,” he instructed. “And behave. I won’t belong.”
Then, before any of his escorts could protest, he swiftly shut the door behind him. No sooner were they alone than Nicolo’s smile returned.
“I guess they’re the sort to hold grudges?” he suggested casually. “It’s not a problem, Leo, don’t apologize. What brings you? Need more kobs?”
Leo shook his head and offered his hand. Smiling through his obvious confusion, Nicolo took it.
“Congratulations, alderman,” Leo said. “On your impending victory.”
Nicolo cocked his head and quirked a brow. “Something I should know about?” he asked.
“Cirilla and I paid a visit to Olden this morning,” Leo explained. “At Count Terras’ insistence, he plans to withdraw his candidacy.”
Grinning, Nicolo did his best to not appear overly pleased. He shook Leo’s hand firmly, nodding in time to the motion.
“Reluctantly, I’m sure,” he said.
“Quite,” Leo agreed. “I suppose your rally tomorrow will be more of a celebration now. Is it too late to ask for my money back?”
Nicolo chuckled and fluttered his fingers toward the ceiling. “Gone and spent, I’m afraid. Though I do have forty-odd sovereigns left over, if you’ve found yourself in a tight spot.”
“Of a different sort,” Leo admitted, evasively. “There are a few points I’d like you to make at tomorrow’s event. And, if you’re willing, I have a few ideas on how those leftover sovereigns might be spent.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Nicolo reclined against the edge of his desk. “But of course,” he said, bowing slightly. “I’m at your disposal, my lord.”
***
For the first time in what felt like ages, Leo found himself without anything that required his attention. He knew that, given enough time, the feeling would eventually become boredom. But now, with the disparate fragments of his scheme coming together and the anticipation of the following evening’s event, he savored the momentary quiet.
Not that it stopped his mind from working through possibilities, of course.
He was tempted to go searching for Davin. Though it had only been three days since their argument and subsequent falling out, he knew that it was important t
o remain on good terms with the woman. But her words had left him wary. If she’d only recently learned of Olden’s forced withdrawal—or worse, if she hadn’t yet heard—he didn’t want to be anywhere near her. He liked her, but not enough to place his life in her hands.
And, since he’d only just spoken to Petre and Nicolo, he found himself at a loss for how to pass the time.
Turning to Mihal, he offered the slave a wry smile.
“I need more friends,” he said.
“Master?” the trow replied, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Nevermind.” Shaking his head, Leo set off at a slow, meandering pace.
He could go visit Cirilla, he supposed, but he doubted the woman would welcome spending every spare minute with him. They’d only parted ways a few hours ago, after all.
Which left… who exactly?
The answer came to Leo suddenly and stopped him in his tracks. He laughed, loudly enough to draw glances from many of the tradesmen making their way through the narrow, filthy street. Ignoring their stares, he marched swiftly back toward the noble district at the city’s center.
The doorman at Wyden’s estate was courteous, as always, but hesitated slightly upon finding Leo outside. Nevertheless, he ushered Leo inside with a bow and left him standing in the foyer. It was several long minutes before he returned and asked Leo to follow.
Dismissing his escorts with a wave of his hand, Leo did just that. He found Wyden in an upper-story parlor, rather than the office he expected. The man was seated on a low sofa and fiddled with the straps of an artificial leg.
“Baron VanOrden, Your Grace,” the servant announced, bowing low.
“Thank you, Marchand,” Wyden answered. He did not look up, even once the man departed and left Leo alone with him. Straightening his leg experimentally, Wyden muttered a curse and resumed adjusting.
It was several minutes before the man spoke again.
“Leo,” Wyden said simply. He glanced up for an instant, then extended his leg a second time. This time, he appeared pleased with the result and climbed unsteadily to his feet. “I trust there is a reason for your visit?”
Baron of Hearts (Master of Monsters Book 2) Page 18