Baron of Hearts (Master of Monsters Book 2)

by Hadley, Stephen L.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I can’t believe you,” Leo murmured, without looking in Cirilla’s direction. Though he spoke softly enough for her ears alone, he did not doubt that Wyden noticed. Fortunately, the Duke continued his lecture on the virtues of marriage without acknowledging Leo’s distraction.

  Beside him, Cirilla gently squeezed his arm.

  “What part?” she whispered back. “That I asked Wyden to officiate or the fact that I’m actually going to be your wife?”

  “That you went behind my back to arrange this,” he growled. Since the gallery full of nobles was at his back, he made no attempt to disguise his scowl.

  “I thought men were supposed to like it when their wives surprised them?”

  “Not this kind of surprise.” He paused a moment, then leaned slightly closer. “Did you know Wyden was going to do it? Kill the Duke?”

  Cirilla’s passive, unwavering smile did not falter as she shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Not exactly. He told me he planned to become Duke, but I never imagined it would be so… public.”

  “When was this?”

  “A few days ago. I went to see him after you nearly killed Terras. He asked me to look after you and offered me the countess title in return.”

  “Lovely,” Leo grumbled. “Good to know your loyalty can be bought.”

  “Oh, hush,” Cirilla chided him. She elbowed his side under the guise of clinging tighter to his arm. “It’s not as though I hid it. I told Terras that someone had made me a better offer, if you recall. Besides, Wyden was rewarding you as well.”

  “By giving the title to someone else?” Leo asked, somewhat bitterly.

  “Hardly. You’re my husband—well, almost. In a couple of minutes, you’ll be a count.”

  “Only by marriage.”

  “And? The only thing anyone cares about is the title itself. You’ll be free to lounge around while I do all the monotonous work. Honestly, I wish he had given you the title first.”

  “Then why not tell him that?”

  “Because,” Cirilla said, shooting him an annoyed look. “I’m looking after the wellbeing of my husband. I’m a better schemer and you brood too much. This way, I don’t have to watch you scowl for hours every evening.”

  Despite himself, Leo chuckled under his breath. His bride-to-be was correct, after all. As much as he resented being outmaneuvered, holding the title of count without most of the assigned responsibilities had its appeal.

  “All right,” he muttered. “I suppose that makes sense. You win.”

  Turning slightly, Cirilla grinned broadly at him. “I do,” she agreed.

  Or at least, he assumed she was agreeing with him. That notion was shattered a moment later when Wyden cleared his throat.

  “Don’t fall asleep on me, Baron VanOrden,” the Duke teased. “Do you vow to love, shield, and honor this woman, through wealth and austerity, until your last day?”

  Leo sighed, though subtly to avoid drawing Cirilla’s ire. A part of him still resented the suddenness of the whole affair. And yet, what other choice did he have? It was a smart match and Cirilla had proven accommodating and accomplished so far. He would be hard-pressed to find a better option in the whole of the Isles.

  “I do,” he admitted.

  “Then, by my authority as Duke of Ansiri and Lord of the Isles, I pronounce you wed,” Wyden said. He waited a moment, then leaned forward and added, “And that was your cue to kiss her, fool.”

  Leo swallowed another sigh. Before he could move to act on Wyden’s words, however, Cirilla seized him by the collar and pulled him into a deep, tender kiss. Leo’s cheeks burned at the outburst of laughter and applause her initiative drew from the crowd, but he made no attempt to pull away first.

  “Your Graces, lords, and ladies,” Wyden announced, louder. “I present to you, the Count and Countess VanOrden.”

  ***

  The return journey to Cirilla’s estate was a surreal and somewhat subdued one. Leo had half expected the crowd of nobles to panic and flee the second they were out of reach of Wyden’s soldiers. But, instead, the men and women simply gossiped. A few approached Leo to congratulate him, while a far larger number did the same to Cirilla. No one seemed disturbed by the sudden deaths any longer; it was as if the news of Sutherpoint’s declared independence and the naming of new counts had pushed such grisly thoughts completely from their minds.

  Two of Wyden’s men continued to escort them until they emerged from the Ministry of Justice out into the sunlight, where a pair of Cirilla’s escorts waited for them. Her men looked uneasy to see armed guards emerging from the Ministry but quickly regained their composure when Cirilla smiled and announced their destination.

  She continued to cling to Leo’s arm the entire way, not speaking much but simply enjoying his company. Leo, on the other hand, found himself unable to enjoy the quiet. His thoughts burned like dried kindling to the point that he was nearly surprised smoke did not come pouring out of his mouth when he finally gave voice to them.

  “So what happens now?” he asked.

  From the look his wife gave him, it was clear she thought the answer obvious. Fortunately, she humored him.

  “Now, we prepare,” she said. “We consolidate our gains and look for the next opportunity. With Terras out of the way, there will be quite a bit of scrambling for resources. I’m sure you’re familiar; I hear the same thing happened when your grandfather passed.”

  Leo grunted affirmatively, his jaw tightening. The memory was an unpleasantly recent one. And despite the ground he’d recovered in the many months since, the losses he’d suffered still stung.

  “Isn’t that premature?” he asked. “Terras could still reappear. He’s only missing.”

  “True, but it’s only a matter of time,” Cirilla said. “His loss is our gain. And if we don’t seize the opportunity, others will. Besides, I highly doubt we’ll have to worry about him.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Guess,” she replied, grinning. “Anyway, Sutherpoint is the real problem. I already have five or six trade ships on their way. We’re sure to lose at least two before word spreads.”

  “That’s… not good,” Leo said, eyes widening. “How much do we stand to lose?”

  “A few thousand sovereigns,” Cirilla said, shrugging. Noticing his expression, she took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “It’s not so much in the grand scheme of things. There are almost a hundred ships in the Orczy—well, the VanOrden fleet. It’s not uncommon to lose a couple to storms or pirates now and again.”

  “A hundred ships?” Leo exclaimed. Between the advice of Davin and Wyden, he’d grasped a little the scale of the Orczy shipping empire, but the wealth represented by Cirilla’s claim staggered the imagination.

  Had he known, there was no chance he would ever have dared ignore her.

  “Give or take,” she continued. “But Sutherpoint is such a long journey that there are only about a dozen ships with that destination. It won’t be difficult to reassign them. The real problems will begin when Lionel decides to start raiding the fleets that pass by.”

  “You think he will?”

  “Without a doubt. Sutherpoint itself is relatively self-sustaining, but there are dozens of nearby settlements nearby that rely on it for raw materials. If they run out of timber or iron, the entire isle is going to descend on the city. Unless Lionel can find some way to supply them first.”

  “Which means Wyden doesn’t even need to raise an army,” Leo surmised. Though he obviously lacked his wife’s experience in matters of trade, he was determined to prove himself capable of extrapolating. That much, at least, he could do. “Without trade, Sutherpoint Isle is practically under siege already. If he… if the Duke can blockade their ports, it’s only a matter of time before they’ll be forced to come crawling back.”

  “Correct,” Cirilla said, grinning. “Or close enough. And, unless there’s a fleet of warships docked inside that wooden leg of his, that
’s precisely why Wyden chose the counts he did. Moor, Parrott, and Quinn have the three of the largest fleets in Ansiri—besides ours, of course. And now that Wyden has them in his pocket, all he has to do is arm them with marines and he’ll effectively control the seas.”

  Leo nodded thoughtfully, then cocked his head and looked at her.

  “Are we in Wyden’s pocket then?” he asked.

  Cirilla’s grin widened and she shook her head. “Of course not,” she said. “But there’s no harm in making him think that we are, is there?”

  Leo might have disagreed, but let the point drop as they reached her— their estate. His wife continued to grasp his arm until they reached the front door, then pulled away as it was opened by a servant. She eyed Leo expectantly.

  “What?” he teased. “You want me to carry you over the threshold?”

  Cirilla scowled, then gestured impatiently for him to enter. “Don’t you dare,” she snapped.

  Chuckling, Leo accepted her invitation and stepped inside. A second later, as the door closed behind her, Cirilla once again linked her arm with his.

  “Come with me,” she said. And with that, she tugged him into motion and led him purposefully down one of the side corridors. The look on her face as she moved was so focused, in fact, that Leo couldn’t resist the urge to tease her further.

  “So, Countess VanOrden , does this mean we’ll finally consummate our union?”

  Cirilla swatted him on the arm, then stopped in her tracks and looked as if she was actually considering the question. Slowly, a wry smile spread across her features.

  “If you’d like,” she said, resuming her brisk march. “But I’ve got something to show you. Something you’ll find far more interesting.”

  Leo snorted. “I doubt that. You underestimate my—”

  He fell silent, the hair rising on the back of his neck as he recognized the room to which the woman had brought him. It had only been a day since he’d carried Mihal’s body to the chamber before him. And, as Cirilla opened the door, he felt that same sense of foreboding return.

  Thankfully, it didn’t last long.

  On the other side of the door stood Nyssa, wearing a borrowed set of clothes and a thin, steely smile.

  “Master,” she said. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

  Leo shook his head, but before he could speak, Cirilla stepped into the room and gestured for him to follow. He did so reluctantly and was relieved to find that Mihal’s body no longer lay on the room’s bed. Instead, the wooden base and headboard had been stripped of both mattress and sheets and had been dragged to block access to the small closet at the room’s corner.

  “She arrived an hour or so after you left,” Cirilla explained. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you after Wyden’s summons, but I was busy dealing with things here. Your messenger did arrive, though. I almost sent Nyssa back with her, but…”

  “But we decided it would be more interesting to surprise you,” Nyssa finished with a cold, humorless chuckle.

  The two women shared a knowing look. Leo eyed them both, uncertain.

  “More interesting?” he echoed.

  Again, the women exchanged glances. This time, however, Cirilla nodded and Nyssa moved to drag the misaligned bed back into place. Then, with a slight flourish, she threw open the closet door.

  A bound, hooded figure sat on the closet floor, naked except for the dark, linen bag that had been tied over its head. Both of the man’s knees were scraped and bloody, but the injuries did not stop there. Dozens of small gashes marred his shins and sides, small enough to scarcely bleed, but numerous enough that they could not have been anything but deliberate. Then, as if sensing the presence of onlookers, the figure groaned weakly and slumped against the closet wall.

  The sound of the man’s voice, muffled though it was, sent a chill down Leo’s spine. He stared at Cirilla in shock, then Nyssa, then finally back to the man himself.

  “Is that…?” he asked hesitantly.

  Nyssa shut the door, almost slamming it, then dragged the bedframe back into place.

  “It is,” she confirmed quietly. “I told you, Master. I would not be denied.”

  “She brought Terras here shortly after nightfall,” Cirilla said. “Nyssa doesn’t think they were seen, but even if they were, I doubt anyone noticed anything amiss. I don’t know how she managed it, but the man was smiling when he arrived.”

  “I made him think I’d betrayed Leo on Lady Orczy’s behalf,” Nyssa supplied. “He thought she was trying to play both sides.”

  “It’s Countess VanOrden now,” Leo said, offhandedly. He took a moment to work through the sudden change in circumstance, then sighed. “But why is he still alive? Isn’t it dangerous keeping him here? What if the servants—?”

  “He’s alive because Nyssa wants him that way,” Cirilla interrupted. “His men killed her anathki . His life belongs to her until she tires of it. And as for the servants… they won’t be a problem. I gave them strict instructions that, no matter what they heard, they were not to open this door under any circumstances. Nyssa has my permission to kill any who violate that rule.”

  Leo nodded thoughtfully. It was not precisely the way he would have handled things, but Cirilla ran a very different sort of household. He would have to find a way to strike a balance between them in the coming weeks.

  A good marriage involved compromise, after all.

  “Very well,” he said. “And Mihal?”

  Nyssa averted her eyes sharply, her hands balling into fists. Cirilla, on the other hand, merely offered him a sad smile.

  “Fayett is looking after him,” she said. “He’s one of my advisors. Since we deal with a great many slaves—elves, trow, and so on—it helps to have a specialist who’s familiar with their customs and practices. Right now, Fayett’s preparing Mihal’s body for burning.”

  “Burning?” Leo exclaimed.

  “It’s our way,” Nyssa said simply. She still did not look at him.

  “I could send them back to you, if you’d like,” Cirilla suggested.

  Leo considered the offer a moment, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Do it here. That way Nyssa can be with him when… when it happens. I’m sure Mihal would have liked that.”

  Nyssa whirled with sudden violence, dragging the bed away from the closet so forcefully it nearly clipped Cirilla. Leo was about to speak up, to reprimand her, when Cirilla hastily shook her head. Grasping his sleeve, she ushered him from the room.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, once the door was securely shut behind them. “That’s not what she needs right now. Give her time to grieve. In a few days—or weeks, maybe—she’ll come back, ready to serve.”

  A low, urgent moan of pain erupted from within the room. Leo shuddered, wishing the door was thicker.

  “Does that sound like grieving to you?” he asked.

  Cirilla shrugged, taking his arm again and leading him away. She, unlike Leo, did not seem at all bothered by Terras’ increasingly desperate cries.

  “We all grieve in different ways,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Leo hadn’t planned to spend the night at Cirilla’s estate. His original intention had been to politely excuse himself, once his duties as a husband were complete, and return home. Unfortunately, much to his satisfaction, he found that his new wife’s talents in the bedroom were every bit the equal of her scheming.

  And so, it was not until early morning that he managed to rise, sated, sore, and operating on far too few hours of sleep. He dressed in darkness, taking care not to disturb Cirilla’s slumber, and quietly crept to the front door. Upon reaching it, however, he found its outside guarded by a pair of men who appeared not at all surprised to see him.

  “Where to, Your Grace?” asked one.

  Leo wanted to argue. It was less than a ten-minute walk to his own estate, one he’d made many times, and there was hardly a soul in Ansiri awake at the moment. And, given that he was now technically master of t
hese men as much as Cirilla, he might have been able to argue his way out of an escort. But for what? A few minutes solitude that he could easily obtain at home?

  “My estate,” he announced, setting off without waiting for a reply. And, as expected, both men made to follow him.

  He’d gone barely half the distance when a half-dozen strangers emerged from an alley and began to surround him. At once, his escorts were at his side, swords drawn. Leo, too, reached for his rapier. He managed it halfway out of its scabbard when recognition stayed his hand.

  “Wait a minute,” he exclaimed, before either of his guards could strike. Gesturing at one of the darkened faces of those surrounding him, he snapped impatiently. “I know you. Your name… you’re one of Davin’s.”

  The thug grinned, nodding slightly.

  “Where is she?” Leo demanded.

  “She’ll be along soon enough, m’lord,” the man answered him. “Hows about you tell your boys to put away their knives ‘fore someone gets stuck?”

  The pair glanced at Leo and he shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not until she gets here.”

  And, with a laugh, Davin did precisely that. Trotting out of the alley, she slowed to a swaggering walk as her men parted to make space for her in their circle. She wore a pair of loose-fitting trousers so billowy Leo almost mistook them for a dress in the gloom. Her hands rested on the hilt of twin daggers, fixed securely to a broad, stylish belt at her waist.

  “Goodness,” she teased. “Good thing I hurried. There’d have been nothing left of you, Your Grace .”

  “Davin, what are you doing here?” he asked, ignoring her banter. He placed a hand on the shoulder of one of his men. “You two can put those away now.”

  “I came to visit a friend,” Davin said. “Unfortunately, the last couple days have been eventful and he’s been hard to reach. And, since it’s better no one knows we spoke….” She shrugged and gestured around. “I had to settle for this late-night liaison.”

  “So what do you want?”

  “Straight to the point as always, eh?” she said, softer. “I was wondering if your previous offer was still available.”