Darius was a man who had seeped deep into her heart. He had become her heart.
She now realized why she had been so desperate to stay in the Now.
Larkyra was terrified of what would happen Next.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Castle Island was alive with carriages rumbling through the gate, guests spilling into Lachlan’s infamously closed-off estate to ooh and aah and whisper to one another as servants in their new well-sewn frocks and liveries—an expense eventually paid for by Larkyra’s father after he’d insisted it was an engagement gift—showed them through the halls to the expansive ballroom. It had taken every candle and flower in town, as well as in the neighboring villages, to fill the dark castle with a bit of warmth, light, and cheer, but as the small orchestra played away, the continuous storm outside could almost be forgotten. Tonight, one could pretend this was a normal home of a blessedly rich family.
Another flawless mask in place.
Standing off to the side of the ballroom’s entryway, Larkyra enjoyed a small break from greeting curious guests, her sisters and Zimri shielding her from their attention. She wore an immaculate teal gown that perfectly matched her eyes and complemented her pale hair and skin. Even without the lost gods’ gifts, Mrs. Everett must have had magic in her fingers to finish it for Larkyra in time, especially with such detail. Small pearls were sewn into the lace covering her corseted bodice and capped sleeves, while swatches of ivory silk decorated edges and swirled around the bottom of her skirts. Despite the events that were to unfold tonight, Larkyra felt radiant in the dress, indeed a bride-to-be, especially when she caught the glimmer of longing in Niya’s eyes as she’d gazed at the beadwork. Larkyra resolved to talk to Mrs. Everett about an early birthday present for her redheaded sister.
“It is unlike Father to be late,” said Arabessa, eyeing the sea of guests behind them.
“He had something to look into before coming.” Zimri tugged at a cuff link, looking handsomer than ever in his black tux, his dark skin luminous in the soft light.
More than one fan-fluttering and curious-eyed guest inched nearer, but after a narrowed glare from Arabessa, they gave small squeaks and turned away.
Larkyra bit back a grin as she met Niya’s rolling eyes.
“But what could be more important than tonight?” Arabessa frowned.
“Perhaps we can ask him,” suggested Niya. “He’s just arrived over there.”
The Count of Raveet, of the second house of Jabari, strode through the crowd, stopping only once to accept a glass of punch from a server bearing a tray. More than one guest skirted out of his way before turning to mumble something to a nearby companion. Dolion Bassette always knew how to enter a room, which was merely to walk into one. His size, amber hair and beard, and impressive dress did the rest.
It was a feat not to stare at the man.
“Daughters.” Dolion smiled at the three girls as he approached, placing a kiss on each of their heads. “D’Enieu.” He shook Zimri’s hand. “You all look splendid.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Larkyra and her sisters in unison; the tension riding along Larkyra’s shoulders eased with his appearance.
“A good attendance.” He ran his gaze over the room.
“Despite the storm,” began Larkyra, “barely any could decline a peek at such a mysterious castle.”
“Indeed.”
“Well?” Niya crossed her arms. “What did you need to see to before coming here?”
Dolion glanced at his right-hand man, who merely shrugged. “Only answers stop these curious minds,” said Zimri.
“Indeed,” said Dolion, arching a brow as he took in his daughters. “A development has arisen in regard to who might be our leaker.”
“Who?” gasped Niya, drawing the eyes of nearby guests.
Arabessa shushed her.
“Sorry.” Niya lowered her voice.
Dolion scratched his beard, holding them each in suspense, well, besides Zimri, who seemed more concerned with the effect of the man’s next words. “It is not proved, just rumored.”
“But a well-founded rumor,” added Zimri.
“Mmm.” Dolion nodded. “The later actions lead me to believe in his guilt.”
“Father, please.” Larkyra drew the man’s attention with a tug at his sleeve. “Elaborate.”
“As you girls know, in addition to tracking the duke on his outings, we’ve also had ears in every establishment in the kingdom since the leak first was found. Dens, trading ports, betting halls, alley walls—”
“We get it,” interrupted Niya. “Everywhere.”
“Well,” said Dolion, “we finally got something based on the description you gave us, Larkyra, of the casings. We were able to track it to the den Silver Dreams. They sell their larger orders in orbed casings like the ones you found.” He nodded at Larkyra. “It would have ended there, however, for we did not find the den master involved in any illegal dealings with their customers. But then we noticed a pattern.”
The girls leaned in.
“Lord Ezra.”
Larkyra’s jaw dropped. “Alōs Ezra?”
“The very one.” Dolion looked far less than pleased.
“But . . .” Niya blinked, her mouth working open and closed. “But . . . how?”
“One of his crew,” explained Zimri, “was seen entering and exiting the establishment on the regular. But he never indulged in the drug, only in heavy cups of whiskey afterward. I followed him to one of his favorite spirit halls, where I overheard him babbling about their captain making them all richer. He claimed that the captain had tasked him with arranging a series of bulk purchases from Silver Dreams—all completely legal, of course. It’s what they did with the phorria cases after that is suspect. According to him, barrels of siphoned magic fetch a prettier price outside the kingdom than in. He was brought in for further questioning.”
“And did you find this to be true?” asked Arabessa. “It could merely be a disgruntled drunk pirate spreading rumors about his master. We all know Lord Ezra to be a hard sort of captain, but even a rogue such as he knows the severity of breaking rules set by the kingdom.”
“Plus,” added Larkyra, “I’ve never known his crew to be so loose lipped about their business.”
“That’s because those that are don’t remain his crew for long.” Dolion swirled his glass. “They have a way of finding their way to the Fade quicker than they can utter their next word.”
“Then how does this man live?”
“He doesn’t,” said Dolion, sniffing his drink.
“He doesn’t?” Zimri’s astonished gaze fell on their father.
“No.” Dolion tipped his glass questioningly to the group, eyes asking, Has the elixir been added?
“It hasn’t happened yet,” Larkyra answered his silent question.
Dolion nodded before taking a sip. “Which is what made me late.”
“What happened?” asked Larkyra.
“The pirate was found dead in his holding cell.”
“By his own hand?”
“His cut-out tongue and slit throat would say otherwise.”
“By the Obasi Sea,” a nearby guest spluttered as he overheard their father’s last sentence.
“It is an eavesdropper’s curse to hear wicked things,” said Arabessa to the man.
“Well, I have never!”
“Was that necessary, my melody?” their father asked as the guest scurried to the other side of the room.
“Probably not,” she said. “But fun things hardly are.”
“How could he have been murdered?” asked Larkyra quietly, returning their conversation to the matter at hand. “Those prisons are impenetrable.”
“You three got in.”
“Yes, well, we are special,” declared Larkyra.
“A bit too special,” muttered Zimri.
“You could be special as well,” explained Arabessa. “If you weren’t so very everyday.”
“How kind.” He
laid narrow eyes on her.
“So what is to be done?” Larkyra looked at her father. “Will you question Lord Ezra?”
“I would, if he hadn’t vanished.”
“What do you mean, vanished?” asked Niya.
“Exactly as it is defined. He seems to have disappeared.”
“That’s impossible,” said Niya. “The king can find anyone.”
Their father flashed a grin at the compliment. “Yes, which makes Alōs’s actions that much more impressive.”
“And guilty,” added Zimri.
Niya frowned. “And what is the price if these allegations are true?”
Dolion stared into his punch, twirling the stem. “Banishment, if not death.”
The group fell quiet, the party swirling around them, while they digested the news. Larkyra watched Niya, who was a dazzling sight in her peach gown, as her gaze went out of focus, an upward curve to her lips.
“And the plans for this party?” asked Larkyra, breaking their silence.
“To continue.” Her father caught her gaze. “We agreed to help, and we shall.”
The knot in Larkyra’s stomach that had formed throughout their conversation eased slightly with his answer.
“There is my bride-to-be.” The duke’s cool voice ran over Larkyra’s bare neck. “I’ve been looking all over for you. And I see I have the honor of finding you with the rest of your lovely family. Count Bassette, I hope you are well this evening.” Hayzar inclined his head to her father, his bright-teal long-tailed suit glowing in the light.
“I am, Your Grace.” Dolion gave a nod. “I am excited to be here, to celebrate happier days to come.”
Well-chosen words, thought Larkyra.
“My union with your daughter will indeed bring joy in the future, especially with an established heir or two”—he winked at Larkyra, soured magic oozing from his toothy grin—“running around these halls soon.”
“Indeed,” seemed the only response Dolion could muster.
Larkyra caught sight of Darius over Arabessa’s shoulder, and her skin ran hot as she remembered the last time he’d been near.
The night before flashed through her mind. The feel of Darius’s smooth skin against hers, the way his strong hands had gripped her waist.
Larkyra’s cheeks burned and she was unable to keep back a smile, which she instantly regretted when the duke followed the direction of her attention. A sour pucker formed on his lips.
“Boy!” he bellowed, drawing stares from guests, who paused their conversations when they saw it was the master of the party. “Boy,” Hayzar called again. “Do not be a shy rodent. Come here and say hello to your future in-laws.”
Darius’s gaze swam with embarrassment, but he held his chin up and walked toward them. He was dashing in his black long-tailed tux, his red hair swept back from his face. His eyes landed on Larkyra’s, and she was struck with their intensity, before he turned to greet her family.
“I am a lucky man, am I not, son?” The duke slapped Darius a little too hard on the back. “To have such a beautiful bride.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, come now. You did not even look at her. Look.” He gestured to Larkyra. “Isn’t she radiant?”
Darius’s green eyes slid to her again, and Larkyra’s heart pumped faster when she found they had warmed, softened as he took her in. “She is, Your Grace.”
The duke grinned, a jackal’s smile. “I hope you’re not jealous of your old man for catching such a pretty bird,” he pressed on. “Just look around you. Perhaps you can pick one of the other beautiful sisters to wed.”
By the lost gods. Larkyra held back a curl of her lips. Is he in his cups? Hayzar was a wicked man, to be sure, but she had never known him to be so outright brazen in public before. His phorria high didn’t seem to be enough of a vice for him this evening.
“If I knew we were to be auctioned off tonight,” replied Niya coolly, “I would have sewn a number to each of our bustles.”
“What a splendid idea that would have been,” chuckled the duke as Dolion placed a hand on his back, drawing his glassy gaze away.
“Your Grace, let us leave the youth to talk. I would love a short tour of your study. We men pride ourselves on the private dens we keep, do we not?”
With the attentions of such an established man, Hayzar’s expression changed to one of utter delight. “Of course, Count,” he said before turning to pick up Larkyra’s hand. He kissed it, covering her white glove in goop. Larkyra’s responding smile was more than pained. “When we return,” began Hayzar, “perhaps we can start the party with this performance you and your sisters promised, mmm? If I had known you could sing, I would have asked for your hand much sooner.”
“You are too kind,” she replied with a tight grin.
As their father left with the duke, he gave their group a retreating glance that said, Do what you must.
“I have no idea how you could have stomached that man for so long,” said Niya with a sneer.
“It was not without . . . difficulty.”
“Give your glove here.” Arabessa reached for the ruined thing on Larkyra’s hand. “Even though only we can see it, this cannot be worn. It stinks. In fact, give me both—”
“I cannot.” Larkyra stopped her eldest sister. “My finger.”
“By the stars and sea, who cares about that anymore? Your hands are beautiful.”
“I know, but—”
“Here.” Niya ripped off her own gloves. “Take mine. No point in being careless now.”
“Speaking of . . .” Darius interrupted the girls. “We have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?” asked Niya.
“The elixir for the guests.” Darius fervently glanced around. “It’s gone.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Darius watched the group’s collective blank expressions at his words, words that felt like acid passing his lips.
“What do you mean, it’s gone?” repeated Niya. “We gave it to you this morning.”
“Yes, and I placed it safely within my rooms.”
“Apparently not safely enough.”
“Darius.” Larkyra drew his attention to her. “Are you sure it’s not there?”
He nodded, dreading the disappointment that would soon fill her gaze, wishing they were back in her bedchambers, back in that moment when everything had been perfect. “I went to instruct the staff, as planned, that the duke insisted he only drink his best stored brandy, not the punch being served to the guests nor the champagne for the toast before your performance.”
“Then what happened?” asked Larkyra.
“I returned to my rooms to dress. And once I was alone, I went to the loose stone by the fireplace to retrieve it, but the space was empty.”
“Did anyone see you place it there?” asked Zimri.
“Not that I saw, but . . .” Darius drew his brows together.
“But what?”
“This is Castle Island. There are invisible eyes everywhere.”
“That hardly helps matters.” Arabessa frowned. “Let us spread out and search. We have little time to stand here discussing this further. It will not appear by itself.”
As they exited the ballroom, Darius ignored the outstretched hands of guests wishing to greet him. Despite the social drama it would later cause, he knew they had more important fish to catch and cook.
Turning into a quieter hall, the gallery wing where paintings of his ancestors stared down, they hurried along its corridor.
“Where should we split off to?” asked Arabessa.
“Surely we do not have to look everywhere,” pouted Niya. “That would take a week, at least.”
“More,” muttered Larkyra.
“I can return to search my wing,” said Darius. “The rest of you can head to the servants’ quarters. Perhaps someone thought it a special spirit and stole it.”
“Wait—” Larkyra stopped Darius’s retreat with a hand to his arm. “The servants.”
“What about them?”
“Isn’t Boland your valet?”
“He is?” Darius blinked, confused.
“The snooty butler?” asked Niya.
“He doubles as my—”
“Was he there when you instructed the staff?” Larkyra cut him off.
“I cannot be positive, but—”
“What about before you dressed? Could he have seen you with it in your rooms?”
“He helped me dress, yes, but I do not think Boland would have—”
“Where would he be presently?”
“I have no idea.”
“We must find him at once.” Larkyra began to walk quickly.
“Why?” asked Darius.
“A hunch.”
“Oh, well, if it’s a hunch,” began Niya, “let us put all our money on it now.”
“I think you have a gambling problem, dear,” said Arabessa as they turned a corner into another hall, stone carvings of beasts lining the walls.
Darius had always hated this part of the house, but as they hurried past, he noticed each snarling creature either held a bouquet between its claws or wore a woven floral wreath upon its head.
It transformed the terrifying scene into one wholly foolish, and despite their predicament, he found himself inwardly smiling, having no doubt that this was the work of the blonde woman beside him.
“Wait.” Larkyra pointed. “I think that’s him there.”
A thin form in starched black with that telltale hooked nose came into view at the end of the hall, entering one of their smaller libraries.
“Quickly now.” Larkyra set off at a run.
“Doesn’t she know we’re in corsets?” huffed Niya behind them.
“Father had us all train in corsets.” Arabessa kept pace. “This should be no different than sprinting in trousers.”
“Should be,” panted Niya, “is a . . . very . . . different . . . concept . . . than . . . is.”
“Mr. Boland!” Larkyra called as they entered the library, spotting the man on the other side of the low-lit room.
While the estate housed many impressive libraries, the current one was modest, with only two floors of books. Darius had been told it had been the original collection before it had expanded beyond its capacity. Hardly a soul entered this one, but it was always kept clean and tidy, reading tables at the ready, along with some of the best brandy on a cart by the corner window.
Song of the Forever Rains Page 34