was. Almost felt like hitting a rock.
“You lucky bastard. Wouldn’t blame you for fucking on a dead man’s bed when the woman is that fine.”
Haern looked too embarrassed to respond, which amused Ulrich all the more. He was a handsome man, and with startling blue eyes. Seducing Zusa away from him for a tryst would be that much more of a challenge. Much as he liked the man, he decided he might have to use a bit of poison to ensure Zusa was his at least once before they left for Veldaren.
“Do you know what happened here?” Haern asked, stepping into the bedroom. Ulrich followed, also curious to see.
“Only rumors. You’d think a hundred men hacked them all to death, if you believed the rabble. I think it was just one man, though, a fool the commoners have begun calling the Wraith. He slaughtered guards left and right, butchered Taras and Julie, then vanished in a puff of smoke.”
“Smoke?” Haern whispered. “I see.”
The room had a clean yet barren feel to it. The sheets had been stripped from the bed and not replaced. The carpet was so immaculate it had to be new. The windows appeared new as well. Even the walls glistened with fresh paint, the room still stinking from the application. Haern looked about, then pointed upward.
“Damn,” Ulrich said, finally spotting it.
They’d changed the sheets, the floors, and the walls, but missed a faint spray of blood across the ceiling.
“This was no assassination,” Haern said, his voice soft. “I doubt he cared one way or the other about the couple. This was a message, and he made sure it carried far.”
Something about the way he spoke, the way he carried himself, gave Ulrich a sense of unease. For the first time, he realized the man had a pair of sabers sheathed at his belt.
“Consider me curious. What makes you think someone would cut off a person’s head, rip his entrails from his stomach, and fling his blood about like an insane painter, yet
Haern walked over to the window, testing its lock.
“He let the baby live. I saw Madelyn holding her.”
Ulrich’s eyes narrowed at such perception.
“What is your relation to Alyssa again?”
Haern looked back.
“Second cousin.”
“Who is your father?”
“Is this a test?”
Ulrich slowly reached for his dagger.
“That’s a poor answer.”
Haern turned where he stood, and something odd came over him. His face darkened, and a hard edge entered those blue eyes. His stance shifted slightly, the muscles in his body relaxed yet at ready. While still at his sides, his hands brushed the hilts of his sabers, clearly ready to draw.
“I am a guest in the Keenan family’s mansion,” Haern said. “I was not aware I had to explain myself to you.”
Ulrich suddenly felt nervous, his every action scrutinized with deadly intensity. With a startling clarity, he realized he felt same as he did when in the presence of the Wraith.
“Forgive me for any insult,” Ulrich said, letting go of his dagger. “Just after what happened, we’re all a little nervous of assassins.”
Haern’s eyes seemed to sparkle at that.
“I don’t fear assassins,” he said. “Assassins fear me.”
“I can imagine.”
Haern left the room, passing a mere foot in front of Ulrich. For the briefest moment he thought to draw his dagger and stab for the man’s back, but he let the impulse pass. Such a confident display was not made carelessly. This Haern had looked him over, and dismissed him as a threat. The thought burned like fire in his gut. Smoothing out his shirt, he returned to the main parlor of the mansion to await his brother, enduring the many insulting glares he received from the serving staff.
After what felt like forever, the first of many guests returned. Ulrich remained seated, standing only when Stern finally showed.
“Something wrong?” he asked, seeing his brother’s obvious displeasure.
“We need to go,” Ulrich said.
“Why?”
“Because not too long ago, William’s head was cut from his shoulders and tossed into the ocean.”
Stern looked like he’d been slapped, and a bit of anger cut through his grief.
“Who would dare do such a…” He stopped, and then he shook his head, having read Ulrich all too well. “Him, isn’t it? That Wraith? What have we done to earn his wrath?”
“Lower your voice,” Ulrich said, grabbing his brother by the arm and leading him to the exit. “And I don’t know. Call a meeting of the Merchant Lords, and set it for tomorrow. We’ll let the Amours have a day to prepare their funeral and appoint one of William’s sons in charge.”
“And what is it you hurry off to do?”
“None of your concern.”
The Keenans were waiting by the door, with Madelyn holding the newborn child just as Haern had said. The two brothers said their goodbyes, then left. They split, each heading for their homes. Trusting Stern to spread the word (assuming the other Merchant Lords didn’t know already), Ulrich traveled through his spacious, but empty, home to his private room. No kids, no wife, no family. Just as Ulrich preferred. Once he’d stripped himself of his uncomfortable clothes and locked the door, he pulled out the pouch from his discarded shirt. But first, he covered up the large glass window. Sunlight always hurt his eyes afterward.
Tossing an entire leaf in his mouth, he bit down and then breathed deep. As his head grew light, and his blood pounded through his veins, he thought of what Zusa might look like naked. Amid the euphoria, he felt a certainty overcome him, one that lasted throughout the next two hours. No matter the cost, he would have her, and he’d make damn sure that arrogant prick Haern knew it. But mostly he thought of Zusa, of taking her against her will, until at last the Violet faded, and he fell asleep with his seed spilled across his hand.
4
Alyssa played the kind supporter as the proceedings ended, and the guests trickled out one by one. She endured a hundred greetings, and treated every one as if they were with a long-lost friend.
“Will you be all right?” Zusa asked her when she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just…all this makes me miss Nathanial for some reason.”
“We wallow in the sorrow of others. Of course you’d fear your own loss.”
“Doesn’t mean I like it, nor wish to think of it.”
“Then drink,” Zusa said, handing her a glass. “Wine is excellent for forgetting.”
Alyssa chuckled.
“At least there is that,” she said, hoping the burn of it going down her throat would banish her tiredness. As she accepted a second, one of Laurie’s servants came to inform her that her room was prepared.
“What of Zusa and Haern?’ she asked.
“They have a room of their own, though it is near the back with the servants. I hope there is no offense.”
“That will be fine,” Zusa said. “I only hope we do not keep the servants awake at night.”
The servant, a young, clean-shaven man, blushed and hurried away without a word.
“This is amusing,” Zusa said, glancing at her own cleavage. “I should show my body more often. It makes the men so much more pliable and stupid.”
