“So what brings you here?” Ingram asked as she drank. She caught him glancing down the front of her corset, and she made sure to sip even slower. The thought of him touching her was repulsive, but given the immense amount of land he owned, as well as controlling all of Angelport, there might be enough benefits for her to close her eyes and endure.
“I come because of Alyssa, of course.”
Ingram sighed.
“I take it now is when you demand her release, given how she’s a member of your Trifect.”
“Quite the opposite. I’ve come to make sure you have the courage to punish her accordingly for her crimes. Even we of the Trifect are not above the King’s Law.”
Ingram raised an eyebrow.
“Funny how your husband never shared the same opinion whenever Taras got into a scrap.”
The mention of her son’s name stabbed her heart like a dagger, and she discretely tugged the top of her corset higher.
“I am not Laurie, and I would be thankful if you did not mention either of their names. The wounds are much too deep.”
The lord bowed, and he quickly apologized.
“At times I forget to tame my tongue. Please, forgive me. As for Alyssa, things are far from simple. I have little proof of any actual crime, other than fairly damning testimony from Laryssa. Of course, the word of an elf is worthless in any court, no matter how trustworthy they pretend to be. And of course, there’s the nonsense with the commoners…”
Madelyn knew what he was talking about, and the very thought sickened her. Because the people believed Alyssa responsible for the attack on Laryssa, they hailed her as a hero, the first of their nobles and leaders to take decisive action against the elves slaughtering their kin at the forests’ edges. The situation disgusted her to no end.
“So will you hand her over to the elves?”
Ingram went to his bar, waved away the servant, and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one long shot.
“No,” he said, slamming the cup down. “I can’t.”
“Why? I can assure you, no one in the Trifect will bear you ill will, not even Alyssa’s successor…”
To her surprise, Ingram broke out into laughter.
“You? You think I’m worried about you? Look out the window, Madelyn, and see the remains of the fires those mobs set the past few nights. Nearly burned half my city to the ground, and killed seventeen of my guard. And now they’ve branded Alyssa a hero. Every one of the damn Merchant Lords is telling anyone who’ll listen, that it’s them who should be in charge, and that they’d never, ever think of surrendering Alyssa for trial and execution. I hand Alyssa over, I’ll have mobs surrounding my estate, ready to burn me alive.”
He downed a second glass.
“Gods damn it, how did this happen? You know what I had to do yesterday? I had to beg and grovel like a damn peasant to convince that ambassador of theirs I meant no ill will. And he claims he’s one of the few that
Madelyn did her best to smile. The opening she’d hoped for was right before her, and she slid closer and poured him a third glass.
“So it’s the merchants stirring up trouble?”
Ingram shrugged.
“It seems everyone is, but they’ve been particularly unhelpful. If I make any move against them now, Angelport suffers. We live and die by their boats, and the gods help me if the elves actually put us under siege. I can’t imagine how badly the merchants would fuck us over if we had to rely on them for food and supplies, pardon my language.”
When he didn’t drink, she took the glass from him and downed it herself. It burned, and her eyes watered, but she forced herself to show no sign. She wanted him to know she could be just as tough as any man, especially when it came to what she was about to propose.
“The merchants have been a thorn in my side for as long as they’ve been one in yours,” she said. “My husband failed to deal with them properly, but I won’t. Give me the word, and I will take my army of mercenaries and storm their homes, their docks, their warehouses. Let me crush them beneath my heel like the insects they are. They’re the lowest of the lowbloods, sons of whores and sailors. They’ve played at being lords for far too long. Let me show them what fate awaits those who dare give orders to their betters.”
She put her hand on his, and she could sense the rapid increase of his breathing.
“There would be chaos for months,” he said, “trying to get all the boat captains in line, trade agreements remade…”
“The city is already in chaos, and besides, if you’re going to create something new, you must spill a little blood, and endure a little pain. That’s a lesson we women learn early.”
She could tell he was weakening. Just a little more, and she’d have the bloodbath she craved. Alyssa had dared call her husband a failure, and worse, she’d been right. Madelyn would not have that same failure hanging over her head for the rest of her life. No, she’d excise it in a single night of slaughter, the one thing she knew Torgar could do better than anyone.
“I have over five hundred men at my disposal,” she said, lowering her voice. “If I fail, you can denounce me in public, threaten me for a bit, and in return I’ll hand over a few of my mercenaries for you to hang. If I succeed, though…”
She thought of what Torgar had said, and she knew Ingram had to be hearing the same rumors. Perhaps she could use that.
“If I succeed, you’ll save this city from the hundreds of elves that have already infiltrated your walls.”
He twitched as if she’d cut him with her fingernails.
“How do you know?” he asked.
“Only rumors,” she said. “But sometimes stories turn out to be true. Give me permission. End this now.”
Ingram walked to the window, and he stared at his city. She calmly waited, her hands crossed behind her back.
“Do it,” he said. “But know you alone will bear the consequences. You’ll receive no help from me.”
“Thank you,” she said, curtseying. He waved her away, and the servant at the door came to escort her back to Torgar.
“How’d it go?” he asked her.
“Prepare all but a handful of the house guards,” she told him as she hurried toward the street. “Ingram’s given me the freedom to deal with the Merchant Lords as I wish. I hope you haven’t drunk away what little skill you used to have.”
Torgar flashed her a grin.
“A bunch of fat merchants waiting for a butcher? Madelyn, if you think I can’t handle them, you sorely insult me.”
Ulrich lay naked from the waist up, eyes closed so he might better enjoy the sensations. In his left hand he held what little Violet he had left, made all the more frustrating since he’d had to steal it from his brother. The elves had abandoned all pretense of civility. Every single day brought new reports of casualties. So far the human camps hadn’t struck back, but it’d only be a matter of time before they brought out the torches. Ulrich wondered if Violet would grow in the ashes of the forest. If so, perhaps they could change their tactics…
He took out his last leaf, hardly the size of his thumb. He crushed it between his fingers, and on a whim, pressed it to the bottom of his nose. It was the aroma that did it, he knew, when they crushed the leaf between their teeth. With so little, he didn’t expect much, but it hit him with twice the strength such a small amount should have. He snorted out of instinct, and suddenly his whole body was alive with sensations. He rode it like a wave, time lacking any meaning. As he felt it ebb, a realization hit so strong he rolled off the bed.
Breathing it in through the nose increased the Violet’s power tremendously. They didn’t need even a fifth of what they’d thought necessary to flood Dezrel with the plant.
“Stern!” he cried out, thoroughly excited to tell him. For some reason he thought his brother was standing in
