Chapter 33
All dead. Darius wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Part of him wanted to laugh. He only wished he was here to see it happen. But a larger part of him was desperately seeking a way out of this mess. The end result of Jocasta’s gambit resulted in her actually consolidating her power. Darius had been counting on playing Childress against her, keeping things unstable until Celia came back and he could really throw the House into chaos.
Although, if you asked him why it was that he was supposed to do that, he had no idea. It was Malachi’s orders. Keep Whispering Pines in a state of flux, don’t allow them to settle back into their comfortable role as spymasters.
He rubbed the half-healed wound on his chest. No, he definitely wanted to stay on Malachi’s good side.
This would take some thinking about. Jocasta wanted him to return to Towering Oaks, to continue pursuing Willow. She had laughed when he told her of his flirtations with the healer, then grew quiet.
“We can use that,” she mused.
“I’m sorry?”
“Think about it. You seduce her and then you’re in a position to shatter her, or even to bring her here. Either way, it diminishes her usefulness to Towering Oaks.”
“But you know healers don’t work for one House. She doesn’t belong to Towering Oaks.”
“Pfft. You’re not that naïve, are you? Of course, she belongs to them. She just doesn’t want to admit it. Regardless, I want you back there.”
And so here he was. House Whispering Pines more stable than any time since Florian’s death and he sent away. Back to where he couldn’t influence events.
He frowned, remembering his attempt to do just that. There was something about Jocasta, almost like a wall of iron, that prevented him from getting inside her mind and twisting her. While he wasn’t as good as his former tutor, the one who turned Florian’s cousin, magic of the mind was still his gift. He should have been able to get through to her.
It was maddening that he couldn’t.
He stalked away from the compound, waving off the offer of accompaniment from the guards, and into the forest. Once out of sight, he called up a portal and returned to his own House.
Malachi might not be pleased with his news, but better to tell him face to face and seek assistance than try to hide. If he wasn’t so practiced in it himself, he almost would have said he was compelled to return.
♦ ♦ ♦
“You’re telling me that while you were busy doing something that you weren’t assigned to, you allowed Jocasta to solidify her position? Do I have that right?”
Malachi was angry. Darius could see it in his eyes and in the way that he held himself.
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
There was nothing more he could do. He could either face the music now or later, and it was bound to be less painful if he came clean himself. Wasn’t it?
“And now you’ve been removed from Whispering Pines yet again. It seems that Jocasta doesn’t have much use for her ‘aide’.”
“I don’t believe it’s so much that, as it is that she trusts me to do in Towering Oaks exactly what you want me to do in her House.”
Malachi considered him for a moment.
“You have a point. Perhaps there’s a way to turn this to our advantage.”
“I do have an idea, if I may.”
Malachi indicated that he could proceed.
“The man I brought here with me last time. Samuel. Let me work on him. I think I can turn him, plant him in Towering Oaks.”
“You didn’t do such a great job the last time I allowed that. Bragnold is a mindless idiot now. It works well enough with Jamshir, but Shireen is a different story. She’ll notice, and question, changes to her aide.”
“I’m aware that I flubbed the job with Bragnold, but Syrus taught me much more after that. I watched what he did in the Rustling Elm tree with Florian’s cousin. I can be more subtle now.”
He thought the use of the phrase from their House name clever. Malachi ignored it.
“And if you fail?”
“I won’t.”
“See that you don’t.” Malachi let the threat linger.
♦ ♦ ♦
The cell was dark. Not pitch black the way the Soul Gaunts liked it, but dark enough to sap a person’s will. Sitting in it, day after day, with nothing to do and no one to talk to was a pretty standard way to soften someone up.
“Samuel,” Darius said gently, approaching the bars.
Within, something stirred but there was no answer.
“Samuel, it’s me. Darius. I’m coming in.”
The bars held an old enchantment, laid down by some Subtle Hemlock adept of centuries past. All he needed to do was walk forward and he’d pass through them. When he was done, he’d leave the same way. As long as he wasn’t the one imprisoned, he had free passage.
Samuel, on the other hand, could throw himself against them from now until doomsday and they’d remain as solid as any ordinary cell bars.
The aide for Towering Oaks was lying in the back of the cell, curled up into a ball and facing the wall. His clothes were dirty and there was a foul smell coming from the hole in one corner. Hard to believe the man had only been here for a couple of days.
“Samuel, come on. Get up. We need to talk.”
Finally, the man turned his head. His eyes went wide when he saw Darius.
“You! You did this?”
“No! Of course not! I found you, that’s all. Do you know where you are?”
“No. The last thing I remember was looking at birds, then I woke up here. I haven’t seen anyone since or had anything to eat.”
Darius wasn’t
