Shireen was very familiar with it.
“I thought I saw someone standing right about there.” She pointed out into the forest. “At first I wasn’t sure what I was seeing, but then they got a little clearer.”
“They? Who?”
“I don’t know. They looked like any other Folk, except with weird clothes. Even in the bad light they stood out. Blue, all over. Bright blue. Except for…”
“What?” Shireen asked.
“Its face. If the rest wasn’t weird enough, its face looked completely white. I blinked, looked around to see if anyone else was seeing it, and when I turned back, it was gone.”
Shireen stared off into the woods herself. She had no doubt that the sentry had seen something, and whatever it was, she was willing to bet it had something to do with what was going on at Glittering Birch.
Chapter 43
Jocasta didn’t even bother with the lamps in the library anymore. When it got dark, she simply sat in the chair behind the desk, gazing into the gloom. Florian probably sat here at one time, as well. Ruling over House Whispering Pines with a steady hand and a calm mind. Oh, he faltered, according to some, after he thought Celia died, but over the course of his long life, he acquitted himself with honor.
She didn’t know how he had done it. It was maddening. There were enemies everywhere, whispering, plotting, planning her downfall. Even those she believed were friends, like Childress, turned against her. It wasn’t fair. And really, he gave her no choice. He was going to have her removed and take the House back to what it once was. A mere extension of the will of the two other Great Houses, Towering Oaks and Glittering Birch.
He needed to go, so she did what was necessary.
And she definitely did not see him over there, standing near one of the shelves, watching her with his accusing eyes. How could she? It was dark in the room. Dark enough that she couldn’t see his eyes, boring into her.
She turned away. Let him stand there all night. The glass she took a sip of wine from was the same one that she had handed him. Hah. That will show him.
And Darius. Her trusted aide. Where was he?
Darius was gone a lot, lately. Jocasta hadn’t sent him on any errands, not since telling him to go spy on Towering Oaks. Yet he wasn’t here. She summoned him earlier and he was nowhere to be found.
Darius was working for someone else. Jocasta wasn’t stupid, and she’d heard all the stories of what happened when the Soul Gaunts attacked. The fact that they were brought here by a secret house, under the control of Jamshir.
A secret house. One that moved behind the scenes and was unknown to any others. They made what Whispering Pines did seem childish by comparison. Maybe Childress had been working for them. She glanced at the darker shape near the bookcase. The one she knew was just a large urn on a delicate table. It wasn’t a stooped, elderly body, watching her and laughing at her failures. It was not that.
Childress was gone, but Darius was still here. Darius, who, she was fairly certain, was working for the secret house.
She took another sip of wine, sure that she could taste a hint of bitterness. Maybe the poison wasn’t as tasteless as she’d thought.
She was lifting the glass to her lips again when the door opened and light flooded in.
“Are you sleeping in here? Why is it so dark?”
There was the rasp of a match and one of the lamps flared to life.
“What are you doing?” Darius asked, moving to light another one.
“Thinking,” Jocasta answered.
She watched him, moving easily, not looking over at her. So at home, so confident in his place.
“That sounds ominous.” Darius finished lighting the lamps and took a seat across the desk from her. He reached for the wine and poured himself a glass.
The glass he chose from the tray was clean. It had always been clean and never held any of the poison.
At least, not yet.
“Where have you been?” Jocasta kept her tone conversational.
“Out and about. Seeing what was occurring in the Greenweald and how it could benefit our House.”
“I didn’t order you to do that.”
Darius laughed and took a healthy swig. If Jocasta had poisoned his wine, he would be choking right now, his face turning purple and swelling.
“No, I guess you didn’t. But I was doing what you pay me for. Gathering information. Would you like to hear it?”
She took another sip of her wine. “No.”
“No?” Darius blinked, his head jerking in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I mean no. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I don’t want to hear what you have to say…ever.”
Darius set his glass down on the desk.
“Lady Jocasta, I’m afraid I don’t understand—”
“You can stop the pretense. I know who you are. Or at least who you really work for.”
“I work for you, my Lady,” he replied.
“Get out, Darius. Go back to your secret house. And if I see you again, my knife will be in your belly before you’ll even know I’ve pulled it.”
“Secret house? What are you talking about? I know nothing of any….”
He trailed off as she casually lifted her dagger from her belt. Another word and poison wouldn’t be necessary.
“I see,” Darius whispered.
He rose and left the room, not turning back once.
That alone was enough to convince her that she was right.
♦ ♦ ♦
Even in daylight, walking the grounds of Whispering Pines, she had a
