“No.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “You can’t go.”
“What are you talking about? Of course, I’m going. You think I’m going to let you walk into Jamshir’s place by yourself? After what he’s done? And what you told me about it?”
“You have to. I need you here. I can barely make myself care enough to know that Towering Oaks needs a strong leader and that’s you.”
“You’re crazy. No one views me that way. I’m Solomon’s friend and your mate, in that order, to most people.”
“Then prove them wrong. Show them who you are and lead the House until Solomon gets back. Or until I return.”
He didn’t like it, that was plain to see. But Orlando had always been the level-headed, practical one, and even though he may not have liked it, he saw the necessity. All he needed was one more little push.
“Besides,” she said. “I can’t risk the same thing happening to you. It could be already, from being near me. If you go to Glittering Birch, you’ll be infected by whatever this is for sure. I need you whole, so that when it’s time, you can help me.”
That did it. She saw the defiance crumble and acceptance take its place.
If she wasn’t here, under the trees of the Greenweald, she didn’t think she would have cared at all about how he felt, or what the outcome was. Of anything, really.
“I have to go.” She shook her reins and moved off, leaving him where he was.
It took an effort of will to turn around and wave to him. It wasn’t that it was hard. It just didn’t seem important.
Chapter 48
“Hopefully, it will be enough.” Darius sighed and sat back against the rough wall of Samuel’s cell. The Towering Oaks aide was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He slept at Darius’s command, and when awake obeyed his suggestions without knowing that he was under any sort of compulsion.
It was finer, dare he say more subtle, work than any Darius had ever done in the past. It made Samuel the perfect spy for them, suitable to be left in place even when and if Solomon returned as Head of House Towering Oaks.
After Jocasta drove him away, Darius had returned here first, working with Samuel for the past full day without rest. Malachi had expressed his doubts that Darius was up to the task, so he needed to show him that he could do it. And now, he needed to add an extra incentive to stop Malachi from punishing him for failing at Whispering Pines.
House Subtle Hemlock had never taken failure lightly, and Malachi took it to whole new levels.
Well, there was nothing for it but to go face the music. He’d lead with the news of Samuel’s conversion, and then when Malachi was well-pleased, he’d let drop that he was no longer welcome at House Whispering Pines.
With a sigh of fatigue, he got to his feet and passed through the bars.
Malachi was in his office, in the upper, brightly lit, parts of the House. He was standing at the bank of windows, staring at the mountain peaks when Darius entered.
“You have something to tell me?” Darius hadn’t been announced, or made any noise himself, yet Malachi still knew that someone was there, and who it was.
“Yes, good news.”
Malachi turned, his eyebrow raised. He kept his eyes on Darius as he took a seat behind his desk and leaned back. Darius felt a twinge in his chest, where the wound Malachi gave him had healed.
“And that is?” the Head of House Subtle Hemlock asked.
“I’ve finished with Samuel. He’s perfect. He will listen to my commands, believing they are only friendly suggestions, and obey them, thinking all the while he’s doing it of his own free will. He’ll report back to me when I command and remember none of it. In short, he’s the perfect plant, with no fear of even Solomon recognizing it when he returns.”
He took a seat without waiting for Malachi to indicate he could. Better to project confidence.
“I see. Well, that is nice work.”
Malachi’s voice was quiet. The twinge that Darius felt in his chest grew stronger, bordering on pain. He shifted in his chair, feeling that something was wrong, although he couldn’t have told what.
“Is there anything else?”
“Yes. One thing. A minor thing, really, and if you’re busy I can always fill you in later—"
“Now.”
“Right. Well, as I say, it’s a minor thing, but it seems that Jocasta somehow became aware of who I really am and…”
He faltered at the fury growing on Malachi’s face. His chest ached and he had to stop himself from rubbing it. That sense of wrong, that he had done something horrible and now had to pay for it, grew stronger. He turned in his chair to see if someone was behind him.
“You failed.” Malachi’s calm voice was the most frightening thing Darius had ever heard at the same time.
“It wasn’t my fault! I tried to get into her mind, to bend her will even slightly, but there’s something there, something blocking it. Even you couldn’t—"
The bolt of pain felt like lightning striking his chest. Hot, angry, intense, his jaw clamped shut, his teeth piercing his tongue. The blood flowed into his throat, choking him, before Malachi let him go and he could lean forward and spit it onto the floor.
Even as he did, the thought that he was defiling the polished wood and angering Malachi even further flashed through his mind. He sat back, swallowing hard and fighting back nausea, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“I don’t like failure,” Malachi said.
The pain vanished. Darius panted, staring at Malachi,
