CHAPTER 12
B ooks shifted on the hard log chair in the Spearcrest’s great room. A cushion would have been nice, but if the one-armed seventy-year-old lord of the manor did not need cushions, Books supposed he could do without.
Though large, the inside of the Spearcrest home did not bespeak wealth any more than the outside did. No dust plagued the mantel ledge and little clutter perched on tables, but the house held numerous signs of delayed repairs: water damage at the top of a window frame, chipped bricks on the hearth where Maldynado lounged, and a broken banister rail on stairs leading to a second floor. The upholstered sofa next to Books was as threadbare as the rug that covered the dented and scratched hardwood floor.
Vonsha entered the room carrying a tray, and the scent of steamed cider wafted to Books’s nose. She handed a cup to each of them.
“There are honey pear tarts left,” she said. “May I get you one?”
Books started to say “No, thank you,” and that they had eaten breakfast, but Maldynado lifted a finger. “Absolutely.”
As soon as Vonsha left, Maldynado leaned forward. “Why don’t they have any servants? That’s unheard of.”
“Maybe they prefer a simple life that doesn’t include ordering people around like subhuman minions simply because they weren’t fortunate enough to be born into a landed family.”
“Or maybe the Spearcrests are destitute,” Maldynado said.
“This house hardly qualifies as an abode of the destitute.”
Vonsha returned with a plate of pastries.
“Excellent.” Maldynado plucked three tarts off for himself.
Books curled a lip at him. Maldynado could eat less of their food if he was worried the family was destitute.
Books selected a small tart for himself. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Vonsha, please. We’re not formal out here.” She set the plate down and sat on the sofa across from Books.
“She’s feeding them?” Lord Spearcrest’s voice drifted down the hall.
Vonsha put a hand over her face.
“Why?” Spearcrest went on. “You only feed people if you want to encourage them to stay.” A door thumped, cutting off the rest of the tirade.
“Please forgive my father.” A flush of embarrassment colored Vonsha’s cheeks.
Books liked the warm glow it gave her face. Besides, he had been the one flustered in all their conversations thus far. It was nice seeing her equanimity jostled.
“He was a general before his injury forced retirement,” Vonsha went on. “He’s spent his life yelling orders, even at his children.”
“You have siblings?” Books asked.
“My brothers are off serving in the marines. Not that they’re much help when they’re around.” Her lip curled.
“Not your favorite relatives?”
“They tormented me a lot when we were younger, and they’ve given me a hard time over…events in my adult life as well.”
Events like being ostracized for failing the emperor, Books guessed. “Sorry to hear that.”
Maldynado, who had already devoured two tarts, made a face. His eyes rolled and his brows twitched in a manner that either meant he was choking on his food, or he wanted Books to take this conversation somewhere more interesting.
“Alas, we all have these family members and people we’re cursed with.” Books gave Maldynado a pointed look. “Sometimes working with them requires us to go spelunking to new depths of patience.”
Maldynado groaned. “Spelunking to new depths? Don’t say things like that to women, Booksie. Not if you ever hope to get your sheets toasted by more than a fire-warmed brick.”
Vonsha chuckled. Books forced his lips into a smile, though it was a slight one. She was supposed to chuckle at him, not his over-muscled sidekick.
Maldynado did not appear to notice her attention. His gaze had shifted to the doorway. Lord Spearcrest stood in the hallway, scowling. Vonsha noticed and waved for her father to leave. It was a call from his wife that bestirred him, not his daughter’s gesture.
“What were those soldiers and enforcers doing here?” Maldynado picked a crumb off his shirt, tossed it in his mouth, and licked his fingers.
“They’re on some mission in the mountains,” Vonsha said. “They spoke little of it, just showed the emperor’s seal and requested lodging for the night. Naturally, it’s our privilege to put them up.”
The emperor’s seal. So, young Sespian knew there was trouble up here. Amaranthe would be excited to learn that. If the team helped with the problem, maybe it would lead to the recognition she wanted. Books wished he could be happy working toward that goal himself. What he wanted was something he could never have again: his son back. He missed being a part of a family, of knowing someone needed him-that he mattered. Surely it was too early to think of finding that with Vonsha, but his mind did linger on the idea.
“What could they be doing up here?” Maldynado frowned at Books, probably wondering why he was not asking the questions. “They didn’t look like they were continuing across the pass. They drove off the other way, going higher up in the mountains.”
Books straightened. He needed to pay attention.
“They didn’t see fit to tell us their business,” Vonsha said.
“Has anything unusual happened here that you or your parents have noticed?” Books asked.
“Well…” She studied him, perhaps wondering if she could trust him. “You know that Kendorians are sometimes spotted in imperial territory on the other side of the mountains, right? That’s why Fort Dretsvar sits at the bottom of the pass over there. Soldiers usually come through every month, some heading to the fort for a new assignment and others rotating out. They usually stay the night here, but my parents said there haven’t been any visitors for two months.”
“You believe there’s a problem at the fort?”
“If there is…” Vonsha frowned. “My parents live up here, in the path of potential trouble. They have few neighbors so, if something has happened to that fort, there’ll be nobody around to help them defend the property.”
“Vonsha,” Lord Spearcrest said from the hallway.
Books flinched. He had not heard the old man slip up on them again.
“I will discuss matters with these men,” Spearcrest said. “Privately.”
“Father, they came to see me and-”
“Now.” He rapped his knuckles on the doorframe. “Go help your mother in the kitchen.”
Vonsha sighed. “No matter how old you are, you’re still a child when you visit your parents’ home. Pardon me, gentlemen.”
As soon as she left, her father stalked in. He propped his lone arm on his hip and scowled down at them. An old service pistol that had not been there before hung from his belt.
Books stood. “My lord.”
Maldynado continued to lounge on the floor. He scratched an armpit.
“Who are you boys?” Spearcrest demanded. “And what’re you doing spying about up here?”
“We’re simply friends of Vonsha.” Books eyed the pistol, noting the cocked hammer. The old man stood far enough away that he would have time to draw and shoot before Books or Maldynado could cross the distance and tackle him. “I was in the accident with her at the real estate library,” he said. “I wanted to check on her.”
“That’s not the story you started out giving me.” Spearcrest’s hand descended to rest on the pistol butt.
Books tried not to wince. That was right. He had changed stories when Vonsha came out. He suddenly found himself admiring Amaranthe’s ability to think-prevaricate-on her feet. Oh, how he preferred the settled calm of a
