Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Solentine’s eyebrows crept up. “Magic! Of course. Why didn’t I see that before? For a moment I suspected that you’d taken leave of your senses, but now I am sure of it.”
He was jumping on my last nerve. He couldn’t touch me, so he had decided to discredit me. It wouldn’t work, but my shock was starting to wear off. I was no longer numb. I was angry. I couldn’t vent my anger on Everard, but Solentine was right there.
“Let me see if I can guess how we got here.” Solentine crossed his arms on his chest. “A young woman approached you with an offer. Some vital information to bait the hook. Perhaps she needed a protector. She presented herself as a victim or she might have tried to seduce you.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly,” I said. “All of the seducing.”
“Then in a relaxing moment of peace, she fed you this inane Hreban plot. Ramond, I’m begging you, use your common sense. Does that turn of events seem likely to you?”
“Yes,” Everard said.
“Hreban couldn’t attain that position in his wildest dreams. He is the Fool of Lerem. Would it help to clarify things if I told you she approached me first? I didn’t take the bait, so she switched her target. The only question here is who is behind her.”
“Bless your heart,” I said.
“And that means?” Solentine raised his eyebrows.
“‘Eat dirt and die.’ I should’ve let Krasta slice up your arm. You’re an insufferable ass.”
“Ah, so you were the one who sent the note. Congratulations, you warned me not to get into the carriage with a man infamous for gutting his rivals with a hunting knife. The cypher was a nice touch, though. If only there weren’t several hundred people proficient in it. Is this the part where I am supposed to be impressed? Please let me know. I don’t want to miss my cue.”
I would strangle him.
“What makes more sense, an agent planted by a Great Family or a woman with mysterious powers who wants to help you for no apparent reason? If her magic was real, she would know things nobody else would . . .”
Everard looked at me. “As of now nothing has changed. Colart still loses his life. Matheo dies. The city burns. The kids still fall victim to the war.”
I knew where he was heading. He was reminding me that the Butcher had gotten away, and Solentine had an entire network that could look for him. He was jerking my emotional leash.
“The sooner we climb over this wall, the better,” Everard said. He sounded so much like his Reynald self right now. But that man was a lie.
In this moment I hated him.
Solentine opened his mouth. “As I said—”
“Three Drops of Blood.”
Solentine stopped mid-rant. “What?”
“When you were twelve years old, you were required to spend one month during the summer at your paternal grandfather’s estate. He was a mean old man, and you hated his guts. Your grandfather treasured his grape vines and the wine produced from them. They were the only things he loved in this world. His most prized wine, Three Drops of Blood, came from a one-hundred-twenty-year-old vine, the apple of his eye. That horrible old bastard babied it like it was made of gold.”
Solentine held very still.
“One day he punished you. He whipped you with a cane. The next morning, while everyone was asleep, you slipped out of your room, got an axe, made your way down to the vineyard, and chopped down the vine. You left the axe by it, so there would be no question that it was done deliberately. Then you snuck back into your room and pretended to be asleep. Unfortunately, your ten-year-old cousin found the axe and was discovered holding it. Your grandfather beat him to within an inch of his life. Nearly killed him. From your room, you could hear him screaming and the blows landing. Rumian worshiped you. And you did nothing. You sat in your room with a pillow over your head and you let him endure the worst beating of his life.”
Solentine stared at me, his face stunned. “You can’t know that. Nobody knows that.”
Everard smiled.
“Rumian still worships you. That man will do literally anything for you, and you’ve never told him. You’re a coward.”
Solentine’s hand moved to his knife.
“I was going to warn you soon, but I might as well do it now. After that beating, your aunt Griele arrived and asked your grandfather if he wanted to pick on someone his own size. She put him into sick bed for two weeks. Her swords were always precise. He disowned her, and you and your cousin never had to visit him again. When he died, he left everything to your father, Izarn, who promptly granted the villa and the vineyard to his sister. Griele and your uncle Brune moved in and turned that oppressive house into a warm and happy home.”