House of Strife (Poisoned Houses Book 4)

by Lyn Forester

  The Director oversees the Time and Weather Wardens, directing the change of seasons. He also coordinates with waste management. Not a prestigious position, but a necessary one that pays well, which makes the position easy to fill.

  Unlike the High Council, Mr. Blue, Mr. Black, and Mr. White, Directors can be pulled from anywhere and put into these management positions. I was surprised to see his name on the list of people willing to risk fines for breaking the contract not to record the happenings at the Councilitorium. If this got out, he would lose his position and his residence on Level 12.

  On the bed next to me, Connor snuffles lightly in his sleep, and I glance over to make sure he’s still doing okay. His eyelashes flutter, caught in a dream, but otherwise, he seems fine. He fell asleep shortly after Nikola left, and I’ve been waking him up every hour to check his coherence before letting him go back to sleep.

  My attention returns to the monitor where the first video clip plays.

  So far, it’s been a steady back and forth of servants and dignitaries sneaking away for private moments.

  To account for each person’s whereabouts, I mark when they go into side rooms and when they leave. It’s a tedious process, but we’re slowly making a moving map of everyone’s locations. Hopefully, it will help to narrow down suspects.

  Unfortunately, this recording reveals a service hallway that no one had surveillance on, creating a large blind spot as servers enter from one side of the hall and exit on another.

  Some never step foot in the main hall, which adds new names to our ever-growing list. If the poisoner snuck in using one of the back halls and left the same way, they’re not even on our radar yet.

  When young Henry Navicki, heir to the twelfth council seat, sneaks onto the screen, I straighten with interest and mark the time. He glances over his shoulder, then ducks into the third door on the right of the hall, a meeting room cordoned off from the party.

  Five minutes later, Dominick Arrington, Declan’s brother, strides onto the screen looking like he owns the place and has every right to be there. When he ducks into the same room Henry entered, I pause the recording and pull up a new one.

  A room with a large table and seating for seven fills the screen, and I fast forward through the cleaning staff entering, then hours of the room being empty until Henry appears on the screen.

  Slowing down to normal speed, I watch the demi-Councilor pace around the room, which piques my suspicion. Henry’s been Dominick’s lover long enough to get over any nervousness, and while a liaison at such a public event is risqué, the door has a lock, so it’s unlikely anyone will walk in on them.

  Then Henry walks to the sidebar and pulls something from his inner jacket pocket, stashing it among the available water glasses. The angle of the recording makes it impossible to see, but I can guess. House Navicki was on the list of people who illegally recorded Mr. Blue’s party, but their devices were registered in the main hall. We missed this one because it wasn’t set up until later in the party.

  Henry quickly moves away from the camera and shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over one of the chairs.

  A minute later, Dominick enters the room and locks the door.

  Uncomfortable, I shift in my chair. I have an idea of what comes next, and I don’t particularly want to watch. Such moments are private, though two surveillance devices would say otherwise.

  As Dominick hurries across the room, I slip on the headphones I left sitting on the desktop until now.

  Their voices fill my ears, surprisingly clear for their distance from the recording device.

  Dominick cups Henry’s face, his expression intense. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get away before now. Staying away from you was torture.”

  Henry clutches his lapels. “I hate seeing her touch you.”

  By her, I assume he means Ashley Arrington, Dominick’s former wife. They’d danced a total of three times in a show of unity belied by the foot of distance they maintained during their slow circles around the room.

  Dominick drops a sweet kiss on Henry’s frown. “I hate it, too. As soon as I have my heir, I’ll send her away and it will only be you.”

  Henry pouts prettily. “Do you promise?”

  “Yes.” Dominick kisses him again.

  “How long?” Henry presses.

  “I have to wait until Declan is twenty. Once he’s done his duty and my heir is secured, I’ll buy Ashley a vacation house in Roen and send her there. I’ll register you as my consort. Then, we can be together.”

  My stomach twists at the cavalier way he plans to use Declan and for his blatant disregard for the tradition of keeping the High Houses autonomous from each other. The Houses have never intermarried in order to maintain an unbiased public face.

  It was a risk to invite Declan to become my secretary, as it could be perceived as a union between the First and Fifth House. If I married him, or married Connor or Felix, the other Houses would rebel. Meeting behind closed doors is one thing, but making it public record will throw the entire system into chaos. It’s why House Lonette treats our Secretaries as our spouses. The monogamous partnership prevents any hint of scandal as far as love affairs go.

  “That’s three years from now!” Henry’s voice trembles as he turns away. “It’s too long. You’ll find someone else.”

  “I won’t.” Dominick cups his shoulders, peppering kisses down his neck. “I’ll bring you into my House as an intern. No one will question it. That way we can be together now.”

  He sounds desperate even to my ears, like he actually loves Henry, and maybe he does. His marriage to Ashley was political and arranged by his family. She was a vicious woman with a long string of her own lovers. Every encounter I’ve had with Dominick, he’s been cold and unapproachable, and based on what Declan has said about him, I assumed Henry was just a fling. But this conversation shines a new light on it.

  Henry turns in Dominick’s arms, his voice breathy with excitement. “You will? We can be together now?”

  Dominick pulls a palm-port from his pocket and types on the screen, then shows it to Henry. “It’s done. You can move in as soon as tomorrow.”

  Which explains how Henry infiltrated House Arrington before they locked the doors against the public. He’d been made a member of the Arrington household staff.

  Henry throws his arms around Dominick’s neck, kissing him passionately. “I love you, I love you.”

  Dominick murmurs back, then Henry drops to his knees to fumble with his lover’s belt.

  Muting the audio, I press fast-forward. The desire to look away is outweighed by the worry I’ll miss something important. So I force myself to watch and learn far more about Dominick’s proclivities than I ever wanted to.

  Who needs skin-vids when I have this kind of material to educate myself on?

  I return the video to normal speed and unmute the audio as they pull their clothes back on.

  Dominick leaves first with promises to prepare Henry’s new quarters for his arrival. Henry waits a few minutes before he walks over to the sideboard and reclaims his recorder, stuffing it into his pocket.

  He then fills one of the glasses from the available carafe, swishes, and spits into the nearby wastebasket, muttering, “Disgusting.”

  He repeats the process a few more times, scrubs his hand over his mouth, and strides from the room.

  I click back over to the first video clip and watch until Dominick and Henry return to the main hall before hitting pause.

  My mind whirls with implications. As I see it, this recording presents four main issues.

  Dominick’s clear love for Henry, which made him blindly commit himself to the boy.

  Henry’s obvious disgust over an arrangement that will raise him in political power.

  The reason Henry recorded such an intimate moment.

  And the ramifications of the Director of Public Works also possessing a recording.

  Henry is using Dominick, a transgression that can’t be allowed to conti
nue. If Dominick did lose interest in him in the future, Henry would be able to pull out his recording and use it as proof of a verbal contract between them.

  If Henry remains at Dominick’s side, The Director of Public Works could use his footage to blackmail Henry into pushing his own agenda and therefore extort House Arrington as well. Another situation that cannot be allowed.

  This kind of blackmail scheme is why people risk fines to sneak recording devices into such events.

  I drum my fingers against my thigh for a moment, then grab the palm-port we smuggled into the school and dial a number.

  A smooth voice picks up the line. “Arrington residence. How may I help you?”

  I’d hoped Declan would be on phone duty today. It would have made this easier. I keep my tone cool and precise. “Demi-Councilor Lonette calling for Councilor Arrington.”

  “Councilor Arrington is not accepting calls at the moment. May I take a message?”

  I suppress a sigh. “Please notify him of who is calling. I’m sure he’ll wish to speak to me.”

  “My apologies, demi-Councilor, but I have been instructed to turn away all calls at this time. Even those from the First House.” The voice remains smooth but firm. I won’t reach Dominick this way.

  “Thank you.” I hang up without waiting for a response.

  Setting the device back on the desktop, I go back to the second footage, rewind to the moment Henry dropped to his knees, and grab a still shot. I then open my private messaging system and send a secure message directly to Dominick, along with my current contact number.

  Sometimes it pays to be the future First Councilor.

  The palm-port on the desk buzzes with an incoming call, the screen blank of all information. That only happens when the caller uses an encryption service.

  I answer on the third ring. “Demi-Councilor Lonette speaking.”

  “You have my attention, demi-Councilor,” Dominick says coolly from the other end of the line. “Is your intention blackmail?”

  “My intention is to inform, one councilor to another.” I keep my tone just as cool. “Perhaps, if you appreciate the information, you will grant a request of mine.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I lick my dry lips. This is my first time negotiating something like this, but I was raised for this kind of backdoor bargaining. “I’m aware of the current strain House Arrington is under. I hope your family is able to find rest during their upcoming vacation.”

  “I see.” The words come out clipped. “This explains my brother’s recent convalescence.”

  “He’s under a lot of pressure to act as your secretary. I worry that he might need more time training at APA before he can fully support you.”

  “The First House’s concern is noted.” He pauses for a moment. “However, I don’t know that what you sent is sufficient for the inconvenience of losing my secretary right now.”

  “Promises are made in this recording.”

  “Promises I intend to keep,” he snaps, anger filtering through his calm.

  Guilt pricks at me. He’s so sure of Henry that he would ignore this risk. He must love him deeply. But in his place, I would want to know, no matter the pain it causes. “The full recording would change your mind.”

  Silence fills the line, and when he comes back, his walls are back in place, his voice devoid of emotion. “Perhaps Declan could do with more schooling. Is that all?”

  About to agree, I pause, then risk another push. “You made an accusation not long ago, regarding the source of your current strain. What was your basis?”

  The next silence lasts longer before he carefully says, “You uncovered this video, I’m sure it wouldn’t be difficult for you to locate the answer for yourself, if you looked in the right place. Now, I have a meeting to prepare for and need to leave my office by 1500. I assume this concludes our conversation?”

  “Thank you for your time, Councilor Arrington.” I disconnect, then pull the folding-port closer.

  It only takes a few minutes to clip out the pertinent footage and send it via secure message with a note regarding the Director of Public Works’ hand in it. Dominick will have a mess to clean up before he severs ties with Henry. He’ll need to wipe out all evidence of their liaison, both the Director’s and Henry’s.

  Once I send the message, I let my arms dangle at my sides and stare at the paused video. Did I do the right thing? Should I have pressed for more? Demanded assurances that Dominick wouldn’t send Declan for DNA registration before sending him back? Demanded a timeline for Declan’s return? Did I make an ally or an enemy today with House Arrington? I saved Dominick years of living a lie but ruined his future happiness, too. Would he have preferred the lie to stay with the person he loves?

  “Don’t doubt yourself,” Connor whispers. “I would have done the same in your place.”

  I flinch, head turning toward the bed. Connor rests on his side, his elbow under his head and eyes focused on me.

  When did he wake up?

  Concerned, I leave the chair to perch on the edge of the bed. I smooth his hair back from his eyes and check their dilation. “How do you feel?”

  He catches my hand and holds it against his heart. “Safe.”

  I frown. “Of course, you’re safe. We’re locked up in a glass bubble only accessible by aircraft. There’s nowhere safer in Leton.”

  He smiles crookedly. “I meant I feel safe with you. I know you’ll do what it takes to protect me, like you just did for Declan. Like you’ve been doing for Declan.”

  He rolls onto his back, tugging my arm across his body until I practically lay on top of him.

  Amused, I stare up at him from my place draped across his chest. “What are you doing?”

  “You haven’t slept all night.” He scoots over, dragging me farther onto the bed. “You need to rest, too.”

  I push up with my free arm to frown down at him. “I can’t rest. I’m making sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

  “Then just lay with me for a bit.” Insistent, he tugs on my hand until I relent and lay with my head on his shoulder.

  The calm energy that always flows from him seeps into me, pushing aside my doubts about my actions. His free hand rubs gentle circles on my back to relax my muscles.

  I yawn and blink hard. “I’m not giving in to your wiles.”

  His gentle murmur rumbles under my ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I yawn again. “You know, bringing Declan back here just makes it easier for him to run away.”

  “He’ll find a way no matter where he is.” Connor’s fingers move into my curls, massaging the back of my neck. “We can’t force him to change his path. Only he can do that.”

  My eyes sting, and I nuzzle my face against Connor’s chest. “I don’t want him to go.”

  His arms tighten around me. “I don’t, either.”

  I tip my head back to search his face. “Why aren’t you mad at him?”

  “I am, but I also understand.” He stares up at the ceiling. “As much as I don’t want to lose my friend, I also want him to be happy.” He lapses into silence for a moment before clearing his throat. “Will you try to stop him?”

  “No.” A dozen ways to force him to stay run through my head, but I dismiss them all. I’ll do everything in my power to help those I love, even if that means letting them go. “No, I want him to be happy, too.”

  Pain vs Pain

  Thirty minutes before I need to meet Felix, I gently wake Connor up, get him to drink some water, and inject the second round of pain meds. He offers to go with me, but I press him down into the mattress and pull the comforter up with a warning for him not to move until I return.

  Taking the lock-picking device, I stuff it under my sleep shirt, then run down the hall to my dorm where I change into a fresh pair of slacks and a loose sweater. I grab my satchel off my desk, pull out the tablet, and slip in the lock-picking device in its place. The device changes the shape of the bag, ma
king it obvious I’m carting around something else, but it’s the best I can do without Nikola’s miracle jacket of gravity-defying pockets.

  I sling the satchel over my shoulder and head out.

  Tension fills me on the walk from the dorms to the Entertainment Hall. At this time of day, everyone’s in classes, making the central walkway eerily empty and my presence far too conspicuous.

  But no teachers come running out demanding to know why I’m not in class, and I make it to the Entertainment Hall without running into anyone.

  I rush past the tables for 8-Ball and down the hall that leads to the theater room. Its thickly curtained walls and dim light ease my nerves a little. It feels safe in here, cut off from the rest of the school like a cocoon of protection.

  The carpet muffles my steps as I walk to the back wall next to the enormous holo-screen and sweep the curtain aside to reveal the door. I came early to give myself time to open the locks. My first success didn’t instill in me confidence that these locks will be as easy. But I remember roughly where Nikola positioned the light bars to trip them open. Hopefully, that helps me get through them faster.

  When I slip the card into the lock, the buzz that courses through my body rattles my teeth, far stronger than the lock in Nikola’s room. Quickly, I move the bars to the proper pattern. The buzz decreases, but the frequency remains discordant, and I spend a few uncomfortable minutes fussing with the lights until it snaps into place with a relieving hum of energy. Thankfully, while the lock sequence changes daily, it doesn’t change drastically.

  I push open the door and slip into the maintenance room, hurrying past the scaffolding for the holo-screen to the back where the second door waits. When I check the time, I still have ten minutes before I planned to meet with Felix. If everything went according to plan, he’ll be making his way across the sky bridges right now. Then he’ll have to climb up the ladder to reach the school’s level and walk the incline back to the school itself.

  Taking a deep breath, I slip the card into the lock. A painful crackle of electricity spikes through me, and an involuntary cry escapes. My hands spasm, and I almost drop the lock-picker before I force my fingers to curl around it. How did Nikola do this in silence that first time? I knew it was rougher than the first lock, but nothing could have prepared me for this.