“Then why didn’t you?”
It was a logical question. It was even one he’d asked himself over the years—it was a question he wasn’t sure he had an answer for himself.
“What should I have said?” Uilleam asked, glancing over in his direction. “You would have asked for a reason why I spared her and I didn’t have one.”
He still didn’t.
“I’m not completely without empathy,” Kit said, managing to sound offended. “I would have considered your feelings on the matter.”
To that, Uilleam couldn’t help but laugh. “I told you not to retaliate against our father, but you still tortured the hell out of him before finally putting him out of his misery.”
“That was different.”
“Because you hated him?”
“Because you could have died. Very nearly did.”
Kit spoke with such conviction, Uilleam lost some of his humor as he finally looked at his brother and saw, not what he wanted to see, but what was actually there.
There was still some mild anger and another emotion Uilleam couldn’t quite read, but brimming right there at the surface was a fatigue Uilleam understood far too well.
“Sometimes, it seems you only remember what you want to and not what was. Your face was nearly unrecognizable and even the best doctors in the world hadn’t been able to definitively say whether or not you would make a full recovery once you finally woke up—if you woke up. I didn’t just blame Alexander for what he had done, I blamed myself for allowing it to happen.”
In all the years since then, they rarely talked about what happened once Kit left.
Uilleam hadn’t because he preferred not to dwell. Kit’s reasons were his own.
Perhaps that was part of their problem—their lack of communication. Even he had to admit that harboring negative emotions only made the wounds fester more and often led to him lashing out further.
And though he usually made it a point not to discuss the past, perhaps it would be better if they did.
“Believe it or not, I had a plan for him,” Uilleam said after some time.
“Did you?” Kit asked, managing to sound amused. “In case you’d forgotten, you were in a coma.”
No … he’d never forgotten.
Even now, the pain of what he had suffered that day was still fresh in his mind as most of his traumas were.
“But mother didn’t put me there,” he finally said, looking over at Kit. “Your anger with Alexander was justified—I understood it—but Abigail, for all of her faults, was as much of a victim of his as we were. Or … that was what I always believed.”
Now … now he wasn’t so sure.
He couldn’t ignore the blatant difference in the way she treated him versus the way she treated Kit. And though she had no reason to, her blatant disregard and disrespect of Luna didn’t help matters either.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time to keep her alive and out of the way. It felt like a more fitting punishment.”
Abigail craved being the center of attention—stashing her away in the middle of nowhere, away from the public eye … he knew how much she despised it.
“I spoke with her—Karina, I mean.”
Uilleam blew out a breath at the sound of her name. “And …”
“I don’t necessarily agree with her methods,” he said rather bluntly. “But I certainly understand them.”
He wanted to be upset at that—to defend himself as best he could—but Kit wasn’t wrong.
He would have done the same.
Truthfully, he would have done far worse.
“For what it’s worth,” Kit said, reaching over to place his hand on his shoulder as a measure of comfort, “I’m sorry.”
Uilleam swallowed past the emotion in his throat. “Me too.”
And maybe one day … one day, he’d be able to tell Karina as much too.
* * *
“If at first you don’t commit murder, a second opportunity will usually present itself,” Uilleam commented dryly as he joined the family at the dining table the following evening, contemplating what fresh hell this night would bring.
They’d hardly made it through the first dinner without someone causing grievous bodily harm—he doubted they would be so lucky a second time.
After their talk the night before, he and Kit had come to a silent understanding.
No more secrets, at least not between them.
Beyond the fact that the secrets they kept often tore them apart, to get through what was coming, Uilleam was going to need as many allies as he possibly could.
And there was no one greater than the world’s best assassin.
Abigail, who seemed oblivious to the tension that sparked up whenever she entered a room, made a soft sound beneath her breath. “Petty remarks are beneath you, Uilleam.”
“No,” he said with a charming smile, not missing the grin Luna attempted to hide behind her glass of water. “I quite enjoy them actually.”
Uilleam had always known his mother was a narcissist, though he hadn’t always been able to apply the traditional label to her—that had come years later. But he had learned how to read her in the years following Kit’s departure from Runehart Castle. If there was one thing she had always disliked, it was being made to look foolish.
Especially in front of someone she considered beneath her.
And whether the notion was deplorable at best, that was exactly where she saw Luna.
Her eyes cut to Luna, and Uilleam immediately recognized the look in them. “Forgive me, I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced.”
“There was no need,” Kit replied curtly, refusing to look up from his phone.
“You don’t think it’s important for your mother to know the woman you’ve given a ring to?”
Even the way she’d worded that, as if Luna was something less than human told Uilleam that this dinner was going to be over before it truly got started. Though he liked to poke at his brother until he found a spot that made the man react, there was one thing he knew better than to poke at.
Luna was the only thing on that list.
“Not in the slightest.”
Offended, Abigail asked, “Why not?”
“Because your thoughts and opinions don’t concern me.”
“Kit—“
“You were always such a difficult child,” Abigail said, cutting off whatever Luna thought to say to calm him down.
A response rested on the tip of his tongue, even Uilleam could see as much, but when Luna rested her hand on top of his, Kit remained silent.
“Was he?” Uilleam asked speaking up. “Or rather, were you just an unfit mother?”
Uilleam had spent the better part of his day and night, reflecting on his conversation with Kit and the clarity it brought him. He hadn’t been sure, at first, why Elsie had insisted on forcing them all together despite the animosity she had to know existed between all of them, but now he started to wonder if there was some sort of method to her madness.
But while he was inclined, and willing, to discuss things with Kit and get to the root of their issues, his mother was an entirely different story.
It went beyond a few petty grievances.
There was much to unpack there, and he wasn’t ready to deal with it just yet.
But, he also wasn’t going to allow her to cast all the blame on Kit without accepting any for herself.
Abigail scoffed. “I’ve given you everything—all of you. How dare you speak to me this way.”
Luna, attempting to be the voice of reason, said, “Maybe it would be better if—”
“Has anyone ever taught you to speak when spoken to?” Abigail snapped, looking at Luna with disdain. “I don’t find it the least bit surprising that someone of your ilk lacks proper—“
Abigail never got the chance to finish whatever cutting remark she thought to make because in the next second, a knife was flying through the air, straight as an arrow before it embedded i
tself in the apple she held in front of her mouth.
She might not have known fear before, but she visibly paled at the sight of the blade handle sticking out of the apple.
“I strongly encourage you to finish what you were saying. I’m in need of the practice.”
Abigail looked aghast, her hand fluttering to her chest as she placed the offending item back on the table. “You’d dare harm your own mother?”
Kit laughed, actually sounding amused. “For Luna? I’d slit your throat and not think twice about it.”
There was no question he meant those words, not when he made it a point to meet their mother’s gaze as he said them.
While this wasn’t at all surprising for Uilleam—he knew the extent of his brother’s feelings when it came to their parents and to Luna—Abigail looked as if she had swallowed a lemon.
“Perhaps we could save the threats for after we have pie,” Elsie suggested, not bothering to look up from her plate as she cut into her chicken breast.
“I don’t know why I bother with you,” Abigail muttered, balling up her napkin and tossing it on the table. “I’m treated no better than a second class citizen.”
“You’re only here because I wanted Uilleam to understand that while he’s not completely to blame for his actions considering the pair that raised us, but it’s time he take responsibility for his own actions if he wants to make things right.”
They were all silent as Elsie spoke.
“Either he can continue to cast blame and end up with a life like yours, or he can accept the role he played in getting himself into this mess and fix it. The choice is his.”
And for once, it was certainly going to be an easy one.
* * *
Elsie didn’t have a traditional office with a desk, the standard built-in bookshelves, and the proverbial ledge tucked away inside a secret drawer somewhere.
“That certainly went well,” Uilleam said thoughtfully once it was just the three of them, Luna having already gone to bed for the night.
“Could have been worse. Imagine if our father were still alive.”
He shuddered at the thought—the phantom pain of how Alexander would have responded at the ready.
“I imagine there’s some sort of reason to the madness you’ve invited us into?” Kit asked, reaching for a book whose title Uilleam couldn’t see from a pile on the mantle.
“I thought it best we give brother dearest a big of perspective before he marched down a road of no return.”
Uilleam frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you’re not careful, you’re going to lose everything you hold dear and you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”
He had no good response for that.
“You must have some sort of plan then,” Kit interjected.
“Perhaps … and if Uilleam knows what’s good for him, he’ll do it.”
This was the problem with being the youngest, his siblings seemed to talk about him as if he weren’t in the same room.
“I’m perfectly capable of handling my own affairs.”
“As evidenced by the fact that your business is in ruins and you’re facing capture at the hands of the Americans.”
There was that … but Uilleam knew it was only a matter of time before he seduced a way to get himself out of this as he’d done so many times before.
He hadn’t made it this far without getting caught just to have his entire operation get bungled after one small incident.
“If you have it all figured out,” Uilleam said with a wave of his hand, “tell us the plan.”
“Well, you might have to get used to the idea ,” Elsie said meeting his gaze. “But, in a few weeks time, you’re going to hand yourself over to the American authorities.”
5
The Table
“Rise and shine!”
Karina couldn’t imagine now what Isla had been thinking when she gave their mother a key to her home, but as she was roused from a fitful night of dreamless slumber, she was certainly regretting not having gone to her own home the night before.
Perhaps she would have been less irritated with Katherine had she bothered to knock—or wait until she was actually awake—but while she had always known her mother wasn’t one to respect boundaries, that didn’t make it any less annoying.
Dragging the duvet over her head, Karina counted backward from ten, hoping by the time she got down to one her mother would be gone and this was all just a fever dream concocted by her exhausted brain.
But when she heard the rustle of hangers and the rather firm slam of her closet door—done to further ensure she was awake, no doubt—Karina knew there was no point in ignoring her further.
It would only delay the inevitable.
“Should I even bother to ask what’s brought you here so early, Mother?”
“Oh darling, I hope I haven’t woken you.”
From the sanctity of her solitude beneath the comforter, Karina rolled her eyes. That was hard to believe.
“But since you’re already awake, why don’t you freshen up and come down for a little breakfast. Then, we can talk.”
While it was framed as a suggestion, Karina knew better.
Resigning herself to that fact, she waited until she heard her bedroom door click shut before forcing herself out of bed and into the shower.
She waited for the rush of inevitable energy to hit her—that anticipation at the start of a new day and all she wanted to accomplish—but after a shower, brushing her teeth, and getting dressed, she felt as tired and disinterested as she had prior to climbing out of bed.
At this point, she was starting to wonder if the melancholy would ever end.
Downstairs, she poured her own glass of cranberry juice instead of waiting for the assistant her mother had brought along to do it for her.
By the time she sat down in the small breakfast nook, a platter of fresh fruits and croissants were waiting on the table.
“Is Isla joining us?”
“She’s off making herself useful,” Katherine said nonchalantly.
Did she truly not understand how that sounded? Or, did she just not care?
Karina would be one of the first to admit she’d been lost in her own troubles for quite some time and hadn’t been able to focus on anything else, but she couldn’t imagine not noticing the dismissive way in which her mother spoke about Isla.
It always seemed so … cruel.
It also made her wonder how Katherine spoke about her when she wasn’t around to hear it.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Karina asked, not feeling all that hungry even as she picked at the breakfast spread.
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” Katherine said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious. “What do you know about the Table?”
Immediately, her mind went to Uilleam and the very beginning of their relationship. It felt like a lifetime ago that he had invited her along to Paris with him.
“Not much,” she replied honestly. “I know those that belong to it are voted in by current, seated members, and vacancies only come about when one of them dies.”
Katherine seemed pleased with her answer. “All true, but one little known fact about them is that one’s position can be vetoed should a vote be called for it.”
Karina’s stomach soured at the thought. “Is that what this has been about? You wanting Uilleam’s seat?”
She looked at her as if the answer was obvious. “Of course. It’s why I wanted the two of you together in the first place. Took a bit longer than I would have liked, but here we are.”
Karina could only stare at her. There were so many things she wanted to say, but none of them felt good enough.
“Have you considered that perhaps I don’t want a seat at the table?”
“Why on earth wouldn’t you?” Katherine asked, as if she were speaking nonsense. “We spent years systematically destroying everything he holds dear—this is the reward.�
��
“No, we spent years destroying him because of what happened to Poppy,” she reminded her for what felt like the hundredth time. “The rest is immaterial.”
“Of course, that as well.”
Had there ever been a time when she sounded less sincere?
How hadn’t she noticed before?
“What I’m saying,” Katherine said, reaching across the table for her hand, “is that this is the culmination of all of our hard work. The final step, if you will.”
“Then it will be over?” Karina asked, managing for to sound tired even to her own ears.
Katherine nodded. “Certainly.”
Then it was best they get this over with.
* * *
“Thanks for coming.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever been to Brussels before,” Orion stated with a grin as he stepped out of the Dodge Challenger, spinning the keys around his finger. “I’m surprised the other guy isn’t with you.”
“Everyone deserves a vacation—even assassins.”
Besides, she was almost certain today wasn’t a day when she would need Sebastian with her—not with men who prided themselves on their image and very rarely took care of their own problems.
“Nervous?” he asked.
Karina shrugged even as she smiled. “I’ve faced worse odds.”
With Orion at her side, she crossed the busy street, mindful of the idling cars waiting for them to cross to the other side.
Karina kept her sunglasses firmly in place to block out the midday sun, entering the three hundred year old building without looking back.
Despite the front desk attendant, no one questioned their boarding the lift that took them up to a secret floor that couldn’t be accessed unless one knew where they were going.
It just so happened that she did, even as she wasn’t supposed to possess that knowledge.
If only they knew …
These meetings weren’t nearly as private as the men who threw them thought they were. It didn’t matter that they rarely came together in the interest of anonymity.
It had only taken one meeting—one chance encounter in Paris for her to get everything she needed to learn about the men currently unaware of her presence upstairs.
Dark Horse: The Kingmaker Saga #5 Page 5
