Bayou Moon te-2

by Ilona Andrews

  William nodded again. “I have it figured out. I will use the journal as leverage.”

  “That’s a really dangerous game to play,” Declan said. “If you get burned, William, there is nothing any of us can do.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “My job is to warn. Here is the interesting thing. According to the treaties, if de Kasis is found to have violated his agreements, the realm that proves his wrongdoing gets to confiscate his lands. There isn’t much land there, but whatever there is will become the property of Adrianglia. You need to buy that land from the government. They wouldn’t sell it to you normally, so you have to make that part of your deal with the Mirror. It will give you access to the Mire, and you can smuggle your girl and her family out.”

  William exhaled. “So all I need is to get the money to buy the place. Borrow it, steal it …”

  Declan stared at him.

  “What?”

  Declan braided the fingers of his hands. “Borrow it?”

  William shrugged.

  “When Casshorn died, his possessions passed to you. You’re his adopted son and his only heir. You own two castles, half of the Darkwood, a forty-mile stretch of Darron River, for the use of which you charge the shipping companies a sizable toll, and the land on which the city of Blueshire sits. They pay you rent. Why the devil would you need to borrow the money, you dumb bastard? You’re richer than I am.”

  William’s brain screeched to a halt.

  Declan got up. “While you had your two-year-long pity party and hid out in a shitty trailer, playing with your toys and drinking beer, I had to take care of your financials. And if you think I don’t have my own shit to deal with, you’re sadly mistaken.” He pulled several large ledgers from the shelf and dropped them in a stack on the table. “There you go. All yours now, Lord William Sandine. Have a go at it. Don’t spend it all in one place and hire somebody good with money to manage it for you.”

  WILLIAM sat alone in the silence of Declan’s library. It had been twenty-four hours since he made the call to Erwin through Declan’s scryer unit. He’d outlined the details of the deal. Erwin said nothing. He simply bowed and severed the connection.

  Declan insisted on both him and the kid staying in the manor, reasoning that if the Mirror didn’t like the deal, they would be more reluctant to rain hellfire and meteorites upon the house of the Marshal. He even deployed his most effective weapon, in case things went really sour—two hours after the scrying took place, the carriage of the Duchess of the Southern Provinces pulled up to the front gates. William had met the Duchess before. He would rather go up barehanded against a rabid bear.

  The ache inside his chest gnawed on him. It started when he woke up and found out Cerise had left him. Over the next few days it grew stronger and stronger. She had left him. The rational part of him reassured him that she had done it to save him. But the rational part of him grew weaker and weaker. She had left him. Like so many people before. Even if everything went his way, even if he managed to pull it off, she could still walk away from him. And there wouldn’t be a damn thing he could do about it.

  He got up and stepped onto the balcony. The sun was slowly setting. They would serve dinner soon—he could smell it from the kitchen.

  Voices came from below. William leaned over and looked down. Three kids, George’s blond head, Jack’s auburn mane, and Gaston’s closely cropped hair. He’d barely seen the kids since he arrived. By the time he and Declan had hammered out and delivered the terms of the deal, he was dead on his feet and he passed out for about twelve hours.

  “So what are you?” Jack asked, aggression vibrating in his voice.

  This ought to be interesting.

  “Are you like William’s kid or something?” Jack asked.

  “Leave it alone,” George said, his voice calm.

  Gaston leaned back a bit. “Who’s asking?”

  This wouldn’t go well

  “What do you mean, who’s asking? I’m asking. Are you that stupid? What are you, some kind of inbred hick?”

  “Here we go,” George muttered.

  Gaston shrugged. “I tell you what, run along. I have no time for spoiled rich babies.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jack lunged forward. He was fast, but not faster than George, who stepped out of the way half a second before Jack struck. Gaston threw his hand up, and Jack ran face-first into his fist.

  That had to hurt. William winced. Gaston had fists like hammers. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with them yet, but Jack wasn’t hard to stop. He all but threw himself.

  Jack spun from the impact. A low feline growl tore from his mouth.

  Okay, that was about enough of that. William hopped over the balcony and landed between them. The jump almost took him off his legs. He was still too weak, but the kids didn’t know it.

  William looked the boys over. In two years George had grown taller and filled out. He’d never be bulky, but he was no longer thin and sickly. His pale hair was cut in the same manner as Declan’s when Declan kept it short. His clothes were meticulously clean.

  Jack wore a ripped-up shirt. His nose was bleeding. His eyes shone every time he turned his head. The kid was strung up too high.

  “What the hell are you doing?” William asked.

  Jack wiped the blood from his nose. “Nothing.”

  “Why the hell would you run at him? He outweighs you by sixty pounds.”

  Jack looked away.

  “He’s also taller than you by eight inches. First order of business—make him shorter.”

  William dropped down and swiped with his leg, knocking Jack’s feet out from under him. The kid was fast, but he wasn’t paying attention. His legs went one way, his head went the other. He fell into the grass and bounced back up, hissing like a pissed-off cat.

  “Your turn,” William said. “Go for it.”

  Jack lunged at Gaston’s legs. Gaston tensed and jumped, catching the lower branch of an oak.

  Jack rolled up. “What the hell?”

  “Did you expect him to stand still for you?”

  Gaston grinned.

  “Go on,” William said. “Try to get to higher ground.”

  Jack scrambled up the tree, trying to get a drop on the older kid. They squared off in the branches, kicking and talking shit.

  William and George watched them.

  “How have you been, George?”

  “Good, thank you. I’m really glad you are back,” George said. “Will you stay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  George sighed and for a moment he looked just like the weak, pale kid William had met two years ago. “I wish you would stay,” the boy said. “It would be better for everyone. Especially Jack.”

  THE dining room was huge, William reflected. His whole house would fit into it. It was also mostly empty. The Duchess had pulled Rose away to her rooms for some sort of female reason, and it was only Declan, him, and the kids sitting at the enormous table.

  George sliced his food with surgical precision, as if he’d spent the entire two years in the Weird taking etiquette lessons. He was meticulously clean. Both Gaston and Jack were filthy, smeared with dirt and covered with scratches. Jack had stuffed some wadded paper up his nose—Gaston had tapped him again—while his ward sported a shiner where Jack managed to kick him.

  “What happened?” Declan asked.

  Jack bared his teeth at him. “We fell.”

  “Together?” Declan said.

  Gaston looked at his plate.

  “Tell him,” William said.

  “He made a comment about hicks. Then I made a comment about spoiled babies. Then he ran into my fist and we had words.”

  Declan looked at Jack. “Why the hell would you run at him? Should’ve gone for the legs.”

  Jack opened his mouth.

  Nancy Virai walked through the door.

  Declan choked on his steak.

  Erwin followed Nancy, wearing the familiar
apologetic smile.

  William started to get up.

  “Don’t rise on my account.”

  Declan rose anyway and bowed. “Lady V. What a pleasure. Please sit down.”

  Erwin stepped out from behind Nancy and held out a chair. She sat, and he positioned himself behind her chair.

  Nancy’s sharp eyes fastened on William. “If you are wrong, the assault of Kasis will cause a diplomatic mess.”

  “I’m not wrong,” William said.

  “Ten years. That’s my price for this foolishness.”

  William blinked. “Ten years?”

  Nancy rested one long leg over the other. “If I do this for you, the Mirror will have the use of your services for ten years. And of course, you will turn the journal over to us.”

  “Don’t do it,” Declan cut in.

  Nancy turned to him. Her raptor eyes stared at him for a second. “The Mirror appreciates Earl Camarine’s zeal in offering advice to his friend. However, from where I am sitting, it seems that Lord Sandine is, in fact, wearing his big-boy pants, as they say in the Broken. He’s capable of making that decision on his own. Yes or no, William?”

  “Gustave lives and I get to take the Mars out of the Mire. They will receive Adrianglian citizenship.”

  Nancy tilted her head. “Does the girl mean that much to you?”

  He bared his teeth at her. “Take it or leave it, Nancy.”

  “No,” Declan repeated.

  Nancy smiled. George drew back. Jack hissed.

  “You have your deal. Earl Camarine, the wards of the House of Camarine, and the ward of the House of Sandine, will bear witnesses to this agreement on their honor.”

  Declan dragged his hand across his face.

  “I understand the Duchess is in residence,” Nancy said.

  “Yes,” Declan nodded. “She would be sorely disappointed if you left without speaking to her.”

  Nancy smiled again. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  * * *

  WILLIAM left for Kasis the next morning, Gaston with him. Declan decided to come at the last minute. It felt off, William reflected. Almost as if they were back in the Legion.

  Before they left, Jack came by his room. He looked younger somehow, timid and dejected. “Are you coming back?”

  William nodded. “Eventually.”

  “Okay, then.” Jack opened his mouth to say something and closed it.

  “How’s it going?” William asked.

  Jack looked at his feet. “I don’t want to go to Hawk’s.”

  Fury flashed through William. “Are they talking about sending you there?”

  Jack shook his head. “No. Just … I can’t do anything right. It’s always Jack, Jack, Jack. Jack ruined that and Jack broke this. I’m trying, but it’s not working.”

  “You won’t have to go to Hawk’s,” William said. “If it comes to that, I’ll take you with me.”

  Jack froze. “Promise.”

  “I promise.”

  “Don’t take too long to come back.”

  “I won’t.” William reached over to the table, to a basket of snacks someone left in his room, plucked out a square of chocolate wrapped in foil, and handed it to Jack.

  “A smart kid once told me it helps,” he said. “Wait for me and don’t do anything stupid.”

  FIVE days later William stood on the balcony of Kasis Castle and looked over the vast field of cypresses dripping silvery moss. Just two miles south, the boundary offered passage to the Mire.

  The attack on Kasis had taken less than an hour. Four of the Hand’s agents were killed in the Keep, and Erwin’s people found enough damaging papers to keep them happy for months. Nobody in their right mind could claim that de Kasis was neutral.

  Antoine de Kasis died resisting apprehension. He didn’t resist very much, William reflected. He’d been pissed off and hurting, and de Kasis died under his knife before offering any real resistance.

  Two hours later William traded the deed to Kasis for the copy of the journal. The journal was missing a couple of crucial pages, but his memory wasn’t that perfect and most of the research was there and Nancy was pleased. If she suspected he held anything back, she didn’t let it show.

  While William exchanged the journal for the deed, Erwin briefed Gustave and escorted him back home, with a detachment of the Mirror’s agents to keep the Mars safe during their evacuation. It was better this way, William reflected. He wasn’t sure what the man would think of him.

  Three days had passed now with no word from Cerise. She was only a day away in the Mire. He’d done everything he could. She couldn’t be with him because of the threat to her family. He had taken care of it. William grimaced. He’d thought about going back to the Rathole, but decided against it. He knew the way she thought. If he showed up, after saving her father and her family, she would have to be with him whether she liked it or not. So he sat here, alone, and waited. Waited for her to decide if she wanted him or if she didn’t.

  SHE came to him in his dreams. Her face was smudged, but he knew it was her, because he could smell her scent and hear her voice, soothing, calling his name. When he awoke, the wild inside him snarled and howled, abandoned, hurting, and so alone he wondered if he would go mad. So every morning he came to the damn balcony and stared at the Mire. It wasn’t up to him anymore. All he could do was wait.

  CERISE raised her face from her arms. Outside night had fallen on the Mire. Familiar quick steps ran up the stairs leading to her hideout.

  “Can I come in?” her father asked from the stairway.

  She nodded.

  He came and sat in a chair across from her. He was thinner than she remembered. Older. He’d been home for almost two weeks now, and she still woke up convinced that he was missing.

  “The packing is almost done,” he said. “We’re leaving the Mire the day after tomorrow.”

  She looked away. She’d packed nothing.

  “Do you need help with your things?” he asked.

  “I’m not going.”

  Gustave frowned, wrinkles gathering on his forehead. “So you plan to abandon all of us? Grandma, your cousins, me. Sophie.”

  Cerise glanced at the soft chair, where Lark curled up, asleep.

  She didn’t have an answer, so she just looked away.

  “Tell me about it,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t understand?” he asked softly. “They took your mother away from me. Ripped her out of my hands. That was the last time I saw her, terrified, dragged away. I know what it feels like, Ceri. I do.”

  She swallowed. “He didn’t come for me. I love him. I thought he loved me, but he didn’t come for me.”

  “Maybe you should go to him,” he said gently. “He might be waiting.”

  She shook her head. “I talked to the Mirror’s people. He lied to me again, Papa. He told me he had nothing, but apparently he’s rich. He’s related to the Marshal of the Southern Provinces. It’s a big deal, from what they say. He told me he was a bounty hunter, that he was normal, that he had nothing, and I believed him. Why is it I always believe him? Am I stupid?”

  “Men lie for many reasons,” Gustave said. “Perhaps he wanted to make sure that you love him for who he is, not for his money.”

  “He told me he loved me, too. How do I know it’s not another lie?”

  Gustave sighed. “The man came to get me out of Kasis. He didn’t owe that to us, Ceri. He came for me because I’m your father.”

  She shook her head. “He knows where the house is. It would take him a day to get down here. If he wanted to, he would be here already. He’s changed his mind, Papa. He decided he doesn’t want me, and I’m not going to beg. I won’t be showing up on his doorstep in all of my Mire glory, asking him to come and lift me from the mud. I have some damn pride left.”

  Gustave sighed. “I want you to start packing tomorrow.”

  She didn’t answer. What was the point of talking anyw
ay?

  He sighed again and left. Cerise waited until he closed the door and then cried quietly, curled up in her chair.

  ANOTHER gray day. The view from the balcony looked much the same.

  William shook his head. She wasn’t coming. He had to clench his teeth and move on.

  Steps echoed behind him. One of Declan’s deputy marshals, on loan until William could get his own people sorted out. He had no idea how to do that.

  “M’lord, Gustave Mar is here.”

  Great. “Show him in, please.”

  A few moments later Gustave joined him on the balcony. Lean, dark. Like Cerise. Same eyes, same posture.

  Gustave bowed.

  “Don’t,” William told him. “Here.” He pulled a chair from the small picnic table and sat in the other chair himself. “What can I do for you?”

  “I came to thank you for saving my family. And for helping Genevieve and sparing my daughter that burden. I don’t know what is proper to say, but I want you to know, I’m grateful. If you need me, I’ll be there. All of us will be there.”

  William nodded, uncomfortable. “Thank you.”

  They looked at each other. Silence stretched.

  “A drink?” William asked.

  Gustave exhaled. “Yes.”

  William went inside and brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. He filled the glasses. Gustave sampled his. “Good wine.”

  “Not as strong as the one at your house.”

  “Ahh, yes. I will miss that. We may have to make excursions into the Mire to gather the berries.”