Web of Lies: Trueborn Heirs Series Book 2

by Nyna Queen

“And then you call me, as cool as you please, and tell me they are safe! I have it under control—weren’t those your exact words?” Stephane stabbed a finger at Darken.

  In fact, they were. And you’d think that would have calmed him down a little.

  “So you can understand that I might have been a little surprised when I come here and the first thing I have to hear from my son is that there was another abduction attempt last night and that everybody almost got killed and only survived because—and I cite—‘Darken had a fit and slaughtered the lot of them!’”

  Ah, damn it, Max. Darken gritted his teeth. The boy had too big a mouth for his own good. Well. He had hoped to be able to break this news to his brother a little more … diplomatically but what was done was done.

  Stomping across the room, Stephane planted himself in front of Darken and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “That’s your definition of control? I should wring your freaking neck for this!”

  Few people would dare to threaten a forfeit in this way but his older brother had never cared about what he was. Having known these outbursts since their childhood, Darken just gave him a lazy smile.

  “Go ahead, brother, give it your best shot,” he said pleasantly. “I would hate to kill you but I’d make sure they give you a grand funeral.”

  Stephane sputtered. “You arrogant son of a bitch!”

  “I would feel insulted, but since it is our mother we’re talking about, I’m inclined to agree.”

  His brother let out a low growl. “If you weren’t already disowned, you should be disinherited, you ungrateful bastard of a son!”

  “I’m glad to see you too, brother,” Darken said dryly.

  Stephane’s nostrils flared.

  One moment they were standing apart, the next Darken was being crushed into a rib-cracking embrace that squeezed the air out of his lungs. Darken returned the pressure with equal force, making all words forgotten and forgiven.

  After a moment, Stephane eased his grip and stepped back slowly.

  “I thought I’d lost them, Darken,” he whispered in a rough voice full of the ghosts of a reality he had faced and hadn’t been able to bear. “I thought—for a while I thought …” He inhaled a shuddering breath and closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Darken’s.

  The image of Max’s lifeless body dangling from the arms of that mercenary flashed before Darken’s inner eye. His fingers dug into his brother’s shoulders.

  “They are alive,” he said to both of them. “They are safe. It’s over.”

  A sudden firm shove against his chest sent Darken stumbling back a couple of steps.

  “You—bastard!” His brother glowered at him. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me?”

  “I scared you?” Darken asked half amused, half incredulous, as he rubbed his pecs. “I believe, in this case, I wasn’t the cause of your misery. In fact, if I remember correctly, it was your son who teleported them halfway across the country.” And with that distance, it wasn’t exactly surprising that Edalyne hadn’t been able to locate them with her clairvoyance.

  Stephane looked liked he’d just swallowed a toad. “Boy can’t do a short distance teleportation in a classroom,” he muttered, “and now this?”

  “And it’s a stroke of luck, too,” Darken said in Max’s defense. “It probably saved their lives. And luckily he managed to phase them close to my location.”

  The temper finally drained out of his brother and Darken saw a man who had been walking the sharp edge of desperation these last couple of days.

  Stephane sighed. “Thanks, Dark. For being there. For saving them. I mean it, you know I do.”

  “The credit isn’t all mine to take,” Darken replied softly.

  Stephane arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Maxwell said something like that. But he kept using the words ‘awwwesome’ and ‘wicked’ in such a high frequency that it was rather difficult to follow.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it true then? Did that shaper really help them?”

  Leaning his hip against the table, Darken nodded. “Her name is Alex and, yes, without her we’d most likely be celebrating a much darker occasion right now. One with sealed wooden boxes.”

  His brother blew out his breath, digesting this bit of information. “I see. So, where is this shaper everybody seems so keen to talk about?”

  A rap sounded on the door.

  Darken tensed. “Speak of the devil.”

  “Come!” his brother bellowed, a sound known to make hardened politicians wince.

  Alex entered. She was fastening a hair tie around her white-blond hair and her hairline was wet, probably from quickly splashing some water onto her face. She was still dressed in her workout clothes, though, and Darken wished she’d taken the time to change into something a bit more … conservative. At least she’d found a light jacket to cover her shoulders with but it wasn’t zipped up and her outfit still showed way too much skin to be considered appropriate for a meeting such as this. She looked fierce and sexy and dangerous—and not at all how he’d wanted to present her to his brother.

  Over the scent of soap, he smelled a hint of sweat drifting off her skin, clean and feminine and slightly musky, and his whole body came to attention in response, tightening with possessive longing. It made him forget everything but her. And the painful awareness that he couldn't have her.

  Beside him, his brother’s eyes widened while his lips flattened with something between shock and scandal as he took in her snowy hair, her barely covered decollete, her toned stomach …

  A soft, warning growl rolled through the room. It was only when both Stephane and Alex turned toward him with puzzled expressions that Darken realized it was coming from his own throat. He quickly stifled the sound, fighting for control.

  Rein it in, old son!

  Stephane looked from him to Alex and back, with a more thoughtful expression now.

  Darken clenched his hands into fists, letting the subtle pain anchor him in the present, and pushed all emotions back deep into their cage.

  He cleared his throat. His voice still sounded a little strained as he raised his hand. “Brother, please meet Alexis Harper. Alex”—he gestured—“this is my brother, Stephane Marquel Laurent Sebastien Adrien Dubois-Léclaire, Senator of Lancaester, Lord of Ciradell and Arkmunster, Holder of the Valorian Cross second grade for services to the Republic, honorable member of the Committee of Equality and Inclusion, and designated governor of the Southern Provinces.”

  ALEX stared at the man standing beside Darken, who likewise scrutinized her through narrowed eyes.

  Almost equal in height but at least two inches wider in the shoulders, he seemed almost brawny beside Darken’s leaner build. His dark-gold mane of hair fell onto his wide shoulders and bushy blond eyebrows shadowed his adamant green eyes. Attractive, but nowhere near the badass sexiness of his brother. They might not have much in common appearance-wise, except for a vague likeness in features, but when Alex gazed into his eyes she saw the same sharp predatory nature. If Darken was a panther, then his brother was a lion. A roaring, prancing, strutting lion. Who, right now, was looking at her as if she’d invaded his pride and threatened his cubs.

  Alex realized that it was probably on her to say something. How did you address a senator? Perhaps they were old-fashioned and curtsied? But she wouldn’t do that. No sir!

  Raising a hand, she said, “Hi,” and then wanted to kick her own ass. Hi? What kind of idiot said “hi” to a member of the royal elite, especially to the senator of Lancaester and designated—whatever else he was.

  Trying to soften her blunder, Alex pulled out some manners and quickly held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Stephane glared at her outstretched hand without taking it. “We shall see if it is a pleasure.”

  Charming! Just like his brother.

  “However,” he went on, crossing his arms in front of his muscular chest. “I decided to listen first before I make up my mind who’s to be honored and who�
��s to be executed.” He lingered a bit too long on the last word for Alex’s comfort. Her hand numbly sank to her side.

  “That is very accommodating of you, brother,” Darken said with a neutral expression on his face.

  His brother gave him a fierce smile. “I’m in a particularly generous mood today.”

  Alex looked from one man to the other, unsure whether to be annoyed or alarmed. Executed? They were teasing, right? She swallowed. They must be teasing. On the other hand, this senator-guy probably had the authority to execute whomever he bloody pleased.

  “Shall we?” Stephane pointed to the round table without taking his eyes off his brother. To Alex, it sounded like she was about to be put in the dock. Her mouth went dry.

  At that moment, the door flew open. Josy was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath.

  Instead of the grungy sports outfit, she’d changed into a puffy peach dress that frothed around her figure like an exploded sugar cake, hiding most of her emaciated body. And was that some makeup on her face, covering the dark circles underneath her eyes and giving her cheeks and lips some well-needed blush?

  “Daddy!” The kid dashed through the room and flung herself into her father’s arms, taking his neck into a stranglehold.

  The most wondrous thing happened: That glacial scowl melted from Stephane’s face like butter in the sun as he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly, covering her hair with kisses—and for a second Alex was back in her sire’s house again, and he patted her small blond head. One of those rare stolen moments of affection. Alex’s breast contracted painfully.

  “Hello, pumpkin.” Stephane tried to take a look at his daughter, but she clung to him forcefully with both arms. “How are you, sweetums?” There was a hint of worry in his voice.

  Josy gave him a dazzling smile through her hair. Damn, she really knew how to knee a man in the groin that way. Stephane looked like he wanted to sink to his knees. Alex almost laughed, except that would have reverted his attention to her.

  “I’m alright, Daddy, really,” Josy said a little too dismissively. The kid was anything but fine, but she sure put on a good show. “Just exhausted,” she admitted and wrinkled her nose. “The last few days were quite hectic.”

  Understatement of the century.

  Hooking a finger around her father's collar, she tugged at it coyly, looking up through her dark lashes. “Daddy, please don’t be mad at Alex. It’s not her fault she got involved in all of this. All she did was help. We’re only alive because of her. Uncle Darken can confirm it. Right, uncle?”

  Alex’s mouth dropped open. The little darling was putting on this show to get her into her daddy’s good graces. Well, look at that. That’s what a one-eighty looked like. Now, if Lancaester’s senator was as smitten by his daughter as he appeared to be, she might actually survive this day.

  Stephane opened his mouth just as the door opened again and Hector pushed a tea-wagon with pots and cups and a platter of delicious looking cookies into the room, setting up the table.

  “Eady’s still with Max?” Darken asked casually as Josy untangled herself from her father.

  Stephane nodded with a grunt. “And I don’t think she’ll let go of him for the next couple of hours. She was quite distraught, as you can imagine. Not that he minds the attention.”

  “Well, he is still her baby,” Darken said.

  “That he is,” his brother agreed. “And where do you think you are going, young lady?”

  Josy froze at the door, one hand clutching the handle, and looked back over her shoulder with huge pleading eyes. “I … uhm—I was only—”

  “Yes?”

  “Well—”

  “You came to play advocate? Then you may as well sit with the adults.” Her father pointed his chin to one of the free chairs.

  Visibly baffled, Josy let go of the door and obediently slunk over, taking a seat at the edge of the chair, looking as if she was only waiting for the right moment to bolt.

  The old butler offered the girl coffee and she automatically held out her cup. When he went on to serve Darken, she took a sip, wrinkled her nose with massive disgust, and, when she thought everyone else was distracted, quickly added liberal amounts of milk and sugar.

  “Anything else, sir?” Hector asked once they had all been served.

  “That is all. Thank you, Hector,” said Stephane.

  The butler bowed and left with the tea-wagon, closing the door behind him.

  “Very well.” Stephane placed his palms on the tabletop and looked at each of them in turn. “Would someone finally have the grace to tell me what happened? The full story.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “THIS is outrageous!”

  Stephane circled the room. They had recounted the events of the last days and at some point, Darken’s brother had jumped up from his chair and started pacing like a caged tiger, growling and spitting. Alex had the feeling that if a stonewall were to appear in front of him, he’d plow right through it.

  “To go after my children … Playing us like … And to spread such ludicrous lies!” He turned sharply and came back toward the table. “The impertinence!”

  Darken leaned forward, his face calm. “I understand your anger, brother. But instead of getting carried away, we should focus on the instigators of this scheme.”

  His brother stopped, nostrils flaring. “They can attack me, but nobody—nobody—attacks my children and gets away scot-free! When I get a hold of them, they will regret the cursed day that they were born!”

  “For that, we need to identify them first,” Darken noted dryly.

  “Well, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

  Alex immediately regretted speaking up when two pairs of very different eyes focused on her with the exact same predatory intensity.

  “Meaning what?” Stephane asked sharply.

  Oh, please! Alex almost rolled her eyes. After Darken had let them in on what he’d gotten out of the kid, who he had, well, blown to pieces outside the Pacified Zone, it wasn’t really that hard to put two and two together—unless, of course, it was a conclusion you didn’t want to make.

  “Hmm, let’s see.” Alex tapped a nail against her lip, pretending to be in deep thought. “Who would benefit enormously if you were to withdraw your candidacy? Oh”—she looked at them pointedly—“I can think of someone.”

  “Do you know what you are implying?” Stephane asked stiffly.

  “Sugar, I know damn well what I am implying.”

  If possible, Stephane’s gaze chilled even more. “You are accusing some of the highest-ranking peers of the realm of a number of the most abhorrent crimes imaginable: attempted kidnapping, murder … and a couple of other more than despicable actions.”

  Interesting he should mention this.

  “Crimes are not only committed by bums and shapers,” Alex snorted. “And last time I checked, being a hotshot in politics doesn’t exactly turn people into saints. Quite the contrary, in fact.”

  Stephane opened his mouth, no doubt to reprimand her again—after all, he was one of those political hotshots, but Darken cut in. “I have to agree with Alex,” he said. “Someone wants you to revoke your candidacy and we all know who would benefit from that. And whoever is behind this has pull and influence, and not just within the media. I checked the guardaí database this morning and the dead impostors in Bhellidor are listed among the recently deceased. That’s not something you just arrange on the side. A manipulation like this is both complicated and costly, and you’d need to be well connected in the Department of the Interior. This whole thing was organized with great care and involved a high risk. That’s not the kind of risk you take if it wasn’t worth the game.”

  Falling back into his chair, Stephane raked a hand through his dark-gold mane and sighed, suddenly looking tired. “To be quite honest, I wouldn’t put it beyond most of my fellow parliamentarians to cook up a scheme like this. All the dirt I’ve seen … The Blind Child only knows how many assas
sination attempts I’ve had to dodge these last couple of months. I guess using my children to manipulate me is just the next logical step on that scale. Though I must admit, I wouldn’t have expected them to sink so low. There is simply no end to the abyss of man-made atrocities.”

  For a politician, he seemed to be quite righteous. Or rather naive.

  At the other end of the table, Darken steepled his long fingers.

  “Provided you’d drop out of the race at this stage of the election—who would still have a fair chance of winning?”

  His brother sat still for a moment, considering.

  “Senator Alistair Devilier has always been my main opponent. We have been closely matched from the very beginning. Alistair holds a firm hand on the north-eastern provinces of the South—the whole conservative bunch. In particular the older voters. They don’t like my liberal approach.” He grimaced. “A couple of weeks ago, I would have said that he is the only one who could become really dangerous to me … Now?” He spread his hands and shrugged. “My renewed refusal to agree to the shaper regulations has led to a crash in the latest polls, especially after the Manor Creek murders. And now this whole mess …” He shook his head. “People say if I cannot even keep my own family safe, how am I planning to govern the whole South?

  “This has given all the other candidates a boost, not just Alistair. Which is why we definitely shouldn’t discount the Sauniers.” Stephane took a cookie from the plate, broke it in the middle and dipped one half into his coffee. “Henry Saunier, our dear senator of Warlington, isn’t the smartest out there, but his wife, Elizabeth, she’s an opponent to be reckoned with. She’s the one holding the family reins, the intriguer, and Henry is dancing to her tune. Oh, I bet she’d have run for the governor position herself, if only he wasn’t the one from the stronger-blooded side of the family. It must be secretly nettling her. The Sauniers have been drooling over the governorship for years now and, who knows, this year they might actually stand a chance. Word is, Elizabeth would like to see their daughter married to the prime’s son, and being the daughter of the governor or the South certainly would make a convincing argument in that regard.”