His stomach churned. It was not only the meal, or the alienating luxury of the manor, or that altercation in the bathroom. It was the silk on his skin. The open door to the bathroom, where Linden showered. The condom on the bedside cabinet.
That he wanted no part of this was a crushing pressure cracking his ribs.
Linden emerged, mercifully dressed and drying his hair. “I suppose I’ll have to go speak with my parents about privacy. I’ll return shortly. Perhaps, then, we can finally spend time together properly.” He pressed a kiss to Briar’s forehead. By a strong resolve, Briar didn’t shiver at the touch or the oppressive fog of his aura.
Linden shut the doors. His footsteps receded like the ticking of a clock.
Briar swept the covers back and got out of bed. He pulled his tithe belt from his luggage and withdrew a feather—one of Vatii’s. Atticus was with Linden, and his hearing would be acute. So, with difficulty, Briar cast a spell that allowed him to pass without sound or trace, so long as he was careful and nobody saw him. He didn’t have a tithe powerful enough for invisibility, and it drained him terribly just to use the silencing one anyway.
Vatii whispered with pride, “I’m coming with you.”
The oiled hinges on the doors made no noise as he opened them. Vatii crouched on his shoulder. He hadn’t used the silencing spell on a bird before, and didn’t know if it would quiet her wings. Given his fragile state and the risk it could go wrong, they didn’t chance it.
Finding Linden would be difficult. Three stories and two wings, the east and west, to cover. From the exterior alone, Briar could tell that each had hidden depths—guest apartments, additions to accommodate growing art collections.
Linden had said the art galleries were in the east wing, so Briar guessed the residences wouldn’t share the same space and headed down the west hall.
No lights or open doors hinted where Linden had gone. Briar’s steps, silent instead of echoing cavernously, were eerie. These rooms could have anti-eavesdropping charms, so he might not hear voices to follow. The doors he tried were all locked regardless.
At the end of the hall, stairs led down to the floor below. He tried to mark the place in his mind so he could find his way back.
At the bottom, Briar saw the first sign of life. A sliver of yellow light cut through the gap in a door at the end of the hall, and from it issued voices. He crept closer. Headless, winged statues thronged the hall, and he kept to these as cover in case anyone came out the door. He recognized Linden’s voice first, loud enough to be heard several meters away.
“What have I said before? I do hate it when you undermine me.”
His parents’ side of the conversation was muffled, too difficult to hear. Briar gave Vatii a look. She was small and could fly closer, but it was unlikely she could do so without alerting Atticus. She shook her head.
Briar snuck closer, hiding behind the second-to-last statue. He could see, through the gap in the door, Linden standing with his back to them, Atticus seated at his heels. Both Adelaide and Gresham, still in their dinner clothes, looked fretful as their son laid into them. Briar thanked his luck that the hall was dark, but if Atticus turned, his lamp-like eyes would cut through it. Listening instead of looking was best. Briar pressed against the wall and held his breath.
“We only want what’s best for you, darling,” said Adelaide.
“And that stunt with Briar?”
“What your mother means is she fears the threat he poses. To you, to this family.”
Briar scowled. What threat could he possibly pose?
“I had that under control. It is your interrogations that have made him suspicious, so to my mind, it isyouwho poses the greater threat right now.”
“Linden, if you would only consider,” said Gresham, “the risks if your plan fails could be—”
“Careful.”
“—catastrophic. For us, but for you especially.”
“You doubt me? And why should that ever be a surprise? You’ve never had any faith.”
“We have had boundless faith in you!” Adelaide demurred. “We were happy to support you in every way we could throughout the duration of your Miracle Tour. We gave tithes of ourselves quite happily to make that all happen for you, don’t you remember?”
Gresham said, “If it was any other cursed boy—”
Briar strained so hard to hear, held his breath so tightly that the world went still.
“It cannot be any other. He’s the only Coill Darraghn.”
Gresham’s voice shook. “A Coill Darraghn with a close relationship to the alderman, who can read auras, and who lives inthathouse—”
“Silence!”
