“Precisely. They decide who the years’ female initiates will be and who they’ll marry.”
“Did you know your son was selected to have a wife?”
“I’m on the council, so of course I did.”
“And did you agree with his choice of bride?”
“I didn’t, actually. This year’s picks are bred from scum—” His mouth tightens. “I didn’t mean that.”
“What is it that offends you? Her Russian blood or that she’s tied to the mafia?”
“Neither enamor me if you must know. Please, can’t you let me down? I don’t feel well!”
The man’s entitlement has me laughing. “I cut off your ear, Harrington.This is me torturing you. I’m not your Dom.” I angle closer to him. “But to clarify the situation, I don’t give a fuck if you feel well or not. You’re lucky that I had you moved last night so you wouldn’t lose your hands and feet.
“Now, what would you say if I told you your son didn’t like his choice of bride either?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. I raised him to expect the best.”
“I’m glad we agree.”
Harrington stills. “What do we agree on?”
“That you’re to blame for the way he turned out.”
“Now, see here?—”
“I don’t have to see anything. Your boy’s dead,BrotherTheodoric?—”
“What?! NO!”
“Oh, yes. I told her to kill him and like a good little soldier, she did.” I smirk at him. “Didn’t expect that, did you? That the intended victim would become the attacker?”
“You can’t be serious. You’re lying to me,” he implores. “Please, tell me you’re lying. I’ll give you whatever you want?—”
“It won’t bring your son back.” His inner masochist made it hard to torture him. This news shatters something my knife couldn’t reach. Doesn’t mean I can’t twist the verbal blade: “She slit his throat. Stood over him while he bled out. Earned herself a red cloak. What does that mean?”
“A red cloak?” he echoes, scandalized. “You’re telling me they anointed her?!”
“I assumed it was a show of strength. Why do I feel that’s not the case?”
“It’s a show of dominance. Over the other initiates. It means she’ll get through to the third rite even if she fucks up the second.”
“Your darling boy would have killed her.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“He was aiming for kill shots. Don’t tell me I didn’t understand what I was seeing.”
“They let you vouch for her,” he says dully.
I hum. “Didn’t expect that either, did you?”
“Frankly, no.”
“Unfortunately for you, my networking capabilities have gained me a lot of friends in high places. And I’m a generous man. The Veronians will learn how generous I can be soon enough.”
“Why am I here?!” he roars, shaking his cuffs, rattling his bindings.
