“My apologies for the oversight. There have been issues with certain correspondences. I have yet to determine the cause.”
Reagan imagined his letters curling in the fire.
He stepped forward until only an arm’s length separated them. Madden’s shield shifted immediately, though the Order head lifted a quieting hand.
“I know you have her,” Reagan said low, his eyes tracking every flicker on the man’s lined face.
Giddeon Madden looked at least fifty years his senior. His long white hair spilled over a stark suit without a single rune, the kind of clothing only the profoundly self-assured would wear.
Every inch of him reeked of haughtiness. Reagan let his own power pulse a tad outward, just enough to be a warning.
“Who?” Madden asked in a mild tone.
“Perhaps you haven’t heard,” Reagan said calmly. “I’ve been looking for my wife.”
Giddeon inhaled, nostrils flaring at the human term. Whether Reagan had used it correctly didn’t matter. When Madden’s veneer faltered, he knew it had done the trick. Reagan tilted his head, fully aware the man would take it as an audacity.
“I didn’t realise you were pursuing a human union, My Lord.”
“I adopted the term,” Reagan replied with a slow click of his tongue. “I can appreciate an exchange when I see one.”
Madden stared at him as though Reagan were a sickness he meant to cure with a hex. “Well, I hope you find your chosen, My Lord.”
Reagan closed the last inches between them until they breathed the same charged air. “Almost all who conspiredagainst me are already in Pavilion. I saved the time weaver for last.” His voice settled into a lethal calm. “I know what you tried to do to me, and I know you have her. I have all the proof I need. If she isn’t standing in front of me in five seconds, unharmed, I won’t consider a bargain.” He let more of his mana spill against the Order leader. “I imagine the followers you discarded there because they stopped being useful will be very pleased to see you again.”
Giddeon Madden stood nearly eye to eye with him, a faint tobacco scent lingering around him. His face remained too still.
“As you can see,” Madden said, extending his arms, “I don’t have her. But if I knew where your half-breed was, so you could bind yourself to her and hand her some cursed land to rule, I would still keep that knowledge from you.” Madden’s eyes were intent, burning like their mark. “If shewerewith me, and I heard that you’d spread whatever false proof you have—that I’ve conspired against you—I can imagine certain associates would be very interested in her. For a time.”
Her voice chimed through Reagan’s mind.Self-restraint is a wise man’s trait.
He refused to drown beneath the roar of his flux. Refused to heed the beast insisting it would be so easy to tear the man open, to scorch him until his blood became steam wafting through the square.
The thought was tempting. But that would serve nothing except his own weakness, which was precisely what Madden wanted. Violence now wouldn’t bring her to him.
“You don’t want to harm her, Giddeon,” Reagan said lowly. “Because if you do, I will devote my entire life to burying your rotting legacy. I will dismantle you, and I will end you. Malory will put you in Pavilion so fast you won’t have time to lick your wounds. And when you’re there, I will see Ravenna McAllister isolated from the rest of the country. I already know enough tosink her.” He bared his teeth. “I’ll make war on that shitty estate she rules. Send a thousand Wraiths her way, the way she’s been sending mine.”
Madden’s jaw tightened, his chin lifting by a fraction. Reagan had the influence to back every one of those promises. And he could make life exquisitely difficult for Giddeon’s Lady.
He had him. He could almost watch the gears turn behind Madden’s eyes, the man calculating his next move.
At last, Madden’s expression settled into a decision. “It’s a pity,” he said with composed disdain, “that Sable Ilya didn’t rid Mountheim of the Reagans permanently when he sent those Wraiths for his sister.”
Reagan went still.
Giddeon’s mouth curved. “If only Mountheim were free of lords so intent on sullying their estate with half-breeds and human filth. Tell me, did you speak with your uncle after you killed your parents? Did you shake his hand when he offered his condolences? Did Nova Malory tell you who alerted her to your neglected responsibilities two years later?”
Reagan said nothing, couldn’t move.
Sable Ilya. Varian’s father and his mother’s sibling. He had commanded the ambush. Reagan had looked into his uncle at the time, ruled him out after finding him well away of the country. Either Giddeon was lying to get under his skin or telling the truth for the same purpose.
Varian’s words came back to him.
I guess we’re both doomed to be failures in our sire’s eyes.
Sable who had died peacefully at one hundred and twenty-one, cushioned by wealth and medicine, while Reagan’s mother had been granted less time because Sable had sent Wraiths to drain her. Nothing had ever traced back to him. Reagan had scoured every possibility.
But he had been fifteen and hadn’t known his uncle might have an accomplice, a man now standing in front of Reagan, one he fully intended to bury.
