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They both ignored him. “And look at here.” Salem pressed his fingers into the middle of Cord’s back. “Is that a lock?”
“It looks like it,” Salem said excitedly. “So where’s the key?”
“There’s a game humans let their children play, it’s calledWhere’s Waldo,” Cord growled as he was inspected.
“Huh?” Sloane said distractedly. “Be quiet, Cord. Salem, look here.” His voice was serious.
“What do you think it means?” Salem asked as his fingers ran over Cord’s skin again.
Cord felt another set of fingers trace the design on his back and felt his patience running out. “Are you done?” he asked sarcastically.
“No,” they both answered.
Cord had had enough. With a curse, he lowered his shirt and pulled his robes on. “Too bad.”
“But...” Sloane protested and then closed his mouth when he saw his brother’s harsh scowl. “Later.”
“Are you ready for this?” Salem asked with a jerk of his head to the door.
“No,” Cord answered truthfully. “Are you?”
“No.” Salem gave him a rare smile. “Thankfully, we are merely observers. The Sisters will detect the truth, Council Elder Warren will ask the questions, the remaining Council Elders will listen and judge.”
“And no one will be concerned that I am there?” Sloane asked self-consciously.
“You are at present the Heir to one of the three Houses that govern this Territory under the Northern Headquarters, so you are here by default, not because of your relationship to the accused.”
“The accused.” Sloane swallowed as he looked away. “How did it become this?” he asked his brother and saw Cord’s understanding as he gave him a sympathetic smile.
“Mother?” Cord asked.
“Sedated,” Salem told him gently. “The Three questioned her late last evening. Your mother has sympathies with Cornelius’s beliefs, but of having an alliance with the Drakhyn, she knew nothing.”
“Thank the Ancients for that at least,” Sloane said carefully. “She will not survive this,” he said with a look to Cord.
“I thought,” Salem began and then cleared his throat. “I thought I may offer my mother’s home for her recuperation.” Salem felt uncomfortable. “Delilah has always been ambitious. Her marriage to Olezka was a true match, not bonded, but their connection was real. She was devastated when he passed. Her family was one uncle, and he has long since died. The House of Lebedev never accepted her, old blood, proud blood. And reluctant to leave their homeland. Even for a gifted child.” Salem looked at Cord with sympathy. “It hardened Delilah, and Cornelius recognised your talents long before anyone else.”
“You think my mother is guilty only through her poor choice of husband?” Cord asked stiffly.
“No, I think she needed support and a family when her husband died. And that family spurned her, which is why you do not accept them now as an adult even though you bear your father’s name.”
“There is only a handful left,” Cord said bitterly. “I take my father’s name, not their House.”
“You’ve made that very clear,” Salem acknowledged. “Delilah is not innocent, but she is not as...lost as Cornelius is.”
A heavy silence hung amongst them as they were all lost in their own thoughts. “Your offer of your mother’s house is a generous one,” Sloane said after a while. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Salem smiled sadly. “I too have a debt to pay to the House of Ivanov.” He clasped both males on the shoulder. “Come, we don’t want to be late. Sloane, despite what I said earlier, either today or tomorrow, I will formally petition your final Trial. I would very much likethisHouse Ivanov to be an Elder of my territory.”
Sloane looked at Cord in excitement, and Cord nodded minutely in agreement. “I am ready,” he told them both.
“You are,” Salem said with pride. He sighed as he looked at the door. “I don’t think we can delay much longer,” he added ruefully.
“No,” Cord agreed as he placed his hands in the pockets of his robes after drawing the hood over his head. “Let’s go witness a trial for a traitor.”
The three of them walked along the silent hallways, which had been a childhood home to two of them. As they walked, they passed some House Akrhyn who looked upon both brothers with trepidation. They had all been tested by the Great Council and the Principal Elder for their involvement and their beliefs. Some had not returned from the questioning rooms.
The Principal Elder of the Northern Territory walked with confidence, his black Sentinel clothing nondescript apart from the single deep blue braided thread that ran down one arm of his formal jacket. On his left was a tall crimson-robed Castor, who even though his hood hid his features, all that he passed knew who he was. To the right of the Principal Elder was the Heir of the House, tall, and broader of shoulder, his physique was not what made him stand out. Known for always being quick to smile and laugh, the seriousness of the day was marked on Sloane’s solemn features; however, he did not shy away from the stares. All three entered the chamber assured and prepared for anything.
