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“She was not a saint, Castor.”
“I said, enough!”
“And what of poor Gillian? She did nothing to Mother. She is an innocent,” Ivy pressed. “And yet, her life still hangs in the balance as well. What was it she did to earn your wrath?”
Castor was silent for a moment, and Ivy thought she saw flickers of regret cross his face. He had liked Gillian as well, and he looked like the thought of her being poisoned brought him pain.
“Yes. That was unfortunate,” he said softly. “But in war, there are always casualties.”
“Oh, is that what you fancy this is? War?”
“For the soul and honor of our House,” he replied. “Yes. It is war.”
“Wars are fought by honorable men upon a field of battle,” Ivy hissed. “Not by assassins skulking in the shadows, just waiting for a chance to poison somebody. It is a coward’s way, Castor.”
His face darkened, and his eyes were like hot coals, searing everything in their path as he looked at her. If looks could kill, Ivy knew she would have been dead ten times over. He looked at her with undisguised hatred. Loathing. If it had not been for the bounty she would bring him, she thought he would have had her head off right then and there.
“What do you know of war anyway?” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
They both fell silent, and Castor continued to stare daggers through her. Ivy looked away, not able to look him in the eye. What she said was true, though. Her mother took her own life. She alone was responsible for her death. Perhaps this supposed affair with the Duke was a contributing factor, but he did not kill her, and as such, he did not deserve to die for it.
“Where is your handmaiden?” Castor asked.
Ivy cocked her head and looked at her brother, the sudden change in conversation throwing her.
“Wh - what are you talking about?”
“Mira? Tall woman with golden hair and blue eyes? Usually attached to your hip?” Castor mocked. “Where is she, dear Sister?”
She had hoped Castor would not notice Mira’s absence for a while yet. That he had already looked for her and found her missing was a bad sign. It also told Ivy that Mira was a loose end he could not afford to have around, which meant he likely intended to kill her. It made her doubly glad that she had sent her to York. At least Ivy knew she was safe.
“How would I know?” Ivy asked. “I’ve been locked up in here.”
“Did she come to see you?”
“No,” the lie came easily to her lips, but Castor saw through her.
“Where did she go?” he asked. “Where did you send her?”
Ivy remained silent and looked away from him, her jaw clenched, a dark hatred for her brother forming in the pit of her belly. She did not want to hate Castor. He was her brother. Her only blood family. She did not want to feel hatred and contempt for her only family in the world.
But he was making it her feel that way. With his murderous plots and plans to build his own wealth and prestige upon the bodies of others, she felt nothing but disgust when she looked at him.
“Where is Mira?” he pressed.
“I do not know.”
“Do not lie to me, Ivy,” he said through gritted teeth. “Where is she?”
As Castor leaned forward, pure malice in his eyes, Ivy recoiled. She pressed herself as far back against the wall as she could, willing herself to somehow melt into the stone. Her brother’s face was a shade of scarlet she only saw before he erupted in fury and it frightened her.
Ivy did not think, at that point, it mattered. He could not stop Mira. She was either at York already, or would be there soon enough. And after that, Fin would be coming for her. Whether Castor knew that or not probably did not make much of a difference since there was nothing he could do to stop it anyway. The die had already been cast.
Ivy took a deep breath and let it out, allowing her logical mind to take control of her. Although Castor frightened her, she was confident he would not do her any serious harm. He was relying on her to help bolster his fortune and to provide him with a strategic ally, as well as control of the north. Indeed, the expansion of Elix’s control and esteem at Court relied on her marriage to Baron Weedler. So no, he would not hurt her.
“I sent her to York,” she said simply.
“For what purpose?”
