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Charles’s eyes burn with that unshakable loyaltyof his. “We’re ready for whatever the Order demands, North.” His voice is steady, but I catch the flicker of something dark in his gaze. Hunger maybe. Or ambition. Maybe both.
I look around at them, my fellow Cardinals, young men with old souls, bound by secrets and blood oaths and ancient lineages that date back as far as the mid-1300s. “Remember, we must be seamless in our execution. The Order’s plans must advance without faltering.”
“Yes, North,” the three Cardinals say.
The inter-Cardinals remain quiet. They are here to observe now, not participate.
My eyes linger on South-West a moment longer than necessary. He is a freshman, whereas the others are second-years, and it shows. One day, he may move around the compass and end up at North, but he has a long way to go.
But that is why he is here.
“If any of you have doubts or fears,” I say with a slight edge, “now is the time to address them.” It’s a test and a threat all rolled into one.
Silence meets my challenge. Good.
“Very well.” I turn toward the exit, conscious of the stinging on my back with every movement—it’s a reminder of who I am and what I must do. “You all have your tasks.”
As I ascend from the depths of the room beneath the house into the deceptive brightness of day, I can feel the weight of responsibility settling over me. Alistair Gaight, Duke of KnightsGate and leader of anOrder that deals in shades of grey that often tend to be black.
It’s a weight that’s simultaneously invigorating and suffocating. But I don’t let it show as we pull our shirts on, ignoring the lashes as if they weren’t even there. Instead, I stride across the ground floor of the multi-million-pound townhouse on the edge of the main campus of the Royal Academy of KnightsGate with the confidence of someone who knows exactly where he’s going and why. After all, that’s precisely what they expect from me—assurance in the face of chaos.
From the window, I can see students lounging on the grass near the verge, the ancient KG building looming behind them like a fearsome watcher as their laughter pitches through the air. But it’s all superficial to me. These are pawns in a much larger game—unaware of the currents moving beneath them.
Benedict Harrington, Earl of Cumberfold, falls into place beside me, silent, observant, my right-hand man. He doesn’t need to speak; his presence is enough of a statement. We’re partners in this inherited darkness, bound by blood, loyalty and ambition.
“Do you think he’ll cave?” Benedict finally asks as Charles and Damien join us in the living room.
“He’s close,” I reply without hesitation. “But we’ll push him right to the edge first.”
Benedict nods, understanding without needing an explanation.
“What about Project True North?” Charles St.James, officially Viscount Beaumont, asks crisply, his face unreadable.
I glance at him sideways. “North-West is sure he can isolate her soon.”
“So he says, but if he fails?”
“He won’t.”
“You have a weird-ass trust in that kid,” Damien Wraith, Baron of Mere, mutters as he slumps onto the couch.
Snorting as the façade of North Cardinal drops away, I turn to him. “I see myself in that asshole. What can I say? He’s going to be a killer.”
“You’d better hope so. You’ve got a lot riding on him. If he turns out to be useless, the Order won’t be happy.”
“If he turns out to be useless, I will burn him myself, and North-East will take his place. And ifheturns out to be just as useless, then little South-West gets to shoot his shot.”
“You’re fucking mean,” Charlie remarks with a laugh. “That kid practically wets himself every time you speak to him, Your-Grace-Sir.”
Smirking, I breathe in deeply before I release it. “Call me that again, and I will kick your ass across campus so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”
“His presence here is of note,” Benedict says, turning away from the window to study me intently. “Freshmen almost never get into the Inner Circle.”
“Baptism by fire.”
Ben shakes his head. “There’s more to it that you’re not telling us.”
Fixing him with a death stare, I take satisfaction in seeing him back down. “If you needed to know, you’d know.”
