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Authors: Bec McMaster
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did was tell Drake that he'd never see his child alive, if he tried to press through this divorce or her verdict. Drake was furious, of course, and presented his case to the Order. They ruled in his favor, and the Queen granted him his divorce in parliament." Lady Eberhardt's eyes grew sad. "None of us truly thought she'd go through with her threats. The next day, her guards were found murdered. Morgana had vanished, and a week later, the body of Drake's unborn son arrived in a box. Drake swore then, that if Morgana ever returned to these shores, she would be arrested and executed immediately by the Order for treason. The order is still signed."
The room fell silent.
"How on earth do you know all of this?" Rathbourne demanded.
Lady Eberhardt sipped her tea, looking amused. "Before I married my last husband, I served as one of the three councilors for the Order. I signed that execution warrant, my boy, and I'm privy to an entire host of secrets that nobody else knows."
"So if Morgana is back on this side of the Channel, then she's here for a reason," Ianthe murmured.
Rathbourne stroked his chin, his eyes hard and flat. "I wonder what that reason is?"
A little chill started, somewhere in the middle of Ianthe's chest.
A chill that said: Louisa.
A chill that remembered the man who'd quite rudely bumped into her in the street but two weeks ago and slipped her a piece of the little girl's black hair, and said, “We want you to bring us the Blade of Altarrh. Otherwise, you will never see your child again.”
Ianthe had raced home to gather herself before she told Drake, when she'd found a note in her room .
'Tell anyone, and she dies. We have eyes watching you and the Prime to ensure you behave. Trust no one. Expect anyone. You will receive further instructions, when you have stolen the relic. We will contact you. We will know.'
Ianthe fingered the locket at her throat, where her one portrait of the girl resided. She was barely a mother—she could never claim that—but they had struck her where she was most vulnerable, and now she was playing a dangerous game of trying to keep a half dozen cups in the air. She had to wait until her blackmailers contacted her before she could give them the relic, but in the meantime, Drake had saddled her with Lucien as a partner.
"Morgana," she said, in a somewhat hoarse voice. She'd never recognized the man in the street and had wondered who this shadowy organization was who had stolen her daughter and murdered poor Jacob and Elsa, Louisa's adoptive parents.
Could Drake's ex-wife have anything to do with this?
If so, then what was Ianthe going to do? There was no one to help her. No one. Not even Drake. She couldn't trust any of the sorcerers around her, for if the note was true, and there was someone close to Drake who was watching her, then she might do something inadvertent and reveal her hand. Then they'd kill her daughter. The only one...
Her thoughts stalled as Ianthe looked up in horror at the hard edges of Rathbourne's face. The only sorcerer she knew who couldn't possibly be involved was Rathbourne.
Could she trust him? He'd said himself that he wanted revenge against both Ianthe and the Prime. Would the safety of an unknown child matter to him? His child?
The truth was that Ianthe didn't know. She didn't know Rathbourne well enough to trust that he would help her win her daughter back over the possibility of taking revenge on his own father.
Wait , a little part of her whispered. Wait a few more days and see what kind of man he is ...
But what if they wanted the relic before then?
"Are you all right?"
Ianthe blinked and realized that those hawkish amber eyes were watching her as if he'd picked up on her emotional distress. She froze, the pretty locket trapped in her fingers as she stared back at him. "Yes. Yes, I... I'm just surprised to learn that she's back. What if Morgana set this in place? What if she gets her hands on the Blade?" Her voice became particularly
The room fell silent.
"How on earth do you know all of this?" Rathbourne demanded.
Lady Eberhardt sipped her tea, looking amused. "Before I married my last husband, I served as one of the three councilors for the Order. I signed that execution warrant, my boy, and I'm privy to an entire host of secrets that nobody else knows."
"So if Morgana is back on this side of the Channel, then she's here for a reason," Ianthe murmured.
Rathbourne stroked his chin, his eyes hard and flat. "I wonder what that reason is?"
A little chill started, somewhere in the middle of Ianthe's chest.
A chill that said: Louisa.
A chill that remembered the man who'd quite rudely bumped into her in the street but two weeks ago and slipped her a piece of the little girl's black hair, and said, “We want you to bring us the Blade of Altarrh. Otherwise, you will never see your child again.”
Ianthe had raced home to gather herself before she told Drake, when she'd found a note in her room .
'Tell anyone, and she dies. We have eyes watching you and the Prime to ensure you behave. Trust no one. Expect anyone. You will receive further instructions, when you have stolen the relic. We will contact you. We will know.'
Ianthe fingered the locket at her throat, where her one portrait of the girl resided. She was barely a mother—she could never claim that—but they had struck her where she was most vulnerable, and now she was playing a dangerous game of trying to keep a half dozen cups in the air. She had to wait until her blackmailers contacted her before she could give them the relic, but in the meantime, Drake had saddled her with Lucien as a partner.
"Morgana," she said, in a somewhat hoarse voice. She'd never recognized the man in the street and had wondered who this shadowy organization was who had stolen her daughter and murdered poor Jacob and Elsa, Louisa's adoptive parents.
Could Drake's ex-wife have anything to do with this?
If so, then what was Ianthe going to do? There was no one to help her. No one. Not even Drake. She couldn't trust any of the sorcerers around her, for if the note was true, and there was someone close to Drake who was watching her, then she might do something inadvertent and reveal her hand. Then they'd kill her daughter. The only one...
Her thoughts stalled as Ianthe looked up in horror at the hard edges of Rathbourne's face. The only sorcerer she knew who couldn't possibly be involved was Rathbourne.
Could she trust him? He'd said himself that he wanted revenge against both Ianthe and the Prime. Would the safety of an unknown child matter to him? His child?
The truth was that Ianthe didn't know. She didn't know Rathbourne well enough to trust that he would help her win her daughter back over the possibility of taking revenge on his own father.
Wait , a little part of her whispered. Wait a few more days and see what kind of man he is ...
But what if they wanted the relic before then?
"Are you all right?"
Ianthe blinked and realized that those hawkish amber eyes were watching her as if he'd picked up on her emotional distress. She froze, the pretty locket trapped in her fingers as she stared back at him. "Yes. Yes, I... I'm just surprised to learn that she's back. What if Morgana set this in place? What if she gets her hands on the Blade?" Her voice became particularly
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