Read Online The Phenomenals: A Tangle of Traitors by F E Higgins - Free Book Online

away. Her mind was working furiously. Was it a coincidence that Florian had died so soon after the row with Edgar? She shook the suspicion from her mind.
Edgar might be cruel and selfish, but he was the only family she had left. She looked out for an Urban Guardsman, but where were they when you needed them? Probably all down at the Tar Pit. It
wasn’t unknown during the festival for some overenthusiastic revellers to get themselves into trouble on the tar-clagged shore. So she headed for home. Much as it galled her, she would have
to tell Edgar what had happened.
    Back at the Capodel Townhouse, her Trikuklos safely stowed, Citrine looked for her cousin, but he was nowhere to be found. She hurried upstairs; he was not in his room so she went to her own. As
soon as she stepped inside she noticed how cold it was. The French windows were wide open.
    Did I not close them? she wondered, and then her heart jumped violently in her chest;
there was someone on the balcony.
She looked around frantically for something with which to defend
herself. A black pluvitectum was leaning against the wall so she grabbed it. She saw two hands part the flapping curtains and she raised the pluvitectum above her head, ready to fend off the
intruder.
    ‘Whoa!’ said Edgar, disengaging himself from the curtains. ‘What’s that for? Expecting rain indoors?’
    Citrine lowered the makeshift weapon. ‘Domna, you gave me a shock!’ she exclaimed. She didn’t even bother to ask what he was doing in her room. ‘I have to talk to you;
something terrible has happened. Florian is dead!’
    Edgar closed the French windows very deliberately behind him. Small spots of red began to burn on his cheeks. ‘Dead? How do you know?’
    ‘I found him in his office tonight.’
    ‘You’ve been to his office? But it’s the middle of Nox!’ Edgar couldn’t hide his anger. The muscles in his cheeks were clenching and unclenching.
    ‘I think it was a robbery. It hadn’t long happened. Florian was still . . . warm.’
    ‘You need a drink,’ said Edgar, suddenly sounding concerned. ‘I took the liberty of bringing up a tray. Brandy is good for a shock.’
    Citrine saw then the silver tray on the dressing table and the decanter and two cut-crystal tumblers. Edgar turned his back to her and she heard the chink of the stopper. He faced her again and
handed her one of the glasses. Aware all the time of his eyes fixed on her, she sipped at the golden liquid. It burned and caused her to cough, but soon it began to warm her insides right down to
the bottom of her stomach. She took another, longer, draught. It was sweeter than she had thought it would be.
    Edgar appeared to have composed himself somewhat. ‘Have you told anyone of this? An Urban Guardsman perhaps?’
    ‘No, but shouldn’t we report this now?’
    Edgar brought his own glass to his mouth and allowed it to linger on his lips. Unconsciously Citrine mimicked him and took another drink. It was making her feel pleasantly warm inside, and a
little light-headed.
    ‘You were wrong to go out so late,’ said Edgar. ‘And on your own. Degringolade is a dangerous place, especially for a Capodel. Look what happened to your father.’
    Citrine put her hand to her head. She felt a little nauseous and was finding it difficult to concentrate. Edgar was watching her, his head cocked to one side. He looked amused. Later she
remembered thinking that it was an odd expression under the circumstances.
    ‘We don’t actually know what happened to Father,’ she said with a yawn. ‘Shouldn’t you be going to get a guardsman?’ She yawned again. It was hard to
stop.
    ‘Leave it all to me,’ continued Edgar easily. But he stayed where he was. He put down his drink and leaned back against the dressing table. He steepled his fingers and somehow they
looked different. Citrine knew that it meant something, but she couldn’t quite understand what. Now she felt sickeningly dizzy. There was a terrible rushing