Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
OLIVER
We spend the rest of the day in Primsyn's study, going over every scenario, every potential solution. None of them work. All of them end with us separated or worse.
By evening, we're both exhausted and no closer to an answer.
"I could just kill him," I suggest for the third time.
"And then what?" Primsyn doesn't even look up from the papers she's been staring at for the last hour. "You'd be executed. I'd be ruined for harboring a murderer. The council would seize my estate."
"But you'd be free of him."
"I don't want to be free of him at the cost of your life." She finally looks at me, her eyes red-rimmed. "Stop suggesting suicide missions."
I lean back in my chair, frustrated. The sun has set, darkness pressing against the windows. We're running out of time.
"There has to be something we're missing," I mutter. "Some leverage against him. Some way to turn this around."
"Thrain is powerful, Oliver. He has the council's ear. Even if we had something on him, who would believe us? A widow and her livestock against a respected councilman?"
A knock at the door interrupts us. Corvask enters, his expression grave.
"Madam, one of the human servants came to me with information. About Councilman Thrain."
Primsyn sits up straighter. "What kind of information?"
"It seems he has...proclivities. Violent ones. Several of his livestock have died under suspicious circumstances over the years. The servant used to work in his household before being sold to us. She was too afraid to speak up before, but hearing about today's visit..."
My mind races. "That's it!"
"It's hearsay," Primsyn says, but I can see hope in her eyes. "There’s no proof."
"Then we get proof." I stand. "We break into his estate, find evidence, and use it to force him to back off."
"Break into a councilman's estate." She stares at me. "That's your plan?"
"You have a better one?"
Silence. She doesn't.
"I can do it," I press. "I'm good at moving unseen. I survived in the wild for years by staying hidden. And I’m extremely motivated. If we don't find something on him, I'm dead anyway."
"Oliver..."
"It's our only shot." I kneel beside her chair again, taking her hands. "Let me do this. Let me fight for us."
She looks at me for a long moment, conflicted. Then she turns to Corvask. "Bring the servant here. I want to hear everything they know about Thrain's household. Guard rotations, layout, where he keeps his private records."
Corvask bows and leaves.
Primsyn's hands tighten on mine. "If you get caught..."
"I won't."
"But if you do, they'll kill you. Publicly. As an example."
"Then I won't get caught." I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. "Trust me."
In the next two hours, I have a full layout of Thrain's estate, guard schedules, and the location of his private study where he keeps personal records. The servant, a middle-aged woman named Tessa, provides detailed information about his habits, his schedule, everything we need.
"He keeps trophies," she says, her hands trembling. "From the ones who didn't survive. Jewelry, locks of hair. Hidden in a locked drawer in his desk. He didn’t think anyone knew, but I saw. Before he sold me, I saw."
Physical evidence. Perfect.
"Thank you," Primsyn tells her. "You've been very brave coming to me."
After Tessa leaves, Primsyn turns to me. "You're really going to do this?"
"Yes."
"Tonight?"
"No time like the present. Every hour we wait is an hour closer to his deadline." I check the knives Corvask procured for me, testing their weight. "Besides, he won't expect anyone to move against him this quickly."
"I'm coming with you."
"Absolutely not." I look at her as if she's lost her mind. "You'll slow me down, and if we're both caught—"
"I know his household better than you do.
I've attended social functions there. I can get us in through the servants' entrance.
" She stands, moving to a wardrobe and pulling out dark clothing.
"And before you argue, remember that this is my freedom on the line too.
I'm not sitting here waiting while you risk everything. "
I want to argue. Want to refuse. But I can see her determination, the steel beneath her usual composure.
"Fine. But you follow my lead. Do exactly what I say, when I say it. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
She changes quickly, trading her formal attire for simple dark trousers and a tunic. With her hair braided back and no jewelry, she looks like a different person. Younger. Less untouchable.
"Ready?" I ask.
She takes a deep breath. "Ready."
Corvask provides us with a carriage, one without house markings. He looks ill with worry but doesn't try to stop us.
"Be careful, Madam. Both of you."
The ride to Thrain's estate is tense and silent. I go over the plan again in my head, checking for flaws, for things we might have missed. Beside me, Primsyn sits rigid, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
"Hey." I cover her hands with one of mine. "We're going to be fine."
"You can't promise that."
"No. But I can promise I'll do everything in my power to keep us both safe."
The carriage slows, stopping a few streets away from Thrain's estate. We exit, moving through the shadows. The night is cold and a light rain falls, helping to cover our tracks.
Thrain's estate is massive, even larger than Primsyn's. Tall walls, multiple guard posts, gardens that sprawl in every direction. Breaking in won't be easy.
But I've done harder things.
We circle to the eastern wall where Tessa said the servants' entrance is located. Two guards patrol this section, but their rotation is predictable. We wait in the shadows, rain soaking through our clothes, until they pass.
"Now," I whisper.
We scale the wall. Primsyn is more agile than I expected, keeping up without complaint. On the other side, we drop into a garden, using the foliage for cover.
The servants' entrance is ahead, a small door that Tessa assured us would be unlocked. Servants use it throughout the night for various tasks, so it's never secured.
Our luck holds, we reach it without incident. I ease the door open, listening. Voices in the distance, the clatter of dishes being cleaned. The servants are still working, which means we need to be careful.
Primsyn leads now, navigating the servants' corridors with confidence. She knows where we're going, knows which turns to take. We pass a few servants, but Primsyn handles them with quiet authority, as if she has every right to be here.
They don't question her. To them, she's still elite, still someone who commands respect.
Finally, we reach a wider corridor. Primsyn points to a door at the end. "That's his study. It should be empty. He's likely in the main house entertaining guests."
"Should be?"
"Nothing is certain." She meets my eyes. "But it's our best chance."
We approach the door carefully. I press my ear against it, listening. Nothing. No movement, no voices.
I try the handle. Locked.
"Of course." I pull out the tools Corvask provided, working the lock. It takes longer than I'd like, my hands slick with rain and sweat, but finally I hear the click.
The door swings open.
Thrain's study is opulent, all dark wood and expensive furnishings with shelves of books lining the walls. A massive desk dominates the center of the room. Everything here screams power and wealth.
"The locked drawer," Primsyn reminds me. "Bottom left according to Tessa."
I move to the desk while she keeps watch at the door. The drawer is indeed locked, a more complex mechanism than the door. My picks work carefully, trying not to damage anything that might alert him later.
Click. And the drawer slides open.
And there, exactly as Tessa described, is a collection of items. Jewelry, strands of hair tied with ribbon, even a few teeth. Each item labeled with dates and names.
"Gods," Primsyn breathes, moving closer. "He really is a monster."
"This is perfect. Exactly what we need." I begin to gather the items, careful to document what's there. "He can't explain this away. This is proof of multiple murders."
"Come on. We need to move fast."
A sound in the corridor freezes us both. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. Coming closer.
"Someone's coming," Primsyn hisses.
"Hide." With no time to gather all the evidence, I shove everything back into the drawer and shut it, not bothering to lock it.
We duck behind a tall cabinet in the corner just as the door opens. Through a gap, I can see Thrain enter, another Lactari male with him.
"I don't care what excuses she has," Thrain is saying. "If that human isn't gone by tomorrow evening, I'm bringing this to the council."
"You're sure about this?" the other male asks. "Ruining her seems excessive."
"She refused me. Rejected my suit for years, then spreads her legs for livestock?" Thrain's voice drips with venom. "She deserves everything she gets."
My hands curl into fists. Beside me, I feel Primsyn trembling with rage.
"And once she's ruined," Thrain continues, "her estate will go up for sale. I'll purchase it, of course. Add it to my holdings; it's valuable property."
So that's his real game. Not just forcing Primsyn into marriage, but positioning himself to take everything she owns when she falls.
The other male laughs. "Always thinking ahead. That's why you're on the council."
They're moving toward the desk. Toward the drawer we just opened.
We're trapped.
Primsyn
My heart hammers so hard I'm sure they can hear it. We're pressed together in the narrow space behind the cabinet, barely breathing, as Thrain settles at his desk not ten feet away.
If he opens that drawer, he'll know someone was here. He'll know we found his trophies.
"Wine?" Thrain asks his guest, standing and moving to a cabinet on the opposite side of the room.
"Please."
They're both facing away. This is our only chance.