17. Eva
Eva
W hen Robin returns from the village, her cheeks flushed from the walk and her hair tousled by the mountain breeze, I’m still sitting there in the Great Hall, brooding.
Stefan is making calls, and I needed a break, so I came down here to look out over the lake and consider my options.
But Robin takes one look at my face and stops dead in the doorway.
“What’s happened?” she asks immediately, that intuitive understanding of my moods still catching me off guard.
I try to school my expression into something more neutral, but it’s too late. She’s already crossing the room, her hands reaching for mine with the kind of automatic comfort I’m still learning to accept.
“Eva,” she says gently. “Talk to me.”
The words spill out before I can stop them. “Stefan thinks it’s Leon, too.”
Robin goes very still, and I watch her face as she processes this information. When she speaks, her voice is careful. “Do you remember what I told you about seeing Leon in the village? Talking to that man? The same one who…”
Of course. Yes. The villager—the man who turned up dead in Vegas, killed during the rescue mission. Robin saw Leon talking to him—threatening him. I had waved it off at the time, because the man had been corrupt, and I’d approved of Leon’s actions.
But what if their argument was not about the school…but about something much darker?
I sink back in the chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I cannot believe it of him. Leon has taken bullets for me. Literally thrown his body between me and danger without hesitation.”
“I know,” Robin says softly, settling on the chair’s arm and running her fingers through my hair. “I know how much he means to you.”
“If I can’t trust Leon, then who can I trust?” The question tears from my throat with more raw vulnerability than I intended.
“You can trust me.”
I look at her—this woman who sold herself at auction to save her family, who faced down my world’s dangers with quiet courage, who sees the monster in me and chooses to love me anyway.
“I know,” I whisper. “You’re the only one I know for certain.”
Before Robin can respond, Stefan appears in the doorway, dressed once more for travel. His expression is grave but determined.
“I must leave,” he announces. “There are contacts I need to speak with, information that can only be gathered in person. I’ll keep you informed of what I discover. Tell Dimi to stay here while I’m gone. It will do him good to stop partying for a few days.”
I stand, forcing myself back into the role of Consortium leader despite the turmoil churning inside me.
“Be careful, uncle,” I say in our language.
I don’t want Robin to know any more about this business than she really has to.
“If Leon is involved, if he’s been feeding information to our enemies. ..”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” Stefan replies firmly. “But first we need proof. Concrete evidence, not just suspicions and circumstantial connections.”
He pauses at the door, his expression softening slightly. “Oh, by the way—has the American teenager been any help with his spreadsheet analysis?”
The question catches me off guard. With everything Stefan has revealed about Leon, I’d forgotten all about Dane’s task.
“He’s been holed up in the library for hours,” I admit in English. “I haven’t checked on his progress.”
Robin stands immediately when she realizes I’m referring to Dane. “That’s more than enough screen time for him. We need to drag him outside for some fresh air and sunlight.”
After Stefan leaves with promises to contact me within forty-eight hours, Robin and I make our way to the library. I expect to find Dane hunched over the laptop, his eyes strained from staring at columns of numbers.
Instead, we find him leaning back in the leather chair, completely absorbed in what appears to be some kind of online battle game. Explosions and gunfire echo from the laptop speakers.
“Dane!” Robin’s voice cracks like a whip. “What do you think you’re doing?”
My own vexation flares hot, but I bite back the words that rise up. Robin is his guardian, after all. And she sounds even angrier than I am.
Dane glances up at us with the kind of casual teenage indifference that makes me want to throttle him. “Why so serious?” he asks, pausing his game. “I finished the spreadsheet stuff hours ago.”
Robin and I exchange glances—hers annoyed, mine skeptical.
“Hours ago?” I repeat.
“Yeah, it was actually pretty easy once I figured out the pattern.” Dane minimizes his game and pulls up another window. “See? One particular login made all the suspicious transfers. Took me maybe two hours to write the program and run the analysis.”
My heart hammers as I lean over his shoulder to examine the screen. There, highlighted in red, are dozens of transactions that don’t match normal Consortium patterns. And there is one login ID responsible for every single one.
I yank away the laptop and log in to my secure server, crosschecking the ID.
“ Markov ,” I breathe.
Relief floods through me so suddenly that my knees nearly buckle. Not Leon. Never Leon. Markov—exactly as I’d thought myself.
“Is that good news or bad news?” Dane asks, watching my face with curiosity.
“Both,” I admit. “Good because it confirms who we suspected. Bad because it means we have a serious problem to address.”
“And it’s none of your business , Dane,” Robin adds warningly, shooting a glare my way.
But I’m practically giddy with gratitude toward the boy. Leon is safe. My trust in him is intact. The foundation of my security hasn’t crumbled after all.
“So can I keep playing now?” Dane asks hopefully.
“Absolutely not,” Robin says, ruffling his hair. “You can go and help the girls explore the hedge maze.”
“Aw, man?—”
“Thank you for your excellent work,” Robin says over the top of his complaints. “I’m sure Eva will be thrilled to take you up in the helicopter.”
Dane, who had forgotten about that promise, apparently, gives a whoop of excitement as I make a mental note to have our aircraft team make sure the helicopter at the airbase has a full tank. I’ll be happy to fly Dane around all day and night after this outcome.
“We’ll come and join you in the gardens,” Robin tells Dane, then glances at me. “If you can spare the time?”
I wait until Dane is out of the room before sweeping Robin into a kiss that leaves her breathless. “Little bird, I have nothing at all on my plate anymore. Let’s play.”
We spend some time in the gardens, enjoying the warmth.
An hour later, Adrian, Mira, and Dimi return to the castle, laughing and talking.
Adrian is flushed with triumph. Targets—roughly painted circles of wood—have been hauled back for display, bristling with arrows and bolts.
Mira stands over them with unmistakable pride.
“Excellent grouping,” I tell her. “Your grandfather taught you well.”
“Three bull’s-eyes are mine,” she says with satisfaction. “One belongs to Adrian—good shot for a beginner.”
Adrian beams at the praise, while Dimi examines his fingernails with exaggerated casualness.
“And Dimi?” Robin asks with barely concealed amusement.
“Dimi,” Mira announces with a wicked grin, “managed not to hit a single target.”
“I’m out of practice,” Dimi protests with wounded dignity.
Despite Dimi’s dramatics, there’s something endearing about the way he’s handled coming in third in this particular competition. Because I happen to know he’s an excellent shot. I suspect he took a graceful loss to make Adrian look better.
An idea strikes me—born partly from relief about Leon, partly from the beautiful spring evening, and partly from a sudden desire to celebrate being surrounded by people I care about.
“Why don’t we all have dinner down by the lake?” I suggest impulsively. “We can sit by the fire pit near the boathouse. Have a picnic dinner brought down from the kitchens—or even cook something ourselves over the fire. Maybe brave a swim if anyone’s feeling adventurous.”
Robin stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “ You want to cook? Outdoors?”
“Why not? It’s a beautiful evening, and...” I pause, realizing how unlike me this sounds. “I just want to spend time with all of you. Away from castle walls and business concerns.”
Her smile could light up the entire castle. “I think that sounds perfect.”
An hour later, we’ve transformed the area around the lake into something resembling a medieval feast. Leon helped carry supplies down the winding path, and the kitchen staff sent enough extra food to feed twice our number—fresh bread, cheese, early vegetables from the greenhouse, and several bottles of wine that have been languishing in my cellar.
The fire pit crackles with seasoned wood, casting dancing shadows across the water’s black surface. The boathouse looms nearby, its dark silhouette adding an almost gothic touch to our rustic celebration.
But it’s the laughter that transforms everything.
Alicia and Maisie chatter excitedly about their afternoon in the gardens, Dane explains his programming triumph to anyone who’ll listen, and even Leon relaxes enough to share stories about teaching Mira to shoot when she was barely tall enough to hold a crossbow.
I find myself watching him throughout the meal, guilt gnawing at me for ever doubting his loyalty.
Stefan’s suspicions had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, but now, seeing Leon in the firelight—steady, protective, utterly devoted to the people he considers family—I feel ashamed for even entertaining the possibility of his betrayal.
“Time for a swim!” Mira announces suddenly, already pulling off her boots.
“The water’s freezing,” Dimi protests.
“Scared?” she challenges, which is clearly the wrong thing to say to a group that includes competitive teenagers.