Chapter 44 #2
“I can see why that would be a good quality, but it’s a little annoying when he treats every decision like it’s vitally important. What color of flowers to put in pots, what wine to serve, what music should be played. I’m surprised his meticulousness hasn’t driven him mad.”
Carver chuckled. “I think he thrives on it. He loves being a part of things, even though he’s usually in the background. Honestly, I don’t think there’s a single thing that happens in this palace that Hector isn’t involved in.”
It wasn’t until he said the words that his smile faltered.
Amryn’s eyes sharpened. “What?”
Carver swallowed once, his thoughts racing. “Hector is involved in everything. If the emperor receives a letter, Hector sees it first. If the emperor needs to send a message, Hector writes it for him.” Not only that, but Hector was present in every important meeting the emperor held.
Confusion was in her eyes as Amryn said, “Yes. That’s his job.”
“I know. But his name never appeared on the list of those who knew the Chosen were coming to Zagrev.” The list that had been given to Carver by Hector. Unease twisted through him. “I didn’t even think of him, but of course he knew about Jayveh’s letter. He would have read it.”
Amryn paled slightly. “But the emperor trusts Hector.”
“He does. That doesn’t mean he should, though.
At least not implicitly.” Carver’s pulse quickened.
“Hector has unmitigated access to every area of the palace—including the prison.” He could have easily killed Trevill himself, or arranged his death.
Just as he could have easily let any assassins inside the palace.
“He knows the layout of every room,” he said grimly.
“And where all the Chosen are staying.” He had made the room arrangements.
A sick feeling crawled through his gut. Hector must possess a personal fortune after years of working for the emperor—exactly what he’d need if he was hiring multiple assassins. And even if somehow he didn’t have the necessary funds, he had direct access to the emperor’s treasury.
“Did he oppose the formation of the Craethen Council?” Amryn asked.
“I don’t know. But he stood to lose influence over the emperor, just as much as the chancellors or clerics.”
Amryn’s throat flexed beneath her bandage. “If Jayveh died . . . could Hector place himself in charge of the empire?”
“I’m not sure,” Carver said, his voice hardening.
“Chancellor Morav would fight him on it, but . . .” It was a conceivable thing.
The emperor’s beloved and trusted steward could easily make a claim for the throne.
It was an option the court might support, especially if it meant avoiding a fight between the chancellors and the clerics as they vied for power.
Hector just might get the political backing he needed.
Especially if he forged some sort of record that stated it was the emperor’s wish for Hector to rule in his stead.
Carver met Amryn’s gaze. “I need to talk to Hector.”
Carver waited until morning to confront Hector. He hadn’t wanted to leave Amryn again last night, and she hadn’t wanted him to go alone, just in case Hector was the one trying to kill the Chosen.
Carver wasn’t worried about facing the studious man, but he didn’t want to worry his wife. So early that morning, he went in search of Morelli.
The general was in his office, looking like he’d barely managed to get any sleep. Knowing he and Keats were the two generals in charge of fighting the Rising, it made sense after such a brutal attack. But when Carver laid out his suspicions, the man was suddenly wide awake.
“Should we go to the emperor with this?” Morelli asked.
“No.” Carver had had time to think about this as Amryn had slept beside him last night.
Carver, as usual, had only slept a couple of hours.
But even without coffee, his veins thrummed with a restless sort of energy.
“I don’t want to upset the emperor until we know for certain.
But if Hector is responsible, he needs to be stopped before he can strike at any of the Chosen again. ”
Morelli pushed to his feet, his expression hard. “Let’s pay the steward a visit.”
They made their way to Hector’s apartment, walking through the nearly deserted halls. It was too early for the court to be up and about, though several servants gave them curious looks.
When they reached the door to Hector’s rooms, Carver was shocked to hear soft voices drifting through the closed door, too low to make out any actual words.
He exchanged a look with Morelli before settling a hand on the knife sheathed at his waist. His free hand formed a fist that he banged once against the door.
Silence fell in the room.
“Hector?” Carver called through the door. “It’s General Vincetti. I need to talk to you.”
The skin around Morelli’s eyes tightened as they waited. And waited.
Carver was ready to pound the door again when a lock disengaged and the door swept open.
Hector stood there, a robe tied a little sloppily around his reed-like body. His hair was disheveled and a few sleep lines crossed his cheek. The curtains were drawn. Not a single lamp was lit. Even so, Carver could see the familiar ink stains on the man’s fingers.
“What’s this about?” Hector asked, his eyes darting between Carver and Morelli.
“We need to talk,” Carver said.
“It’s a little early for a social call.”
“This isn’t a social call,” Morelli assured him.
Hector’s forehead creased.
Carver peeked into the room. “If it’s too early for a social call, why did you already have a visitor?”
Hector’s grip on the door handle tightened. “There’s no one here. I’m alone.”
“We heard voices,” Carver said.
“I talk to myself sometimes,” the steward said, sweat beading on his brow. “A habit I can’t seem to break, I’m afraid.”
“Your lying could use a little work,” Morelli observed.
Hector’s throat bobbed. “I’m not lying.”
Carver knew there wasn’t another exit in Hector’s apartment. He and Argent had searched for one years ago during a prank gone wrong. There was a balcony, but they were on the third floor, and there was no safe way to scale down the palace wall.
He brushed past Hector, striding into the shadowed room.
Hector protested, but Carver ignored him as he yanked back the curtains, spilling early morning light across the apartment.
“You can’t just barge in here,” the steward snapped. “This is an invasion of my privacy!”
Carver scanned the room. There was an unmade bed with wrinkled sheets in the corner. A small table with dishes left over from a previous meal. Bookshelves lined nearly every wall, stuffed to the brim.
His eyes were drawn toward the closed door of the washing chamber. “Come out here,” he called, authority in every word. “If you don’t, I promise you’ll regret it.”
“This is absurd,” Hector spluttered. “I’m going to report you to the emperor.”
Carver ignored him, though he was aware of Morelli shifting a little closer to the steward.
“Come out,” Carver ordered once more. “This is your final warning.”
There was a beat of stillness. Then the door to the washing chamber opened, and a man in rumpled clothes stepped out.
Shock hit Carver. “Kulver?”
For once, the young chancellor was not offering a charming grin or asinine line. He had dark circles under his eyes and a serious expression on his face. He lifted both hands, palms forward. “This isn’t what you think.”
Carver hardly knew what to think. But he went with his gut. “So you’re not conspiring with Hector?”
Kulver’s lips pressed into a line.
Tension pulled at the air inside the room.
Hector’s tongue darted over his lips. “I can explain.”
“You’d better,” Morelli rumbled.
Kulver eyed Hector. “We’re too close,” he murmured. “We can’t ruin this.”
Hector’s focus was on Carver, though his words were clearly for the chancellor. “I believe we have no choice.”
“You have a choice,” Carver said, his voice hard. “Tell us everything here and now, or talk in a cell.”
Kulver tensed. “You can’t arrest us. We’re not guilty of any crime.”
“Conspiracy. Treason. Attempted murder. Take your pick.”
Hector choked. “I can assure you, we’ve done none of those things.”
“You’re not trying to kill Jayveh and the other Chosen?”
Hector’s eyes rounded. “What?”
Kulver snorted. “Are you delusional, Vincetti?”
“Maybe you should start talking, then,” Morelli cut in. “Because things aren’t looking good for you right now.”
Hector and Kulver shared a look. The steward’s shoulders slumped. He met Carver’s gaze. “Do you remember the coded language I taught you?”
Thrown by the unexpected question, Carver answered honestly. “Some of it.”
The older man bobbed his head once. “In my desk in the corner, in the bottom left drawer, you’ll find a book. In it, I’ve recorded all of our findings. It will corroborate what I’m about to tell you.”
“Which is?” Carver asked.
Hector blew out a slow breath. “For the last year, I’ve been investigating a shadowy group within the emperor’s court. The Brotherhood, is what they call themselves.” He gestured to Kulver. “I recruited his help when I realized the Brotherhood had roots in the emperor’s advisory staff.”
“The Brotherhood?” Carver questioned dubiously. He exchanged a look with Morelli, whose brow was furrowed.
Hector’s expression firmed. “I know it sounds mad. At first, I thought I was insane to see such a conspiracy. But time has proven me right. We’ve identified several members, and we’re gathering proof of their illicit dealings.
Kulver was recently inducted into the Brotherhood, which has helped speed our efforts immensely. ”
Carver shot a look at Kulver. “You were invited to join this group.”
The man flashed an irritating smile. “Believe it or not, some people find me likeable.”
“I don’t believe it,” Carver stated.
Morelli was still frowning. The alertness in his gaze assured Carver that he was taking their story seriously. “What did your induction entail?”