46. Henry
HENRY
A s I exit Harlow’s bedroom, Gaven watches me with distrustful assessment. He always looks at me that way. I should have just come out of my door to keep from further antagonizing him, but I like how irritated he gets seeing me get closer to her.
While Harlow has warmed from outright trying to kill me to just being her prickly self any time I try to do something for her, Gaven’s suspicion has only grown.
I like having him here to keep an eye on Harlow, especially after what happened with Stefan last night, but every day I’m reminded just how attuned his vigilance is.
I’ve known I’ll need to kill him since the moment we met, but I need to get as much information from him as I can before then, and I need to find a way to make it look like an accident.
Harlow doesn’t trust me, but she occasionally believes me, and if I’m not careful, I’ll set us back completely and she will run.
If we can’t figure out what magic the rest of her siblings and her mother have, we won’t have a plan to counteract it when the time comes to take out Harrick.
I’d hoped the trip to the city would benefit me twofold: it would give me more exposure to the Carrenwells to try to pick up on their magic, and it would endear me to Harlow.
Instead, it only made things murkier because all of my searching led me to Rochelli and sent me in a circle that led right back home. Harlow doesn’t seem convinced that it fits Gaven’s nature, and I’m inclined to agree with her.
Gaven clears his throat. “Are you out for the entire day?”
I shake my head. “She’s taking a bath. I have to meet with my parents, but I will be back in an hour or so.”
He crosses his arms and leans back against the door. “I’ll be here.”
“Tonight is a hunt night. I’ll have to be out for the evening and I really need her to stay in her room this time.”
Gaven nods. “I’ll stay in the room with her until you return.”
“Divine deliver you from her when she finds out you’re babysitting,” I say.
His mouth twitches into the closest approximation of a smile that I’ve seen from him. “I think I’ll manage.”
I turn and walk down the hall, casting one last glance over my shoulder before I descend the stairs.
The first floor is quiet in the afternoon. Most of the staff have finished cleaning for the day, and the only sounds come from the kitchen. Two guards stand outside the sitting room doors at the end of the hallway, and they let me in immediately.
Muted winter light pours in through the large glass windows. The view of the back patio isn’t particularly pretty when it’s this cloudy and cold, but my parents have enough meetings in this room that it’s better to be at the back of the house with a worse view for the sake of privacy.
My father sits in his old leather chair by the fire, a glass of whiskey in his hand. My mother is perched in a matching chair beside him. She looks up from the book in her lap as I enter.
I don’t even have to look at it to know it’s Hymns to Asher .
It’s a classic fictional tale about a man who travels beyond the veil to steal back his wife from the Divine of Endings.
I’ve never asked why my mother reads it so much, but I think it’s less the tragic love story and more the exploration of what it is to face down your shadows and descend into the underworld of yourself.
She started reading it when Holly died, and now she’s read it so many times, the spine is cracked and the pages are falling out.
“I need to kill the bodyguard. He’s become too suspicious,” I say.
The chair creaks as my father leans back and takes a long sip of his drink. “I don’t see any problem with that as long as you’re sure it won’t set back your relationship. Her trust is the most important thing.”
“There’s just one small complication,” I say. This is the real test. I want to see how they react when I tell them about Gaven’s handwriting and the letter. Harlow wasn’t nearly as confident about it being his handwriting as I was that it was my father’s.
“What is it?” my mother asks.
“When we were in Lunameade, we happened upon a rebel with a note from Rochelli. For a long time, Harlow thought Rafe Mattingly was Rochelli, but the handwriting in the letter was her bodyguard’s.”
My father frowns. “She’s certain.”
“She’s pretty sure.”
He makes a low hum of interest, but he and my mother don’t look at each other. I hate that there’s something they’re not telling me when we’re doing something so risky.
“What else do you have to report?” my father presses.
I shove down my annoyance. I’m trying to figure out how to lead them to a place where they will finally be honest with me. Their protection is so patronizing. I’ve been kept in the dark too long. I’ll have to try another way to bring the conversation back to the letter.
I take a bracing breath and force myself to press on.
“I haven’t had any luck figuring out Liza’s magic, or any of the other siblings.
I’m not better off than when we started.
Able has holy fire and Kellan has manipulation magic, but Liza either hasn’t used hers or it’s invisible.
The rest of the siblings are more distant and I didn’t get to interact with any of them. ”
“Not even the sister she’s close with?” my mother asks.
The guilt of not having more to offer my parents presses in on me.
I suspect that Aidia is the glamourist who made Harlow the necklace that she uses to disguise herself, simply because none of her other siblings seem to pay her any mind.
A gift like that would take considerable work and skill.
But without meeting her in person, it’s hard to be certain.
“No, I still haven’t seen her,” I say.
My mother nods encouragingly. “That’s okay. We knew it would take some time to get Harlow to share such a big family secret. Just keep working on it.”
“How was the city?” my father asks. “Any change post-attack? ”
“The people are tense and the mayor is using it to gain traction,” I say. “He’s been visiting the families of those jailed for protesting second blood tithes. The unblessed see him as their champion. When he speaks, they’re entranced, and he’s constantly throwing digs at the Carrenwells.”
“That’s a good thing,” my father says.
I frown. “I’m not sure it is. I don’t think he’s someone we can control. We all know the type. He’s just another Harrick, only worse.”
“No one is worse,” my father grumbles.
“Imagine Harrick with a blessing from Polm.”
My father bristles.
“Exactly,” I say. “He’s the last person who should have a manipulation blessing, but he does. And from the looks of it, he’s very, very good at using it.”
My parents look at each other, a silent conversation passing in a glance.
“Also, I think Rafe set me up to be caught at a rebel bar,” I say.
“I can’t say for certain, but his butler directed me that I would find him at a specific bar in town.
I waited for him for two hours, but he didn’t show.
When I went to leave, I ran into Kellan Carrenwell and a bunch of his city guards who had been tipped off about a rebel meeting at the bar. ”
My father curses and leans back in his chair.
I take a deep breath and continue. “That brings me to my second problem. The Drained breach was at the North Hold gates, which are not only the closest to us, but when the Drained got in, they didn’t just kill people.
They also took some women from the pleasure district.
So the Breeders are a problem in the city, too. ”
My mother presses her hand to her heart. She looks strong today, but her magic takes so much out of her, even long after she’s wielded it. I’m worried this conversation is too taxing.
My father seems to notice her shift in demeanor as well. He gives me a meaningful look. “If that’s all?—”
“It’s not, actually.” I look at my father.
“I tried to give you the space to be honest with me earlier. I know it wasn’t Gaven’s handwriting in that letter.
It was yours. I fumbled it into the fire and risked all the progress I’ve made with Harlow to cover for you.
” I blow out a breath, trying to calm the rising frustration churning through my blood.
“I agreed to this ten-year plan for revenge because you said lasting change takes time. I’ve let you keep me in the dark, and I’ve played my part.
But you put this plan in peril. You should at the very least disguise your handwriting if you’re going to communicate with rebels, but especially if you’re going to pretend to be their leader. Tell me right now what’s going on.”
He holds up a hand. “You know that’s not how this works. We agreed to let you know everything you need to know.”
I point to my mother. “If it wasn’t for Kellan Carrenwell, we could have lost her when the rebels attacked our engagement party. I can’t fathom why you would allow that.”
“That was a few rogue idiots,” my father huffs. “It shouldn’t have happened. We’re too close to risk compromising things now. You don’t know?—”
“Philip.” My mother places a hand on his shoulder. “Henry makes a good point. If we don’t let him in on a little bit more, he could very well work against us by accident.”
I want to turn away. I’m ashamed that my ten-year commitment to revenge is faltering—not because I want it any less, but because I’m actually concerned about how it will affect the woman who has already suffered more than I know.
Under my mother’s careful assessment, I feel suddenly nervous. “You like her—your wife.”
“I don’t.”
“You do,” she says firmly. “And I don’t just mean you liked bedding her. I mean you actually like her. Not admitting it doesn’t make it untrue. It only makes your inability to recognize your own feelings a liability.”
I know she’s right, and I’m embarrassed to be scolded.
My father scrubs a hand down his face, but she just pats his shoulder.
“Yes. I like her. She takes tremendous pleasure in antagonizing me, but she?—”
I can’t quite put my finger on exactly what it is about her.
Of course, she’s smart and darkly funny, but it’s something more than that.
She should not trust me, yet the other night she finally did—and not just out of necessity.
I have no doubt she could have found her own way out of that dining room.
She certainly could have told me to leave afterward.
But she let me help, and that alone is a sign of the progress I’ve made .
“She understands how to taunt you. She makes you feel known,” my mother says.
That’s exactly it. Harlow understands me well enough to rake her fingernails over my last nerve, but in a way that makes it fun instead of just irritating.
There is an unexpected intimacy in studying a foe this way—in having to understand her back so that I can manipulate her.
I’m mortified that I’ve fallen into this trap and even more embarrassed that my parents have noticed.
“I’ll get over it. It’s just?—”
My mother holds up a delicate hand to silence me. “We’re not asking you to. There’s something she wants that you can give her if our plan works, right?”
I nod, thinking of Rafe and the portrait of her sister I saw in his sitting room.
“And it’s something she cares about enough to break loyalty to her family?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Yes. Now, will you tell me why that letter in Father’s handwriting was signed from Rochelli?”
She squeezes my father’s shoulder and gestures to the chair facing his. “You should sit down for this.”