32. Tristan
Chapter thirty-two
Tristan
I remain frozen long after Piper leaves.
Murphy watches the door. So do I. The silence she leaves behind is different from the silence before. Not lighter. Not kinder. But altered.
She came to me. She did not forgive me, at least not fully. She doesn’t trust me yet. She did not say she would stay. But she came. She listened, she talked, she tried to understand.
After six centuries, I should know better than to build a cathedral out of one small mercy.
I do it anyway.
Murphy rises, stretches, and walks to the door. He looks back at me with a soft whine.
"No," I say quietly. "She needs time."
His ears lower. He sighs as if I’ve disappointed him personally, then returns to the rug and collapses with all the elegance of a felled tree.
I look down at the leather case beside my desk. Ridiculous. She called it a tragic little coffin of ancestral sadness.
I close my eyes and still hear her voice.
I’m still afraid.
She should be.
A knock sounds at my door.
"Enter."
Duncan steps inside, mist still clinging to the shoulders of his coat. He carries a single leather portfolio beneath one arm. He studies me for a moment.
"You've spoken with Miss Monroe."
"I have. After she discovered me drinking from Justin yesterday. She’s gone through a shock, Duncan. She saw the truth before I had a chance to tell her."
His eyes search my face. "And?"
"She was angry and afraid. But this morning, she listened."
"Then perhaps there’s hope."
"I’ve lived long enough not to mistake hope for certainty."
"She asked questions and you answered?"
“Yes. She doesn’t know of the dungeon or the Houses or any of the political threats. But she has learned that I am vampire. That’s the first step.”
He nods.
"Then perhaps this calamity has achieved something cautious avoidance could not."
He closes the door behind him.
"There’s another matter. The reason I’ve come." He removes a folded packet from the portfolio but does not immediately hand it to me.
"It is finished."
Something settles heavily in my chest. For several seconds I simply look at the papers without reaching for them.
"The legal wrangling has been completed."
I nod once.
"The title and trusts?"
"Confirmed."
"The occupancy agreements?"
"They remain valid."
I already know what comes next.
"...and the ownership?"
Duncan's voice is gentle.
"Miss Piper Monroe is the lawful owner of Glenhaven Castle. Her attorney will be calling her this morning."
The words hang between us. No more appeals, no hidden clause waiting to be discovered by Duncan to save the situation.
Six centuries of ownership, ended by a mouse click and an online auction, thanks to a long game played by my devious competitors. And I had not paid attention.
I take the packet from him. The pages feel surprisingly light. Perhaps because the weight was never in the paper.
"There’s nothing left to challenge in the courts?"
"No."
"No forgotten covenant? No error in registration? No obscure appeal to be made?"
"No."
I look down at the documents.
"It’s over," Duncan says softly.
I let out a slow breath.
"No. It’s only beginning."
Duncan walks to the window overlooking the rain-dark gardens.
"There’s another matter."
"The investigation of who did this. What have you found?"
"We cannot yet prove who orchestrated the sale and all of the hidden, complicated details underlying this..."
"But?"
"But it was no accident. We know now that the chain of ownership was altered deliberately."
"The shell companies?"
"Established years ago."
"The forged correspondence?"
"Convincing enough to survive every preliminary review by the courts."
I feel the cold certainty settling over me. Someone had not merely wanted to get control of Glenhaven Castle for political reasons. Someone had wanted me to lose it.
"And Piper?"
"She has no idea what she has inherited. She’s in danger."
I look once more at the papers in my hand. Since Piper arrived, I prayed the sale would be proven invalid and she wouldn’t be involved.
"And there is yet another matter. The invitation from House MacGowan remains unanswered. As does the one from Sebastian Ashcroft."
My brief, fragile peace cools.
"Tristan, two more invitations arrived this morning. This time to my office."
I rise slowly.
"From whom?"
"House Ashcroft, again. And House MacGregor."
"MacGregor only follows where stronger predators lead."
"Precisely."
I hold out my hand and Duncan gives me the envelopes. I break the seal from House MacGregor. The letter is brief, elegant and infuriating.
Lord Sinclair,
House MacGregor extends its congratulations to Miss Piper Monroe on her assumed acquisition of Glenhaven Castle and respectfully requests the honor of formal introduction at her earliest convenience.
Given the unusual legal circumstances surrounding a transfer of ownership, we believe it would be mutually beneficial to establish cordial relations before unnecessary confusion arises.
Please convey to Miss Monroe our highest regards.
M. MacGregor, Head of House MacGregor
"There’s more, Tristan. Sebastian Ashcroft’s people have contacted the village solicitor."
"Who?"
"Mr. Bell."
"Bell is weak and vain."
"Both dangerous in moderation."
I cross to the fire, though it gives no warmth.
I’m silent for a moment. She knows I’m a vampire. But also that everyone near her has lied to some degree, and that her accidental purchase was unscrupulous as I never intended to sell Glenhaven Castle.
A gentle morning, by Glenhaven standards.
"Then we keep this from her until—"
"No," I say quickly. My voice cuts cleanly across the room. “No more deciding what Miss Monroe can bear, what she can hear."
"She’s already frightened," Duncan says. "More truth may drive her away."
"Then at least she’ll leave informed."
I let out a breath that has been in my chest for far too long.
Murphy stands and comes to me, pressing his head against my thigh. The dog, apparently, approves of emotional confrontation with solicitors.
"I’ll tell her at breakfast,” I say.
"Assuming she comes."
"She will. Mrs. MacLeod is making apple scones."
After Duncan leaves, I remain by the fire with the letter in my hand.
MacGregor is charming in the way of men who have spent centuries learning that charm opens doors violence would only splinter.
Much like Sebastian Ashcroft. He will want to meet Piper, flatter her, flirt with her, maybe try to bed her.
He will speak of rights, ownership, and opportunity.
He will make Glenhaven sound like a burden I kept from her.
He will make the Council sound like a room where she might become powerful.
He will never mention the cost until after she has paid it.
A knock comes again, lighter this time. Mrs. MacLeod enters without waiting.
"Breakfast in fifteen minutes."
"Is Miss Monroe coming?"
"Aye."
"Don't look as if you've been granted a royal pardon. She's mostly coming for coffee and because I threatened to bring the tray to her."
I glance toward the window.
"Hunger makes fools of us all."
Mrs. MacLeod’s face changes, but she does not press. Instead, she crosses to the desk and notices the letters.
"More invitations? Bad ones?"
"Potentially."
"Tell her."
"I intend to."
Mrs. MacLeod’s own expression softens. "She came to you, laddie. That matters. So don't ruin it."
She turns for the door.
"Fifteen minutes. Change your shirt and brush your hair."
I glance down. There is a faint smear of Justin’s blood near one cuff.
After she leaves, I change. White shirt. Charcoal waistcoat. Dark jacket.
Armor, Piper would say. She would be right.