33. Leah
Leah
Ican’t be with Syrus right now. This day has been too full of ups and downs. From waking up in his arms and our lovely morning in the city to our not-quite-fight and sniping at each other during training until…that.
But I also can’t go back to our room, because eventually Syrus will turn up there too, and I need a little distance from him right now.
Distance to try to work out how we can stay together—the irony doesn’t escape me.
Instead, I let my feet carry me through the residence.
It’s a big house, and I’m sure I haven’t even seen half of it, so exploring should provide some welcome distraction.
For example, finding out what Thadeus Strickland reads in his spare time could be entertaining.
Surely, there must be a library here somewhere.
The fact the house is part of the Assembly building means it’s old too, with portraits lining the walls of all Pax’s leaders that came before, sitting beside old maps that show Strata pre- and post-unification.
I study one that includes Syrus’s kingdom, Fenlire, and make a mental note to show him later. I think he’d enjoy that.
That particular map sits at the end of a corridor near a set of dark wooden stairs. There’s more to see on this floor, but the housekeeping staff seem busy cleaning at one end, and I don’t want to get in their way. I’m about to move on, but as I linger at the top of the stairs, I feel it.
It seems like nothing at first. A touch of dizziness after training so hard, maybe.
But when it doesn’t pass, I’m forced to study it a bit closer.
It’s an odd sensation. Not quite a prickle up the spine or a buzzing in my veins, but something in between.
It’s a little like stepping into Aradis, feeling my ephilium side properly waking up inside me and stretching its wings—like I’m suddenly noticing something that’s been there a long time, but which I didn’t have the ability to register before.
I stare down the flight of stairs, which curve around before ending in another hallway. An instinct’s pushing me toward the top step, drawing me downward, urging me to follow.
I descend one set of stairs only to find another almost immediately below.
A part of me desperately wants to keep going, which is ridiculous, because while Strickland’s not said anything about restricting our access to only the main living areas of the house, the unadorned walls and dim lamplight here tell me this isn’t a part of the house typically open to guests.
In fact, I’m surprised I haven’t passed any wardens on my way down here, given they tend to patrol the residence to keep an eye on us and ensure Strickland’s safety.
The stairs creak as I pad down them, that alert, tingling sensation intensifying.
“…you’re not in any position to pretend otherwise.”
“How dare you! You think you’re the only one with friends in this city?”
I pause, eyes darting to a door on the floor I’ve just left. I’m still getting used to my far-sharper nephilim hearing. I sneak back up a few steps. I’ll leave in a moment, but it might be interesting to get some household gossip while I’m here.
But when the first voice speaks again, I recognize it as Strickland’s.
“…coming to this residence under false pretenses. Cornering me to make unreasonable demands. I’d like to say I thought better of you, McLieve, but your reputation precedes you,” Strickland hisses.
“My reputation?” splutters the other man. “I told people not to panic when you were elected. That you wouldn’t turn your back on Pax’s businessmen just because of your background. Now you’re rifling through our pockets like a beggar looking for money to buy his next drink.”
“Insult me all you want,” Strickland says, and his tone has me picturing a deadly calm expression. “My answer is no.”
“Cancel the fines, or you’ll find every one of my partners and their partners’ partners will have something to say about it come next election,” McLieve counters.
Strickland laughs. It’s not a cold sound, but it’s so confident that it must feel like an insult. “I’m not sure you’re as popular as you think you are, McLieve. Or certainly, you won’t be for much longer if your partners ever discover you’re the one rifling through their pockets.”
McLieve makes an outraged gasp. “I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
“You don’t? Should I ask your partners, then, where the extra ten percent of their profits is really going every month?”
McLieve’s only response is a choking cough.
“Don’t threaten me again, McLieve. I’m much better at playing this game than you.”
The door slams open, and I try to retreat down the stairs as quickly and silently as I can. I see the bottom of McLieve’s pants as he strides angrily past the banister, storming up the stairs to the floor above.
There’s a pause before a second set of footsteps exits the room, only to stop beside the stairs. I’m sure I don’t make a noise, not even a creak, and still Strickland suddenly looks down, leaning over the banister to lock eyes with me.
His eyebrows rise, then fall. “Miss Renova.”
“I was just passing,” I say, feeling a touch ridiculous as I ascend the stairs. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
I figure it’s pointless pretending I didn’t at least see McLieve leaving.
Rather than seeming angry, a curious look shines in Strickland’s eyes, and I don’t miss that he glances down to the corridor below me. He probably thinks I was doing some nefarious demon spying on Syrus’s behalf.
And considering how I was snooping, maybe he’s not entirely wrong.
“Ah, well, as you can see, a politician’s job is never done,” Strickland says, straightening his sleeves. “He’s not safe from pestering even in his own home.”
I could act like I didn’t hear any of it.
Even if Strickland doesn’t believe me, it would save us from any awkwardness.
But hearing the conversation sparked a flare of annoyance in me I can’t quite snuff out.
I know the leaders of Strata care more about infighting and helping out their friends than they do about the regular Joe on the street.
I shouldn’t be surprised by what I heard.
But I’m standing opposite the chief assemblyman, for fuck’s sake, and after a lifetime of resentment, it’s very hard not to take the opportunity that’s being offered to me to speak my mind about the corruption embedded in Strata’s core.
“So,” I say, crossing my arms. “You know he’s stealing from his partners, breaking the law, but you won’t say anything as long as he stays in line and votes with you?”
He blinks, clearly not expecting such a direct question.
To his credit, Strickland doesn’t tell me to mind my own business.
“Sometimes it’s more useful to keep certain pieces of information to yourself, and then deploy them strategically,” he says evenly.
“Blackmail, you mean?” I try to sound light, but I’m sure my eyes are giving my distaste away.
“You think that’s not the sort of behavior someone in my position should be engaging in,” he says. An assessment, not a question.
I see how careful he’s being with his words, and it rubs me the wrong way. Strickland always seems careful. It makes it hard to trust him.
“It’s not,” I say simply, trying to give him nothing, wondering how he’ll react.
His shoulders slump a little, and he suddenly looks quite tired. “I wish it wasn’t the way, but unfortunately I have to work within the system I’ve been given.”
“You could try to change it,” I point out, and that makes him smile.
“Change can’t happen overnight. At least not here in Strata.
I confess that I don’t know how things work in Infernum, Miss Renova, but I’ve learned some harsh lessons growing up in Pax.
My family died when I was young, leaving me to fend for myself.
I thought once upon a time I could change things without stooping to everyone else’s level, but sometimes, we have to be realistic before we can be idealistic. ”
I loosen my arms a little, some of my annoyance dampened by the sincerity in his voice. It’s not like I don’t understand where he’s coming from. It’s not like I ever wanted to scavenge corpses on the plains, picking over the dead. I did what I had to.
“What did you do to make him so angry, anyway?” I say, nodding toward the stairs.
Strickland sighs. “He wanted me to lift a set of fines on his business for trying to buy up a competitor.”
“That’s it?” I ask. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Maybe. But he’s already bought out two others these past two years. A monopoly hurts the average citizen just trying to get by. They have fewer choices, and prices go up, and there’s nothing they’d be able to do about it.”
“Oh,” I say, because just like that, Strickland’s put it in a way I can understand. This, I’ve learned, is one of his skills: talking to people on their level without being patronizing, winning them over just by explaining things the right way.
He nods, seeing he’s shifted my viewpoint a fraction.
“It’s important that we don’t let the little person get pushed around.
And sometimes that means people like me have to play dirty to protect them.
I heard someone put it like this once: we have to claim our power, even if we sometimes have to dance with the darkness to do it. ”
I see now why Strickland has ruffled some feathers in Pax. Despite his position, he refuses to be turned into one of the selfish elite. Clearly, he’s not perfect, but none of us are. I’ve also done questionable things to claim my power, that’s for sure.
“That makes sense,” I say.
He clears his throat. “Were you…er…looking for something?” he asks, glancing once more down the stairs.
“Oh, no, sorry,” I say, realizing I can’t tell Strickland the truth about this either. “Lord Syrus was cranky, and I was just looking to find a quiet place to hide until he was in a better mood.”
It’s not entirely untrue.
Strickland absorbs this slowly. “Cranky is perhaps not a word I’d ever think to apply to a demon lord,” he says, raising an eyebrow wryly.
I smile sweetly, feeling like I’ve caught a glimpse of the man behind Strickland’s careful mask. “Spend enough time with one, and you’ll be surprised.”