Chapter 6 #3
"You haven't met." Lady Eberhardt's hands moved briskly as she served them all thick slices of ginger cake with clotted cream. "It was decided that it would be best if you were kept apart until necessary."
"Kept apart?" Lucien asked.
"This is Adrian Bishop, the Prime's bastard son by Mrs. Amelia Bishop, born several years after Drake's divorce," Lady Eberhardt purred, sitting back with her tea and staring him down. "Adrian is one of the Order's Sicarii, and was my apprentice once upon a time."
"Agatha," Bishop said sharply, as if betrayed.
Prime's bastard. Lucien froze. The words echoed in his head like ringing steel, a sense of incredulousness raining about him. Lady Eberhardt had to be joking. She had to be. For that meant that this man was his younger brother.
Not only a... a brother, but a dangerous one too.
A sickle in the shadows, an assassin. Something Luc had never encountered before, but heard plenty about. There were said to be five of them within the Order, those sorcerers whose calling belonged to the Grave arts, who dealt death to serve their Prime. Few knew their identities.
Bishop's lips thinned. "I presume that was necessary?"
"Oh, indeed." Lady Eberhardt clearly hadn't finished yet and gestured toward Lucien in a way that made him suddenly nervous.
"And this, Bishop, is Lucien Devereaux, the Earl of Rathbourne and the Prime's firstborn bastard son.
" Lady Eberhardt's smile was positively cattish.
"Say how do you do to your brother, boys. "
Bishop's gaze cut sharply toward him, incredulousness sliding over his features and twisting the scars at his temples.
Scars... It was the only resemblance the pair of them had.
"What do you mean, he's my brother?" the other man demanded.
"Why was it decided that they should not know each other?" Miss Martin added. "Who decided such a thing?"
"The Cassandra at the time, Lucien's mother, laid a foretelling upon his birth.
Drake would seed three sons, but never know them until it was too late, nor would they know each other.
The moment any of his sons met, disaster would begin to befall the Order and the boys.
" Lady Eberhardt took a sip of her tea, watching them all over the rim of the cup.
"Disaster? Why on earth did you allow this meeting?"
"Because the disaster is already here," Lady Eberhardt replied, her voice deepening until it sounded not at all her own: "When the red comet rules the skies, the Prime shall fall.
A new Prime shall Ascend to the head of the Order.
Three sons. Three relics. Three sacrifices. Only then can the Prime be torn down.
"There is but one chance to save them. The Snake at the Breast shall cast the first roll of the die, setting the Game into motion, but might be all that holds back the pall of madness.
The Thief shall wear a false face, but wield a true heart; and only the Blind One can see how to save the heart of the Mirror. "
Silence settled over the room like a mantle, highlighting the steady tick of the clock on the mantle.
"And all of that means...?" Bishop asked.
Lady Eberhardt shrugged. "Clear as muck, I know.
Divination usually is. I've been meditating on it for years, and the only thing I've been able to clarify is the fact that the sons refer to Drake's children, and that if they are sacrificed, presumably using the Relics Infernal, then Drake shall fall. "
Silence fell.
Over the course of the last year, since discovering the truth of his birth, Lucien had dreamed of one day seeking his revenge.
Sometimes those dreams had seen his father fallen at his feet, but now, upon hearing the words, he wondered if they had truly been dreams, or merely his Divination coming into play.
His father, crawling over a field of skulls, his skin drawn and ragged as he clutched at Lucien's boots. Three altars dripping the blood of two men whose faces he could never see. "Run," the Prime would whisper. "You should not be here. You should never be here to see this."
Always the same dream. Lucien swallowed. It was one thing to wish his father ill, quite another to realize that he had a part to play in it.
Miss Martin paled. "Drake said the ritual to invoke the Relics Infernal required a grave sacrifice to open a Gateway to the Shadow Dimensions.
If they bring a Greater Demon through into this world, without the usual limitations, they could easily tear Drake down.
Nobody would have the power to stop it."
"Indeed," Lady Eberhardt said enigmatically.
"Who is the third son?" Bishop's dark eyes narrowed.
"Alas, he was forced from his mother's womb many years ago." Lady Eberhardt set down her teacup with a sigh. "Too early to live."
"Then one son has been sacrificed," Bishop said thoughtfully, as if unconcerned by the fact that he was possibly next.
"Two to come." Lucien's voice thickened and their eyes met.
"I am not so easy to kill," Bishop replied.
No, but right now he was. "Everyone can be killed."
"Time for that later, perhaps." Lady Eberhardt's fist curled tightly around her pearls. "I called you here for a reason, Bishop. Morgana is back, and she's after the third relic, the Chalice, of which I happen to be the current guardian. I need you to take it and protect it with your life."
"And what about you?" Bishop demanded. "She'll come again, if she thinks the Chalice is still here."
Lady Eberhardt waved a dismissive hand. "I can handle myself. You just worry about your own hide. It is precious to me, dear boy. I would not see you harmed, but it seems that there's nobody better suited to handling the relic than yourself."
"Agatha..." he warned.
It occurred to Lucien that there was a great deal of fondness between the pair of them.
"It's decided," Lady Eberhardt said, and her voice had a ringing sound of finality to it. She turned those piercing eyes to Lucien and Ianthe. "Good luck finding the Blade. I think you'll need it. And keep me apprised. If it comes time to hunt down Morgana, I've got quite a bone to pick with her."