Chapter Ten A Brother for a Bride
Chapter Ten
A Brother for a Bride
The sun rose on the twenty-second day of Paranjay’s arrest. Dawn trickled in through the slats covering the window of the Devar Brothers office, bars of gold light striping the newspapers and spreadsheets and intel reports scattered on every surface.
Despite their earlier truce, Hasan and Zeyar continued to butt heads. They’d tried to come up with alternate solutions. But every road they explored took them back to the exact same fork: bribery or battle. To Hasan, attacking the precinct was the only viable option. Zeyar was just being stubborn.
“If we attack the precinct, then we have no room for failure,” Zeyar said. “If we don’t get Paranjay out, they’ll harm him in retribution.”
“I’ll rally my strongest men,” Hasan reasoned. “Plus, we have the element of surprise.”
“And they have military-grade rifles.” Zeyar paced the room, a tail of cigarette smoke following him.
“Our daivyakhi is limited as it is. Making offerings to household idols can only get us so much power, and our handguns are no match for their weapons. Plus, they’re trained in combat.
We don’t have that same advantage, nor do we have months to train.
We need to get Paranjay out before this moves to the courts and they sentence him to a high-security prison. ”
If they don’t sentence him to the gallows instead. The unspoken alternative hung heavy in the air between them.
“There must be a price,” Zeyar said, almost to himself.
“Oh my gods,” Hasan groaned. “Will you fucking drop the bribery idea?”
“No”—Zeyar shook his head—“not bribery. I mean there must be something that Montrose cares about, something that we can leverage to at least gain an audience with him.”
“Like blackmail?”
“Maybe.” Zeyar sat at the desk in front of Hasan, shuffling a stack of newspapers to the side. “What have your spies learned of him?”
Hasan sighed, flipping pages in his notebook.
“Not much that we don’t already know,” he admitted.
“He graduated from the police academy after a year’s worth of training and has been promoted thrice, most recently a few months ago, when he made captain and started to make our lives hell.
His promotion is likely nepotism, given he’s from one of the original five colonizing families, but he’s clearly not an empty head. ”
“What else? Family? Siblings?”
“He has a younger sister. But she married a man from a lesser family, and if the rumors are true, he’s been distant from her ever since.”
“Surely he has someone he cares about.” Zeyar waved his cigarette in the air. “A close friend, a mistress. He must have a woman—he’s Miss Marnapur’s most eligible bachelor, for gods’ sake.”
Hasan paused. “Since when do you read Miss Marnapur?”
“I don’t,” Zeyar said. “Harithi enjoys reading it. Says it’s funny.”
Hasan’s brow creased. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her with it.”
Zeyar stiffened. “I must be mistaken,” he huffed, stabbing his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray. “Maybe it was Samina. I don’t know. Fuck, I need a cup of chai. I saw Kishan opening his stall. Let’s go. A break will do us some good.”
Hasan didn’t want to get up until they’d found a solution, but they’d been awake all night, and a cup of chai sounded exactly like what he needed to take the edge off.
As the two of them stood waiting for their chai, a paperboy drew near, carrying a heavy bag of newspapers over his shoulder.
“Viryana Post!” he shouted. “Just five copper crowns!”
“Boy,” Hasan called, taking a silver crown out of his pocket. “I’ll take one.”
The boy scampered forward, collecting the coin eagerly and thrusting the paper into Hasan’s hand. Hasan blanched, too startled by the headline to ask the boy for change before he scurried off.
“There you go again with your charity,” Zeyar said. “How many urch—”
Hasan shook his head, cutting his brother off.
“Montrose is engaged.” He flipped the paper so the headline was facing Zeyar: “Montrose Heir Proposes to Viceroy’s Daughter.
” Below, Poppy Sutherland was pictured, her expression one of shock and delight.
When Hasan was growing up, it was not uncommon to see the viceroy’s daughter in photographs beside him, but in the past few weeks since her return from Welkland, the papers had printed so many pictures of her that Hasan felt like he knew her face better than his own.
She hadn’t been featured this much since the scandal of her adoption twenty-one years ago.
Hasan shook out the newspaper, revealing the rest of the photograph.
Richard Montrose occupied the bottom half, down on one knee as he beamed up at Poppy confidently, her hand in his.
The pair of them looked absurd against the backdrop, a shitty old building that hadn’t been occupied in years.
“Give me that.” Zeyar grabbed the newspaper from Hasan. He flipped past the front page, heading to the page with the rest of the article. His eyes widened. “He bought her that run-down house they’re standing in front of,” he said. “And he put her name on the deed.”
“Seems like a big investment for a man who isn’t besotted,” Hasan observed.
“Besotted is strong,” Zeyar disagreed. “The paper says they’ve only been courting three weeks.
What’s more likely is he needed her to say yes.
Between the giant purchase and the public proposal, he all but guaranteed she couldn’t turn him down.
Very clever. So, the girl is important to him, though the why of the matter is not so simple as love. ”
“Should we threaten her?”
Zeyar shook his head. “She’s Sutherland’s daughter. He likely has a guard with her at all times. Threatening her will only increase the security around her and decrease the likelihood that we’ll be able to make good on our words. An empty threat carries no weight.”
Hasan crossed his arms. “Then what do you propose?”
“Act first; make threats later.” Zeyar’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “We’re going to kidnap her.”
Hasan understood immediately. “You want to do a prisoner trade. Paranjay for Poppy.”
“Exactly.” Zeyar tapped the newspaper. “Her engagement party is in three days, hosted at Montrose Manor. Everyone who’s anyone will be invited, which means the house will be full of guests. Getting in and out unnoticed will be easy. It’s the perfect opportunity.”
“I’ll send Samina to scope out the property.
” Hasan’s mind raced. “We’ll need a map of the house and the grounds.
Given the size of the party, they’ll need to hire Virian waitstaff.
I’m sure Harithi can find out which catering company is getting the contract.
We’ll need a few men to infiltrate them. Perhaps Vinay and Kaushal—”
“No,” Zeyar said. “This will be our biggest stunt to date. We aren’t collecting a debt; we’re seizing the viceroy’s daughter. Send your team to make the necessary preparations. But only you and I are qualified enough to do the deed.”
Hasan’s lips curved up in a half smile. He and Zeyar had not worked a job together since their mother had handed them the reins of the family business.
Though it seemed unimaginable now, they had made quite the team back then, with Zeyar’s precisely crafted strategies backed by Hasan’s brute strength and physical prowess.
Oh, they’d argued back then, too, tussling like a pair of wolf pups—but they’d always made it out of a job laughing.
Scuffed up, a trail of destruction in their wake, but laughing.
Hasan wanted to laugh with his brother again. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s get Paranjay back.”