Chapter Forty-Two #2
Uncle Bran rose from his seat and sifted through a pile of letters on his desk. He handed her one with the Nathanael house’s seal. “He’s building an army, Tovi, and has considered you as the buyer. These came last week.”
“What?” She flipped through the letters, which were written more like proposals. Lord Nathanael claimed to have an army “large enough” to win a war. “Bloody hel, he wants to profit off the divide between my brother and me.”
“If this lord doesn’t want a female on the throne, why consider Tovi?” Yennifer asked. “It could it be a trap, a way to lure her to his lands and then capture her for Riven.”
Tovi shook her head. “Yen’s right. Why write to me and not Riven? He’s the preferred heir.”
Uncle Bran held up a finger. “There’s only one problem with that: Your brother is broke, and Lord Nathanael knows it.”
Tovi snapped straighter, her brow pinching so fiercely pain lanced through her forehead. “How is that possible? His merchant company is not much smaller than mine. He possesses Drystan Castle’s troves, too, seeing as he controls vampyr court.”
“Your brother hasn’t conducted business with his merchant company since he left for Callum.
He also assumed the ruling role in court with your absence, taking up much of his time, too.
As for the castle’s wealth, you and your friends buried it all under rubble during your mission to break out the Daughter of the Goddess. ”
Yennifer whistled. “That’s a splendid surprise. I’ll be sure to let Linx know how very effective her explosives were.”
The others laughed, asking questions about the Gray Fenris, while Tovi slumped in her seat, tapping the wooden table. Was her next move visiting Lord Nathanael? Could she stomach conducting business with a mercenary who detested females like her?
Boots clattered down the hall, heavy and quick. “I swear, my senses must be failing me. It smells distinctly like a werewolf—”
Uncle Bran’s mate, Cass, halted in the dining room’s doorway. He frowned, but a playful sheen coated his dark eyes. “Well, Goddess. I thought I’d be the first to invite a werewolf to the castle’s table.” He held his arm out, ushering others into the room.
Nadia and Aramis appeared—traveling leathers worn, cheeks reddened from the cold, and jaws tight.
Tovi and Yen sprang out of their seats. The archer greeted her once alpha, and the werewolves exchanged hushed, excited words.
“Far too much wine in this country,” Tovi heard Aramis grumble.
“It’s not the Shield-maiden, that’s for sure,” Yen laughed.
Nadia rolled her eyes at their conversation but gripped Tovi’s shoulders.
“What brought you here?” she asked.
Tovi’s brows shot up. “I can ask you the same thing.”
“Running,” Aramis threw over his shoulder as he introduced himself to Sven, Opal, and Uncle Bran. The measured grump of the alpha reminded Tovi of another Drengr werewolf, and she snapped her attention back to Nadia.
Her friend shot a glare in Aramis’s direction. “We are regrouping.”
“From what exactly?” Tovi asked.
“Your sister, Visha,” Aramis said. “She caught us snooping inside the castle, and we barely got out alive.”
Nadia threw up her hands. “But we got out!”
“Barely—”
“How about some wine?” Uncle Bran’s friendly announcement cut through the tension.
Opal dragged Nadia closer to the table and invited her to sit—at the opposite end of the table from Aramis, Tovi noted.
“They’re in vampyr territory, and yet, their biggest enemy is themselves,” Cass whispered into Tovi’s ear, his voice just as deep as his brown skin. “About did my head in getting them here.”
“Why were you so far north?” Tovi asked.
Cass smirked. “Spying, per my queen’s orders. How do you think your uncle comes by all this useful information?”
Tovi crossed her arms, finding the energy to smile. “Well, what did you find?”
“Two fools who failed to steal back the Moon God’s sword,” Aramis said from the far end of the table. Servants entered, bringing additional plates of food. In the corner, Juni and Bryn slept on the oversize reading chair, wool blankets tucked to their chins.
Nadia’s grip on her wineglass threatened to snap the stem.
“Is Riven the crowned king like he claims?” Tovi asked.
Nadia cut her attention away from Aramis. “No more than I was a war advisor on his council. He’s playing pretend with the title. Visha entertains the court, and the Drystan Village remains loyal to you. Though Riven is preparing a small legion, and . . .”
“And?” Tovi pressed.
Nadia frowned. “We discovered Riven’s next move.”
“That’s worthy news, is it not?” Yennifer asked, peering up and down the table.
Aramis said nothing, and Tovi suddenly realized where the eldest Drengr brother had learned the art of stewing from.
“What is it?” Tovi asked.
“Ingrid is working on a spell to widen the Void and spread the curse all over Sorin.”
“Goddess,” Tovi breathed. “I guess if they can’t give vampyrs the sun, they’ll send darkness everywhere instead.”
“Precisely,” Aramis said through gritted teeth.
Uncle Bran leaned forward in his chair, adjusting his glasses. “When does Ingrid plan to conduct the spell?”
“We didn’t find that information in time before Visha found us reading through Ingrid’s things,” Nadia said. “But neither the prince nor his dark witch were in the castle, both away on business.”
Tovi crossed her arms, bitterness coating her tongue. “Still, we must assume its tomorrow or the next. We must stop them.”
“You will need an army of your own to face him, Tovi,” Nadia said. “Sadly, the werewolves aren’t a guarantee.”
“I know.” She picked up Lord Nathanael’s letter.
She’d come to Drystan to secure allies, but with news of Ingrid’s spell, she didn’t have time on her side.
Flynn had already proved what she’d feared—marriage.
Yet, what if there was a way to protect her heart, to keep her choice, but also do right by her people?
Dance their dance, Lou had said.
The lords of Drystan thrived off prestige, land, and wealth, and unlike Riven, she had money, perhaps enough to buy exactly what she needed to face him.
“Is Lord Nathanael married?” she asked her uncle.
He nodded. “Yes.”
“Any sons?”
“No, only one daughter,” Uncle Bran said.
Perfect.
Tovi addressed the table full of expectant stares, her plan settling over her like the summer sun rays. “It’s time I replied to him about buying an army.”