Chapter 170: Schemes in Tandem

Chapter 170: Chapter 170: Schemes in Tandem

Cloudmere Lane was at its busiest in the late afternoon.

Carts rattled over the cobblestones, hawkers shouted over one another, and the smell of roasted chestnuts drifted out of every second doorway.

Inside Aunt Imogen’s tavern, the storyteller had just reached the part of his tale where the bandit king discovered his bride was a princess in disguise, and the crowd around him had gone completely silent with anticipation.

Behind the counter, Imogen unfolded the letter Miriam had brought her.

She read it once.

Then she read it again, and the corners of her mouth slowly lifted.

"That girl," she murmured.

Miriam waited anxiously beside the counter. "My lady, is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" Imogen folded the letter and tucked it into her sleeve. "Not at all. Go back and tell Her Grace that her aunt understands perfectly. By tomorrow, the whole of the Velvet Lantern will have heard about it."

Miriam did not know what ’it’ was, but she curtsied and hurried off.

Imogen watched her go. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and walked over to the storyteller’s table just as the crowd burst into applause.

"Tobin," she said quietly, leaning down beside the old man. "Tonight, before you start the second tale, I want you to tell them something else."

---

The Penhale residence stood at the far end of a narrow street in the western quarter.

It was a modest house. Clean, well kept, and a little shabby around the edges, the way houses became when a family had a respectable name but very little money to go with it.

An unadorned carriage stopped in front of it shortly after noon.

The man who opened the door was in his late forties, broad-shouldered, his hair cropped short in the way of soldiers. He wore the dark blue coat of a knight-captain of the city watch, and when he saw who was sitting in the carriage, all the colour drained from his face.

"Your Grace."

Sir Hollis Penhale bowed so low that his back creaked.

"Sir Hollis." Cassiel’s voice was calm. "May I come in?"

The sitting room was small. A guard carried the wheelchair over the threshold while Sir Hollis stood stiffly by the hearth, clearly unsure whether he was supposed to sit or simply kneel in the presence of the Duke of Draevenor.

Cassiel did not waste time.

"Three nights ago, your son fought with Xanther Asheford outside the Velvet Lantern."

Sir Hollis’s jaw tightened.

"I’ve also heard the reason," Cassiel continued. "Your daughter is with child."

For a long moment, the room was silent.

Then Sir Hollis spoke, his voice low and rough. "My son is young and hot-headed, Your Grace. He should not have raised his hand. If you’ve come to demand an apology on behalf of the Asheford family, I will give it."

"I haven’t."

Sir Hollis looked up.

"I’ve come to ask what you intend to do."

The older man’s hands curled into fists at his sides. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to hit something.

"What can I do?" he said at last. "I am a knight-captain of the watch. He is General Benedict Asheford’s son... and the Duke of Draevenor’s own cousin. If I take this before a magistrate, my daughter’s name will be dragged through every tavern in Caelvyr, and he will walk away laughing. If I say nothing, she will raise a child without a father."

He let out a bitter breath.

"So I will do whatever Your Grace would have me do."

Cassiel looked at him for a while.

"Where is your daughter?"

Sir Hollis hesitated, then called towards the stairs.

The girl who came down was perhaps eighteen. She had a pale, pretty face and red-rimmed eyes, and she stopped on the last step as if she might turn and run back up at any moment.

Then something changed in her eyes.

She saw the man in the wheelchair, and she did not run. She lifted her chin and curtsied properly.

"Miss Penhale," Cassiel said. "I want to ask you something, and I want you to answer honestly. Not for your father’s sake, and not for mine."

Odette swallowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

"If Xanther Asheford married you, with a proper ceremony and a proper settlement, and took you far from the capital, would you accept?"

Sir Hollis made a sound of disbelief.

Odette, however, did not answer immediately.

She looked down at her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet but steady.

"I don’t love him anymore, Your Grace. I don’t think I ever truly did. He said many sweet things, and I was foolish enough to believe them." She drew a breath.

"But I want my child to have a name. And I would rather be a wife somewhere far away than a disgrace here, where my father has to hear people whisper about me every time he walks through the market."

Cassiel nodded slowly.

"Then that is what will happen," he said. "You and your child will be safe. If anyone tries to bully you after the marriage, you need only send word to Draevenor, and it will be dealt with."

He turned to her father.

"My subordinate will come by this evening with the details, Sir Hollis. Follow them exactly."

Sir Hollis stared at him. "Your Grace... will he marry my daughter willingly? He will surely refuse. And his mother—"

"He won’t be given the chance."

Cassiel’s tone did not change, but something in it made the older man fall silent.

The knight-captain’s mouth opened, then closed again.

It was Odette who spoke first. She sank into a deeper curtsy, her voice trembling only slightly.

"Thank you for your kindness, Your Grace."

---

By the time the lamps were lit at the Velvet Lantern, Xanther had already finished half a jug of wine.

He sat at his usual table in the corner, scowling at the dice as they rolled against him for the fourth time in a row.

The end of the month was coming. The men who had come to the side gate would come again, and this time, they would not leave with promises.

"Heard the old storyteller at Cloudmere Lane tonight," someone said at the next table.

"The bandit king again?"

"No, something else. He talked about a unique collector from the south. Strange fellow. Pays top coin for old jewellery. He is fond of family pieces with history, even crested ones, and the older the better. As long as you can amuse him with a corresponding story. Doesn’t ask where they came from, either. Says he’ll take them back south, where nobody’s ever heard of our noble houses. He has travelled to Caelvyr after a long time and is staying in the city for a few days. "

Xanther’s hand stilled around his cup.

"Where can I find this collector?"

The man glanced at him, then shrugged. "How should I know? Ask the woman who runs the tavern. Maybe he’s taken a room in one of the inns."

Xanther set down his cup.

For the first time in weeks, he smiled.

---

Cassiel’s carriage did not return to Draevenor until long after dark.

He had spent the rest of the afternoon at the Northern Garrison, signing orders and reviewing supply routes for the journey north. By the time the carriage turned through the manor gates, most of the windows had already gone dark.

He went straight to his study.

The door had barely closed behind him when one of his shadow guards appeared.

"Your Grace."

"Report."

"This afternoon, Her Grace sent her maid Miriam to Cloudmere Lane with a sealed letter. The letter went to Lady Imogen’s tavern. Tonight, the storyteller there spread word of a southern collector buying old jewellery. The same rumour reached the Velvet Lantern by evening." The guard paused. "Master Xanther has already asked after him."

Cassiel was silent.

Earlier that day, Bran had mentioned that Elysia had sent for all the household ledgers and spent hours going through them. He did not know what was going through her head at the time.

Now, he thought of the pendant.

He thought of Xanther’s debts, which he himself had been keeping track of for some time.

And he thought of his wife, sitting alone at her desk with her sleeves rolled up, quietly working out exactly where the weak point was.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

So she saw it too.

She had not come to him for help.

She had not even mentioned it.

She had simply looked at Rose Hall, understood what would happen once he left, and decided she would not wait for it.

Something twinged in his chest.

A part of him wished she would rely on him more. That she would share her worries with him instead of carrying them alone.

And yet, he could not help feeling proud of her. Fiercely, almost foolishly proud.

If she wanted to handle this herself, then he would let her.

He would simply make sure nothing stood in her way.

"Your Grace?" the guard asked uncertainly.

Cassiel came back to himself. He beckoned the guard closer and spoke a few words in a low voice.

The guard’s eyes flickered. He listened without interrupting, then gave a single nod.

"And Her Grace?"

"She is not to know."

The guard bowed and vanished into the night.

When Cassiel finally entered the bedchamber, the candles had burned low.

Elysia had not gone to bed. She had fallen asleep at the small table by the window, her cheek resting on an open ledger, a pen still loosely held between her fingers.