Chapter 240: Domino

LYSANDER

"They owe us the seal, though. Do they not? I admit I don’t know much about the arrangement, but it must have been something my family negotiated. My uncle Cornelius, perhaps, or even my grandfather. They must have offered the families something in return. We could do the same."

"They owe us nothing. The terms of the bargain were fulfilled, and some of the men who made it are dead." His tone hardened. "Some of those still living no longer feel bound by it. Neither will they care to be reminded of it. But the fear of being hunted? That will change things."

I walked a few paces along the gravel. A pebble dug into my heel, and I welcomed the small discomfort.

"You want me to manipulate them," I said slowly. "To feed them terror until they agree to obey."

"I want you to give them the truth in a way that will move them."

"That is the same thing, and you know it."

"It is not so very different."

"I will not do it. Because that is how it begins. You permit one thing, then another, and before long, the boundaries you once thought immovable have shifted beyond recognition."

The line fell silent for a long breath.

"Then I cannot stop you, Your Majesty," Bradley said at last. "But I wanted you to know that I would."

A short, tired laugh escaped me. "At least you’re an honest man."

"It is the one vice I have never quite managed to overcome."

"I appreciate what you’ve done." I meant it, and I wanted him to understand that I did. "Getting to the Shelters, going there yourself and taking on the burden of telling that man what happened. I am grateful, Bradley. But you were too quick with it. Too quick, and too forceful in your demands. A man cannot bury his daughter in the afternoon and sign a treaty by evening. Particularly not one involving magical seals."

"I am aware."

"Then why..."

"Because there was no point pretending," Bradley interrupted, and for the first time, his voice faltered. "Pretending any of it was altruistic. I stood in that man’s parlour and told him his daughter was a murderer. I did that to him. I performed what courtesies I could before delivering the blow, in the same way a man might be gentle while preparing to cut. But it was not kindness. It was a difficult thing done for a difficult reason, and I will not insult him or you by pretending otherwise."

I stopped walking.

I thought of Willow Shelter, small and grey beneath the linen. I thought of her father kneeling beside her, and of the man speaking into my ear, whose voice was trembling with something he was doing his best to keep buried.

"His response was natural," I said quietly. "What he said, what he did. It was the response of a father."

"I know."

"He is entitled to it."

"I know that too."

"I will speak to him myself."

Bradley’s breath caught. "Your Majesty..."

"Not tonight. Not this week, either. Let him bury his daughter. Let him have a few days with his wife. But I will go to Bellowstand myself, in person, without an entourage of sentinels. I will sit in his parlour and tell him what he is owed." I drew a breath of the cold night air. "And I will do the same for the other families we haven’t yet reached. I will not keep sending you to do my kneeling for me."

"I have no objection to that."

"You would if you thought it through."

"I’ve thought it through." A trace of dry humour touched his voice. "I would only ask that you allow me to remain close."

"I imagine that would be a difficult request to refuse. Very well, then."

Another pause followed. I heard the faint creak of leather, the sound of a man shifting his weight against a car seat.

"The Blossom house will help, I believe," Bradley continued, his tone brisker now. "Valentine’s daughter did assist us once, and she has already seen the dead. Besides, the Shelters and the Blossoms have never been particularly fond of each other. That may work in our favour. I believe they will listen. I’ll approach the Dornan coven tomorrow, and after that..." He hesitated. "I intend to reach out to the Wicker house."

The name fell into my chest like a stone dropped into a well.

The night seemed to draw in around me. The owl had gone quiet, and I stood with the phone pressed to my ear, a cold knot tightening beneath my ribs. For a moment, I could no longer feel the gravel beneath my feet.

"That would be my..."

I stopped. My mouth closed sharply around the unfinished word, the movement almost painful.

I hadn’t meant to say it. The word had risen before I could catch it, unbidden, the way a name sometimes found its way to the tongue after years of being kept behind one’s teeth.

"Yes," Bradley said softly.

He didn’t make me finish. I would remember that later, with a gratitude that would hurt more than I cared to admit. He allowed the silence to remain between us for a moment before giving me the word I had been unable to say.

"Yes."

I lifted my eyes to the moon.

Wicker.

I hadn’t heard the name spoken aloud in years. I had scarcely allowed myself to think of it, except in those unguarded hours of the night when a man could no longer keep watch over every corner of his own mind.

A house of runes and old magic, on the western edge of the marshes. A woman with a long braid and a mouth that always seemed on the verge of laughter.

"Will she help?" I asked.

My voice emerged steadier than I had expected.

"Given how things ended between us, and how they still are..."

"They are family, aren’t they?" Bradley said. His tone was careful, deliberate, like a man laying a plank across a gap. "Blood is blood. I’m sure it will be fine."

I didn’t believe him. I suspected he knew that, too. But I had asked a question, and he had given me the kindest answer a Beta could offer. I accepted it as a drowning man accepts a rope, with both hands and without the luxury of believing it would save him.

"Yes," I said. "I suppose they are."

"I’ll send word tomorrow."

"Do." I cleared my throat, though the tightness remained. "And thank you again, Bradley. For all of it. You’ve done more tonight than I had any right to ask of you."

"It is my duty, Your Majesty."

"It is more than that, and we both know it." I let the words rest between us before continuing. "Get some rest."

"I’ll do my best."

"That isn’t an answer."

"It’s the only one I have."

Despite myself, I almost smiled.

"Good night, Bradley."

"Good night, Your Majesty."

I ended the call, and the screen went dark in my hand.

For a long moment, I remained where I was, standing in the middle of the lawn with the phone in one hand, the towel still damp against my hips, and the vast, cold sky turning slowly overhead. Down the slope, the lake had settled almost completely. A single ripple travelled across its surface, followed by another, before the darkness swallowed them.

Wicker.

Behind me, a lamp came on in the window of our bedroom, high up in the manor. Its yellow light spilled across the lawn, laying a long, warm square over the grass.

I looked up at it for a while.

Then I turned and went inside.