Before I could respond, the elevator doors at the far end of the lobby slid open, and a man in a charcoal suit stepped out. Mr Whitehall, I presumed, from the way the receptioniststraightened in her chair. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of face that had been trained into permanent neutrality.
"Gentlemen," he said as he approached, his voice smooth and professional. "I understand you've been inquiring about Miss Turner."
"Inquiring?" Ryder echoed with a harsh laugh. "Is that what we're calling it when armed enforcers break down our door and drag our Consort away without explanation?" Whitehall's expression didn't change.
"I assure you, the Trivium doesn't act without due cause. If you'll follow me, perhaps we can discuss this in a more private setting." I exchanged glances with Cole and Ryder. It was the first real progress we'd made in hours. With a curt nod, I gestured for Whitehall to lead the way.
The office he led us to was on the fifteenth floor, a corner room with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of London. It was clearly designed to impress, to remind visitors of the power and reach of the Trivium. I wasn't impressed. I was fucking furious.
"Where is she?" I demanded the moment the door closed behind us. Whitehall took his time settling behind his desk, arranging his suit jacket just so. The deliberate delay was calculated, a power play that made me want to reach across the desk and throttle him.
"Miss Turner is being held in a secure location within the building," he said finally. "She's comfortable, I assure you."
"What are the charges?" Cole asked, his voice steady despite the tension I could see in the set of his shoulders. Whitehall folded his hands on the desk.
"Miss Turner stands accused of fraud against the Trivium, falsification of scholarship credentials, and violation of the Legacy Code."
"That's bullshit," Ryder snapped. "Cade didn't falsify anything." I shot him a warning look. We all knew the truth, that we had manipulated Cade's transfer to Courts House, that we had falsified documents to make it happen. But admitting that now would only make things worse for her.
"Well, the allegations seem to say differently," Whitehall replied, and I felt Ryder stiffen beside me.
"I fucking knew it," he snarled. "Julia's behind this. I want her to show her face. Now." A flicker of something, confusion, perhaps?, crossed Whitehall's features.
"Miss Latters? I'm afraid you're mistaken, Mr Purcell. Miss Latters isn't the one who raised these allegations."
"Then who did?" I demanded, a sense of dread building in my gut. Whitehall hesitated, as if weighing the implications of his following words.
"The charges were brought by Mr Aaron Purcell and Mr Thomas Blackwood Senior. Both highly respected members of the Trivium's outer circle." The air seemed to leave the room all at once. Beside me, Ryder had gone completely still, his face draining of colour.
"My father?" he whispered, the words barely audible. "My father did this?" Whitehall nodded, his expression carefully neutral.
"Along with Mr Blackwood, yes."
"Those motherfucking-" Ryder's voice broke, rage and betrayal warring in his expression. "This is payback. This is fucking payback."
I understood immediately. This was more person than I liked. We had killed Blackwood's son for beating his girlfriend. It hadbeen sanctioned by the Trivium to send him a violent message, but he had spouted his mouth and things got out of hand. Then Ryder’s father. He swore he would get back at Ryder after Ryder had stopped him from hurting Luce and threatened him if he went near her.
"I'll kill him," Ryder said, his voice suddenly calm, terrifyingly so. "I'm going to kill my father so slowly he'll beg for death before I'm done." Whitehall's expression remained impassive, but I saw the flicker of alarm in his eyes.
"Mr Purcell, I should remind you that threats against members of the Trivium are taken very seriously."
"It's not a threat," Ryder replied, his eyes cold. "It's a fucking promise." Cole placed a restraining hand on Ryder's arm, but his focus remained on Whitehall.
"We need to speak with James Killingham or one of the other High Lords. This is clearly a personal vendetta, not a legitimate investigation." Whitehall shifted in his seat, the first sign of discomfort he'd shown.
"I'm afraid Mr Killingham is currently out of the country on Trivium business. As are Lords Harrison and Blake."
"All three High Lords are conveniently away?" I asked, my suspicion growing by the second. "When will they return?"
"I couldn't say," Whitehall replied smoothly. "Their schedules are not made public, even within the organisation."
"When is Cade's hearing?" Cole pressed.
"The council will convene in approximately forty-eight hours to review the evidence and make their determination."
"Forty-eight hours?" I echoed, incredulous. "These hearings typically take weeks, if not months, to organise. Why the rush?" Whitehall spread his hands in a gesture of false helplessness.
"Given the serious nature of the allegations and Miss Turner's... unique position as a Consort, the council felt itprudent to resolve this matter quickly." Bullshit, I could smell the lies he was spouting. Something else was going on here.
