Theodore’s expression was a stone wall. “And why didn’t you get in contact with Patrol? Or try to tell my consort beforehand?”
Swallowing hard, she glanced around the room at the rigid, faceless guards. Her voice dropped to something just above a whisper when she answered, “We thought there might be a traitor inside the Tower and couldn’t take the risk when I had no way of speaking to either of you directly. I only had her secretary’s number, and what if she was in on it? Gods know something even worse could’ve happened. There just— there just wasn’t time to figure anything else out.”
There was a beat of silence. Theodore’s expression didn’t change one iota as he stared hard at Petra, taking her measure. Then, like the cracking of an ice sheet, something a little more human came through the severity.
Theodore sank stiffly onto the opposite couch. The air shifted. The change was nearly imperceptible, but every guard loosened their stance just enough to not appear as though they were ready to shoot on command.
“Fine. I believe you,” he announced, sounding suddenly exhausted. In the span of a blink, he went from a man on the brink of violence to one deeply shaken. His blue skin was chalky and his eyes slightly too wide, like he was going into shock — or might throw up on his tacky carpet.
Theodore fisted his hands between his knees. The line of his shoulders rounded ever-so-slightly when he peered at Petra from beneath his brows. “Tell me what’s going on. The whole story.”
Sitting up slowly, like she had to will some steel back into her spine, Petra answered, “When we first met, I… Well, I came to San Francisco to solve Maximilian Dooraker’s murder. He was my uncle.” She blinked hard and something tender in his chest squeezed.
Acting on instinct, Silas wrapped an arm around her shoulders and dragged her into his side. She pressed her hand to his heart. Slowly, the tension in her muscles loosened. “I believed that he was killed when he confronted a man named Antonin Vanderpoel. I didn’t know what for or why, but I knew that was what he’d planned the last time I spoke to him. Just before he was announced dead and cremated with no investigation, no ceremony, no… No nothing.”
“Antonin Vanderpoel?” Theodore’s brow furrowed. “Why do I know that name?”
“He’s the Protector of the Gloriae,” she answered. “Or hewas.”
The elf’s heavy brows rose. “Was?”
Brushing self-consciously at the bloody handprint on her chest, she answered, “He shot me a few weeks ago. He’s dead now.”
Theodore’s gaze wandered back to Silas, who offered him a glib smile. The sovereign’s frown deepened. “Is that why you disappeared?”
“Technically I did announce I was going on sabbatical,” she hedged, “but yes. I was injured, so my mate took me somewhere safe to recover. Honestly, I thought that was the end of things. I figured if Antonin was dead, then…” She waved a hand in the air. “But obviously that was naive.”
Turning to Silas, she murmured, “Do you have the file on you still?”
After a quick pat of his slacks, he discovered the folded up and slightly blood stained file. Petra passed it to the sovereign, who wrinkled his nose when he gingerly accepted it. “Antonin was in charge of intelligence for the Temple. He collected blackmail on just about everyone you can imagine, and we took almost all of it with us when we left,” she explained. “He was also head of the Ardeo, which we believe he and another person were using as their personal army.”
Still holding the bedraggled file with the very tips of his claws, Theodore scoffed, “The Ardeo hasn’t?—”
“Yeah, I thought so, too,” Silas interrupted, just for fun. “But you’re wrong.”
Theodore scowled, but before he could tell Silas to shut his mouth, Petra jumped in to explain, “I don’t believe it’s what you’re thinking, Sovereign. It’s not the massive, kitted out army the Temple used to have. It’s more like— It’s more like a shadow squad.”
Every elf in the room tensed. Sitting up straight, Theodore demanded, “Explain.”
“I don’t mean to offend or bring up bad memories,” Petra replied, holding up her hands, “but I’m not being hyperbolic. Your father had his shadow squad, who answered only to him and were used to collect intelligence, silence dissenters, and disappear people. That’s the Ardeo we’re talking about now. I think it’s like your father’s shadow squad, but on a much smaller scale. Antonin spent gods know how long using them to amassinformation and power, and when the time was right, we believe he intended to use his soldiers to stage a coup.”
She nodded toward the file in the sovereign’s rigid grip. Speaking in a gentler tone, she said, “He even had information on people close to you, Sovereign.”
Theodore looked down at the file. His jaw hardened as he slowly peeled apart the wrinkled pages. His lashes obscured his gaze as he took in the contents of the file for several long seconds.
Carefully, he extracted the old black and white photograph of Sophie Goode and her sister from the file and held it to the light. One edge had been slightly stained, but it was otherwise mostly unharmed.
A single guard, utterly indistinguishable from the rest, peeled away from the wall behind the sovereign and bent to whisper something in his ear.
Speaking slowly and with his gaze still on the photograph, Theodore murmured, “Patrol just found a large group of men with weapons in one of the locked areas of the Tower.” His eyes flicked upward. There was no softness in them, no mercy, when he finished, “You said there was a traitor working with Antonin. Who?”
“I… We didn’t have time to dig more,” Petra explained, looking relieved but also a little sick, “but there were mentions of elves and trips to the desert. Las Vegas, too. There was too much information for us to sort through so quickly, but we’ll hand it all over to you and your people. Hopefully you can find the truth and you can figure out what to do with all the men roped into the coup.”
Silas balked. “Wewill?”
“Yes,” Petra replied, giving him alook,“because we’re the good guys, remember?”
“They have all the soldiers in their custody,” he argued, deeply vexed to be giving up the ace in their pocket. “We saved their lives and their territory. I don’t see why we can’t keepsomeinsurance.”
