Aldert Pellan hadn’t noticed us. However, his youngest son did.
Gerrit Pellan, sixteen years old, was right behind his father. His gaze met mine first before darting away to the others in the room, flaring wide to see the hunger burning from my family to snap his father’s frail bones into tiny shards.
“Father.” He tried to curl a hand around his father’s arm in warning, but Aldert shook it off with an irritated jerk of his shoulder. Gerrit swallowed, his gaze now resting on the Horned God, before retreating a step and bowing. “Master Sirro.”
Sirro inclined his head and leisurely gestured toward a seat with brass plating adorning the round-backed wood. The lanky boy quickly seated himself, his posture rigid.
I hadn’t seen much of Gerrit over the years. Even though he’d been present at Evvie’s engagement ceremony and stayed with his family at the Wychthorns that weekend, he’d kept out of my way. He favored his mother, Irma, in his looks, with a warm complexion and sun-kissed freckles across his nose rather than the heavy splattering his redheaded siblings possessed. Even his hair was browner than his autumnal brothers. But it wasn’t only his appearance that set him apart from his family. He couldn’t conceal the unease. If it were any other of his siblings seated before me, all I’d see reflected would be the conceit and entitlement the Pellans seemed to be born with. And something like remorse flickered across his features before he looked away, quick as a startled sparrow.
The sound of Aldert’s curt, imperious tone stole my attention from the younger Pellan. He bowed and addressed the Horned God. “My son is missing.”
“Which one?” Sirro frowned before a small, sly smile bloomed as he leaned forward and drawled, “You have somany.”
Aldert blinked.
His beady eyes shot about the room, and he realized rather belatedly that he had an audience of Crowthers.
“Danne.” Aldert took a step closer to me, an age-spotted hand fisting tightly at his side. I glimpsed my father tense, readying himself to intercede. I didn’t think Aldert would try to attack me. There was nothing of the man, all skin and bones and cruel intent. But I wouldn’t mind if he godsdamned tried.
Aldert’s shifty gaze slid back to Sirro. “He hasn’t been seen since the morning after the engagement blessing.”
Sirro’s finger tapped a beat on his armchair, but each tap was a hard press. The strangest, faintest tang on my tongue was coming from him. A simmering rage he was trying to curb.
“The last message I received from my son. Danne had something of worth and was returning to the Carpellean Mountains. But he never made it home.”
Byron’s jaw slackened the moment he grasped the answer he’d asked of me last night—Who stole my daughter?Hisstunned gaze sliced to Aldert.
Sirro had been walking this earth since before our god Zrenyth had birthed the Horned Gods and was clever at hiding himself. However, I suddenly realized that he didn’t look surprised at all.
His simmering rage spilled over into fury. Those coiling threads of power roiled like black storm clouds, and the entire room shook in a single pulse of rage as his dark magic punched outward. It was a split second—a surge so fast and sharp it tore through the air, detectable only by my family.
Sirro knew. Somehow, he knew Danne was behind Nelle’s abduction.
But why the outrage?
Sirro dampened that wrath. His power settled back into soft metallic silvers, which drifted like ghostly kelp about his figure. “I’m sure he did havesomeoneof worth.”
The wordsomeoneregistered within the room, and finally with Aldert.
“That would be Nelle,” I provided in a flat tone that belied the fury pumping my heart faster just to speak to the rat-faced man. “Danne was the one who abducted Nelle and replaced her with a changeling.”
I watched the confusion wash over Aldert’s pointy features, morphing into trepidation as I unfolded myself from the chair,rising and stepping closer. He was intimidated by my size and wary of my family, as he fucking should be, but there was still arrogance in the disdainful curl of his mouth. As Head of an Upper House, he believed his position protected him from the likes of me. “Surely you Crowthers were behind the changeling.”
Sirro sighed, bored. “Why on earth would the Crowthers bother? It seems like quite an ordeal to go through to exchange Nelle for a changeling when they already possessed her through their boon.”
Though confusion creased Aldert’s brow, he kept his gaze locked on mine, and the words rushed out in panic. “I can only assume Danne was helping Nelle escape. She didn’t want to go through with the marriage to you.”
Aldert had been there. He’d witnessed my reaction, Byron’s too. The half-veiled accusations we’d hurled at each other.
“DannestoleNelle against her will,” I pressed.
Aldert scoffed. “Why would—”
“Because he hated me that much. He wanted to steal what was mine.”
Anger wound around my bones and crunched the air from my lungs. A flash of memory had my knuckles burning with heat because I was clenching them so tight. Pure heart-crushing terror shone bright in her eyes when I’d slaughtered my way to her.
Aldert’s hurried retreat had me snapping back to the present.
