Both Byron and Gerrit shot to their feet, the boy shunting the chair behind him as he stumbled backward.
Sirro’s Familiar bowed, pressing her forehead to the ground, trembling hands splayed before her.
The Horned God slowly straightened in his seat. A sinister hum ran beneath his tone, raising all the tiny hairs on the back of my neck when he spoke. “Sirro?”
In his anger, Aldert had forgotten his place.
Aldert’s knees wobbled as he swayed, his hands clawing at the tight coils of silver crushing his throat. Purple flooded his cheeks, darkening to blue as oxygen fled. His beady eyes bulged, shining with a film of tears and utter terror.
“I’d remind you, Aldert, exactly who I am.” While Aldert’s mouth gaped as he fought for an impossible breath, Sirro continued smoothly, “And that you’re not irreplaceable. Though I do understand that perhaps you’re under emotional strain right now.”
His dark power reluctantly untangled itself from Aldert’s neck.
Aldert staggered, gasping for air.
Byron retook his seat and ordered coldly. “Sit down.”
A soft thump resounded in the room when the other man practically fell into a chair, his ass hitting the cushion.
Garrit darted nervous looks between his father and Sirro. He slowly lowered himself into his seat, sitting ramrod straight, his feet braced as if he were deciding if he should bolt from the solar and leave Aldert to the Horned God.
My father and I sat back down in our respective chairs. Jett slouched against the pillowy backrest, his chest rising and falling with shallow, wet breaths, but he’d discreetly palmed a dagger.
Sirro rose, ignoring his Familiar still splayed on the ground. He slid one hand into his trouser pocket as he casually strolled across the room, the brocade curtains stirring faintly in the breeze slipping through a window cracked open. “Your House has quite the talent for mixing magic and science.” He then frowned as if a thought had suddenly occurred to him as he stopped to stand beneath the spread leaves of a palm, its fronds dipping low enough to touch. He pinched a broad, glossy frond. “But…so does House Simonis.” He made a humming sound as if in contemplation. “In fact, when I think about it, as your Lower House, Simonis are doing all the heavy work. They may be the true masters at melding magic and science…notyou.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to stop the gleeful grin.
Hellsgate. Sirro was going for the jugular.
I fucking loved it.
Pieces were being shifted around the board, and I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. What Sirro was up to. Right now, I didn’t give a fuck. I reveled in seeing Aldert Pellan put in his place. I’d feel better if he were six feet underground, but this moment was glorious.
Sirro let go of the frond, and it sprang back up. He turned to face Aldert, whose eyes widened with bewilderment, fingers massaging his throat. “Frankly, I’m getting tired of you thinking you can speak directly with me. Simply working on a special project for the Horned Gods doesn’t give you the right to move around the chain of command.” He angled his chin toward Byron. “You speak withyourleader, the Head of Great House Wychthorn, first. If Byron feels the situation deems it necessary for me to get involved, then I will.”
Byron’s steely gaze locked on Aldert, and the shorter man’s bruised throat bobbed before he rasped out. “Of course. My apologies.”
“I’m sure Danne will turn up at some point. The important thing you need to remember is this. The Alverac grants Graysen Crowther absolute authority over Nelle Wychthorn.”
“Alverac?” Aldert repeated hoarsely. “Do you mean the marriage contract?”
“Oh, Aldert.” Sirro clicked his tongue, his smile growing wholly wicked. “Your House is so young, sometimes I forget how ignorant you are of the immense age of the Horned Gods, indeed as are most of the other Houses too.” He walked toward him with carefully measured steps. “The Alverac gives Graysen Crowther every right to deal out punishment to anyone who interferes between him and Nelle.”
All the color drained from Aldert’s face, the broken capillary veins standing out in a stark web across his cheeks.
“You need to hear this, and then you can whisper it, like you’re quite fond of doing, to all the other Heads.”
There was something at play here, a simmering rage that had Sirro’s otherworldly power vibrating. Aldert had done more than offend him. The smaller man had outraged him. But I couldn’t figure out why. Was it Nelle or something else?
“Its official title is Alverac.” Sirro let the word sit in the air before continuing. “The few who have been granted the boon of the Alverac over the centuries had no idea what they possessed.” He shook his head in a disparaging way, as if disappointed by a small young child. And, I supposed, that’s exactly what most of the Houses here were compared to Sirro, the vast age he had lived, and my bloodline too. “Yet there is a solitary family amongst the Houses who knows its true worth. In the past, the possessors of the Alverac treated it like a marriage contract togive an advantage to their family by marrying into an Upper House… But this one was signed in blood.”
Byron closed his eyes.
“Graysen Crowther owns Nelle Wychthorn in its purest sense, like anobjectto do with as he wants.” He wandered toward his armchair, his polished shoes muffled by thick woolen rugs. “It gives him the right to wield judgment upon whoever gets between him and his possession.” He swiveled to face Aldert before he folded himself into his chair. “Like your son.”
“Judgment?” Aldert retorted, forgetting himself once again. “He more than likely ended my son’s life.”
Sirro smiled in that way of his that showed most of his teeth, the kind that always sent an icy shiver inching down my spine. “And Graysen Crowther has full authority to do so. As for Danne, I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure he will turn up eventually at some gambling hall before crawling back home, hoping you’ll fix some monetary matter for him.”
