Sparrow looked up from her mending. “Who?”
Elspeth looked beyond Genevieve and her eyes widened.
“Your Christian name is Genevieve?” Kendrick rumbled.
Genevieve turned sharply.
“‘Woman of the tribe,’ or ‘woman of the family.’ It suits you.” He looked beyond her and bowed. “Pleased I am to meet your acquaintance, ladies. Please, do not stand on ceremony,” he said, as the women started to scramble to their feet. It would have been a difficult feat in the small space. “In truth, I am a man of humble origins.” He went to one knee and took Elspeth’s hand in his, bowing over it. “I am Kendrick.”
“This is Miss Elspeth Gibbins,” Genevieve said, taking the reins of the introductions, “and this is Miss Sparrow.” Sparrow had eschewed her former name.
“Miss Gibbins, Miss Sparrow.” He tipped his hat to Sparrow, declining to encroach farther into the small, cramped hole.
Genevieve flushed with embarrassment for how he must have seen it—a small cave in the stone and dirt, barely small enough for three people to fit, and not tall enough for her to stand up straight in. The remains of candlewax dripped down the walls, and one lone flame flickered to light the space. No belongings or furnishings. They slept wrapped in their cloaks during the daylight hours and owned little more than what they could keep in their pockets. Elspeth and Sparrow shared a small basket of sewing supplies that they guarded carefully, and that was all there was to the space.
“How do you do, sir?” Elspeth said carefully. Sparrow stared at him, wide-eyed and silent.
“Better than I have in many nights. Miss Dryden has kindly allowed me to accompany her on her rounds this eve.”
His voice had a honeyed quality to it. Genevieve had noticed it before, the first night they had spoken. With only a few sentences, he was quietly coaxing words out of Sparrow and politely inquiring how they found life in the Ossuary, how long they had lived under vampire rule—a kinder way of asking when they’d died, perhaps?—and what they were desirous of to see changed.
Sparrow mentioned the door guards. Elspeth said nothing, but Genevieve put in, “Oversight into the use of blood bonds.”
Kendrick shot her a keen glance but did not comment when Elspeth ducked her head. “I won’t take up any more of your evening,” he said, rising to his feet. “I appreciate you speaking to me. It was a pleasure to meet you both.”
They both assured him, slightly starry-eyed, that the pleasure was theirs.
Once Genevieve had turned the bend of the hallway, she stopped and said, “What on earth did you do to them?”
“Do?” Kendrick seemed genuinely puzzled.
“That—voiceof yours. Is that your talent? Did you manipulate them?” she demanded.
Realization dawned on his face, and his expression grew grave. “I assure you, Miss Dryden, I did not. But persuasion is where my talents lie, and after so many centuries, a good deal of it is instinctive and bleeds out into much of what I say and do.”
Centuries, Genevieve thought.Gracious. “So you didn’t?—”
“I did not compel your friends to speak. They simply became…more at ease with me. Because I meant what I said.” He met her eyes seriously. “This, I swear to you.”
She lifted her chin a fraction in the air. “And you’re not using your talent to persuade me now?”
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “If I were, you would know it. Indeed, youdidknow it, the first night we were introduced. And you pushed back against it. The fact is, anyone can push back on my persuasion unless I bring the full force of my will against them. And I rarely do unless the need is great. You can trust me, Genevieve,” he said quietly.
“I have not given you leave to use my Christian name,” she said, striding off again.
“Ah, but it is beautiful and rolls off the tongue. Genevieve, Genevieve, Genevieve.”
“Miss Dryden,” she corrected him, steeling herself against the way her name dripped from his tongue. Like a caress.
He laughed. “All right, Miss Dryden. Carry on.”
She stopped in at many of the other domiciles she regularly checked on, introducing to Kendrick apprehensive huddles of women who relaxed into wide-eyed wonder at his solicitous inquiries and clumps of glowering, suspicious men whose faces cracked into grins when he shook their hands and made jokes. He was correct; it was less a direct use of power and more an aura of personality that infected people. Any other night, those men might have come to blows over something inconsequential as their tempers wore thin, or the women shut down before a male authority. But not now. Because it was sincere.
Could this be real? Do we finally have a ruler who cares?Genevieve thought.
Around a bend, she came upon Robbie, probably making his way towards their bolt hole to spend a little time with Elspeth. “Are you acquainted with Mr. MacPherson, Kendrick? Sometimes I think he knows everyone in the underground.”
“I have not had the pleasure.” Kendrick held out his hand, and Robbie switched his crutch to the other arm to shake it. “MacPherson. Any relation to Cluny?”
