“You’re a soldier.” His father pressed his hands into the chair’s arms and rose. His presence towered over Theo, but he was already in the stages of falling from his prime. He may have had a couple of inches on him, but Theo was still stronger. “You don’t get to deny an order.”
“This is an order then, not a request?”
“This will be the last of this conversation. Delegate your investigation into Duncaster to one of your soldiers. I want you focused on earning her trust and learning who Miss Carter is. Is that clear?”
Theo’s body acted of its own accord, rising from the desk and interlacing his hands behind his back. “Yes, sir.” He was a captain and should’ve been spending every moment investigating the Duncaster disappearances, not trading stories with Amaris.
“Your people are depending on you. We’ve invited a viper into our midst, and we must be prepared.”
My people.Everything their family did was for the people of Luana, not for themselves, but the people his father cared for held titles or had enough gold that their pockets dragged against the floor. Theo had brief bouts of jealousy of Esaias and his strength to step away from the life of nobility when he moved to Luana to be a soldier. Now was certainly one of those moments.
“What am I to do when I discover she isn’t the murderer?”
“Are you certain she isn’t?”
Theo’s weight shifted beneath him. He hardly knew her, but she’d saved his life. His mind was swallowed by the grim memory of standing outside After’s gates and Kedes’s claws reaching out. He shuddered, gripping the hilt of his dagger.
His father went on. “Don’t go into this believing she’s innocent. Believe the worst until she proves otherwise. I’m certain with what I heard during the war, you’ll have no trouble extracting the truth from her.”
His father’s taste for power and control was overwhelming. He knew more about the war than Theo believed him to. He turned, reaching for the door.
“Do whatever is necessary to earn her trust. I only ask, Theodoric, that you remain professional and refrain from procreating. We don’t need a bastard staining the Fastrada bloodline.”
Theo flung the door open, wishing it would snap from its hinges as he stepped into the hall. He ignored his father’s disapproving grunt as a servant came racing toward him with flushed cheeks and panting breaths.
What is it now?
§
Theo moved swiftlydown the hall, not caring that he was sending paintings to turn on end or passing servants at an alarming rate. He raced toward Esaias’s room, stopping and pounding on the door.
A muffled sound came from the other side. Theo grasped the handle and entered the bedchamber. Esaias was in bed with his golden quilt pulled up to his chin. Onika was at his side, pressing a compress to his forehead. She turned her head and offered a weak smile. She pulled a stray strand of her dark curls and wound it tightly behind her ear.
“Can we have a moment, Onika?” Theo asked.
She raised a brow but dropped the rag in the basin of water. As a servant of the manor, she wore the same white dress and beige apron as all the rest, but a gold necklace could always be seen poking out at the back of her neck. Theo always wondered why she hid it instead of displaying it over her dress. Maybe it was family heirloom.
She stood, brushing her umber-colored hands across her apron. Shestopped at Theo’s side, her head barely coming to his shoulder.
“He was fine the last few days, hardly more than a cough—” Theo began.
“He’s caught a fever and hasn’t thrown a single insult at me,” she said, which, when it came to Onika and Esaias, that was grim news. “I found him unconscious in the stables last night. He hadn’t been able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time throughout the night.”
“Did he catch something in Duncaster? Has anyone else fallen ill?”
“I’m not sure where he caught it, but I haven’t heard of any other cases.”
“Thank you.”
Onika nodded, and Theo hardly heard her leave or the familiar click of the latch when she closed the door. The ceiling pressed against his shoulders. He went to Esaias’s side and sat in the small chair beside his bed.
“Esaias,” Theo whispered.
Esaias answered him with a moan. His skin was pale, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. Theo grabbed the rag, wringing it out and dragging it across his brow.
“Theo,” he wheezed.
“I thought you only attracted women, not a plague,” Theo said.
