"Tell me what you saw," she commanded again. Black crinoline whispered about Lady Eberhardt's legs as she walked to the opposite chair and settled into it. Her feet were bare, long toes sinking into the carpets, which was shocking. Her large, angular eyes seemed to hint at secrets. If not for the curtain spill of silvery hair around her face, he would have been quite unable to pick her age.
Lucien ground the heel of his palm against his forehead. It was aching again, but he tried to work through the multitude of images in his head and translate them into sound.
After he'd finished, Lady Eberhardt simply stared at him, chewing on one of the figs that sat on a plate on the table. "Interesting," she murmured, looking inward. "Describe the woman."
"I think the greater concern would be the demon, would it not?" he replied.
"Describe the woman," she said again.
Miss Martin gave him a nudge.
"She was possibly the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, though there was no blush of youth upon her. Dark hair, with a few strands of grey that looked like they'd been dyed, and green eyes." He thought about it. "She looked mysterious, as though she knew secrets that I didn't—as though she enjoyed knowing such secrets. And I'm fairly certain there was a tattoo on her inner wrist. A snake, perhaps. Or Ouroboros. She said she was coming for the last relic."
Lady Eberhardt paled. "That's not possible."
"You recognize her?" Miss Martin asked.
Lady Eberhardt found her feet, swishing to the cold fireplace and staring into the coals. "Maxwell!"
The butler appeared at the door, as if by magic. "Milady?"
"Send word to Bishop. Tell him I want him here immediately."
A slight arch of the brow, and then the butler disappeared again.
Lady Eberhardt rubbed her hands together. "Three sons," she muttered. "Three relics. Bloody hell. Now this."
Miss Martin rose and went to her. "You're not making any sense. Who is this woman?"
Lady Eberhardt's mouth thinned. "Morgana de Wynter, by the sounds of it, though I'd not thought to see her on this side of the Channel again, after the scandal of the divorce."
A tiny itch of distress lanced through the bond between them, and Lucien looked up sharply. Miss Martin had paled. "The Prime's ex-wife," he said.
"Yes," Lady Eberhardt replied grimly. "That bitch is back."
Ianthe knew the story, of course, though only from hearsay. Drake never spoke of his ex-wife, or the scandal of the divorce.
Only once had he breathed word of Morgana: "Her Arts were that of Illusion, and what is illusion but deception? What I did not understand when I married her was that her very nature was that of illusion too. She gave you exactly what you wanted to see, and underneath lurked the deception. Underneath..." His face had grown somewhat sad then. "Underneath was a stranger who you didn't even know."
"It all started nearly thirty-five years ago," Lady Eberhardt said. "A young girl had come to the Order a couple of years earlier, begging for sanctuary. She would not reveal her name, only that she knew sorcery and that she wished to be called Morgana, after Morgan le Fay." A faint arch of the brow dictated her thoughts on that. "That should have been the first warning sign.
"After her years of apprenticeship, she met Drake at one of the Equinox balls. The pair had something in common, an interest in those that we call demons and the dimensions, or planes of existence, from which they came. Morgana was a great flirt, toying with the emotions of those around her, including Drake and his then-friend Tremayne. One moment, it seemed certain that she would accept Drake's suit, the next she'd be gadding about with Tremayne." Lady Eberhardt snorted. "I never trusted the little bitch, but Drake won her over. The competition between he and Tremayne hadn't ended, however, and both were determined to be the first to safely control a Greater Demon. The Relics Infernal were created, and it was only then that Drake began to realize how dangerous such a creation could be.
"This was the first step in the downfall of his marriage. Morgana helped him steal the relics from Tremayne, but the cost of the events had taken its toll. Morgana was now married to the Prime of the Order, a worthy position in her eyes, and certainly one in which she used every opportunity to lord it over the rest of us mere adepts. But Drake was beginning to assert his authority and could not be so easily swayed by his wife. Morgana began to grow flirtatious again, seeking to control her young husband through jealousy." Lady Eberhardt rolled her eyes. "It was a constant battle of wills between them, often ending in the bedchamber, but over time... Drake grew tired of the battle. He threw himself into a new direction for the Order, offering to serve the young Queen and her cabinet. Anything to allay the common people's fears toward sorcery, especially after Sir Davis's reign of secrecy. It was a worthy cause, but Morgana was furious at his lack of attention. There was no heir conceived between them, and her husband was spending more and more time away from her. Even rumors that she'd taken a lover could not bring her husband back to her. Another young lady had caught his eye. One who shared his ideas and helped to guide his vision with her talents of Divination. One who rarely fought with him, a true meeting of minds. The only unfortunate fact was that she was already married."
A prickling silence entered the room. Lucien lifted his head, those golden eyes blazing. "My mother."
"Your mother," Lady Eberhardt said, with some satisfaction. "I liked Lady Rathbourne. She told me once that she'd always known she would meet the man she would fall in love with, when it was too late. That's the problem with being able to see hints of your future, but not enough of it. Lord Rathbourne, of course, did not appreciate the fact that his wife was swelling with another man's bastard. Drake was forced to give your mother up, but Lady Rathbourne's pregnancy infuriated Morgana. She wanted her power back, her control."
"And so she schemed to poison Drake's nephew," Ianthe whispered, knowing the story well. She couldn't even fathom how a woman could do that to a child.
"Unfortunately, yes," Lady Eberhardt replied. "I think Morgana realized that a child could be her route to power. She began working on potions to bring life to her barren womb, but the problem was, her husband had no interest in her bed, following the death of his nephew, Richard. Drake was... shattered. I watched that little bitch worm her way back into his good graces, all sympathy and consolation, and then barely three weeks later, Morgana starts crowing about her pregnancy. That was when I began to grow suspicious. Who had the most to gain from Richard's death? She did. Who knew the Darker Arts? Who knew poisons? Morgana. The trail slowly began to lead back to her, and the woman was arrested. The first thing she did was tell Drake that he'd never see his child alive, if he tried to press through this divorce or her verdict. Drake was furious, of course, and presented his case to the Order. They ruled in his favor, and the Queen granted him his divorce in parliament." Lady Eberhardt's eyes grew sad. "None of us truly thought she'd go through with her threats. The next day, her guards were found murdered. Morgana had vanished, and a week later, the body of Drake's unborn son arrived in a box. Drake swore then, that if Morgana ever returned to these shores, she would be arrested and executed immediately by the Order for treason. The order is still signed."
The room fell silent.
"How on earth do you know all of this?" Rathbourne demanded.
Lady Eberhardt sipped her tea, looking amused. "Before I married my last husband, I served as one of the three councilors for the Order. I signed that execution warrant, my boy, and I'm privy to an entire host of secrets that nobody else knows."
