Or more particularly, why.
Logic said he ought to betray her to the Prime. The relic was far too dangerous to have in the wrong hands, but the other part of him, the part that knew the sensation of love whenever Ianthe spoke of the Prime, told him to wait. This game wasn't played out yet. None of this made any sense, least of all why Ianthe would betray a man she adored. He'd merely uncovered a trick hand.
Besides, he had no sense of loyalty to the Prime. If he owed anyone his loyalty, it might possibly be her. With a scowl, Lucien broke off one of the small lilac flowers that sat on the vase on their table, toying with the wooden stem. The color reminded him of her eyes, but the petals were far too delicate and easy to crush. That was not Ianthe. Or at least, he prayed it was not.
"The servants?" Ianthe paused with a forkful of roast squab by her mouth. So far, she'd been eating mechanically, her mind a million miles away. "What servants?"
"The Prime's servants," he replied, reaching across the table to cup her hand beneath his as her gaze drifted to the window again. "I know you can't name any of them who might be our thief, but we're making no progress here." A full morning of fruitless searching stretched behind them, in which they'd traversed half the hotels in this part of the city. Morgana might have been staying at the Windsor at one stage, but she was long gone now.
"I don't think it's the servants. What about what Horroway said about Tremayne?"
"Certainly something to look into, but I want to establish a link between he and the Prime's house. So far all we've done is chase our tail. We know Morgana is in London and she's possibly working with Tremayne, but there's no evidence that either of them stole the relic. We need to start at the beginning, rather than look at a list of people who might, or might not, be suspects, and we need to move faster than we have been." He decided to push her a little. "One would think we were taking a scenic tour of London from the pace we've held in the last couple of days, rather than verging on the edge of certain disaster."
"I see." Ianthe's color had faded, but she sipped at her tea, thoughts racing behind her eyes as she took her hand back from him. A flare of icy gray tinged her expression: nervousness.
Come on. Tell me the truth. Tell me where you've hidden it. Or what you plan to do with it.
"Among the servants, who might have wished Drake ill or been persuaded it would be in their best interests to steal the relic?"
"None who had the opportunity or the means," she replied. "Lucien, Drake and I have been over this."
"Humor me."
Ianthe put her teacup down. "I just... I cannot think of any one of them who might have done it."
"Drake can't be so widely loved that one of them wouldn't have stabbed him in the back. After all, someone did. Just because you care for him, it doesn't mean they all do. We should draw them all in and interrogate them."
"He's a good master," she retorted. "A good man. They might not have meant to do it—"
"That's a rather generous assessment. There's a half dozen reasons that a loyal servant could betray his master: greed, fear... blackmail." The second he said it, his heart skipped a beat. He'd been looking at this wrong, trying to test her allegiances, but it was clear that her loyalty toward the Prime was not in any doubt.
No, but loyalty, whilst a strength, could also be a weakness.
Bloody hell. Lucien sat frozen as every instinct in his mind detonated with certainty. Ianthe's loyalty had never been in any doubt. Even now she argued as assiduously for the man as she ever had, but what if someone was holding something over her head?
"Well, we cannot interrogate them," Ianthe stammered. "Drake doesn't want the rest of the Order to know. With the comet in the sky, if the Order even suspects he has a weakness..."
Oh yes, he'd been looking at this wrong. "Very well. We'll keep looking for the person who would most desire the relic." Because that was who was blackmailing her, he was certain.
Morgana. And Tremayne.
"Why don't we separate for the afternoon?" she suggested. "You can continue covering the hotels, while I go see an old friend of mine. He used to know Tremayne. I should stress that neither of us should engage, should we discover where they're hiding."
He didn't like to think of her out there on her own. "I don't—"
"I can handle myself, Lucien."
Ianthe never liked to be considered vulnerable, but then perhaps she did not realize that it wasn't her vulnerability that concerned him, so much as the thought of her being harmed. Right now, she was far stronger than he, but still mortal. If something happened to her... His fingers curled into a ball at the thought, but the piece of lilac bit into his palm. He eased his fingers, so as not to destroy it. His fingers were too big, but he tried to soothe out one crushed petal.
Well, wasn't that a bloody revelation. Lucien sank back into his seat, fingering the flower. He wasn't about to enlighten her with it. "Where shall we meet?"
"At home? For dinner at six?"
Her home. Not his. But it was starting to feel like a place that had meaning to him.
"I shall see you there," Lucien said, then stood and tucked the bloody flower in his pocket before taking himself off to go hunt for mad sorcerers. "Be careful."
"I always am."
