Page 47 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘That’s putting it kindly,’ Jules says with a smile Lachlan’s seen a million times before under the glass dome of the ballroom.

‘Even so, I wish my boy was more like you.’

‘You have a son?’

‘Sure do.’ Troy’s smile is bulletproof, and he seems weirdly interested in Jules, which makes Lachlan’s hackles stand all the way on edge.

‘Danya,’ Lachlan says, clipped. ‘Please escort Mr Harker out.’

‘Heard.’

Danya falls into step with Troy, headed for the main doors.

Troy calls out, ‘See you around, Black Site.’

Jules watches them leave, his lip curling. ‘I don’t like him.’

‘Join the club,’ Lachlan sighs, bringing Jules’ focus back.

The boy takes a breath, blinking before checking Lachlan all over.

‘So, what happened?’

‘He’s not mad.’

‘OK, but something’s wrong. I can tell. You look like—’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Don’t give me that bullshit,’ Jules warns, his voice tremulous. ‘Something’s wrong, and I need you to tell me what.’

‘I’ve got it handled.’

My chambers.

Ten PM.

‘He’s punishing you?’

‘He’s not going to punish Mimi.’

‘OK, that’s good, but something’s up. I’m not stupid.’

‘He wants to meet my tech friend, and he’s upgrading the sub-levels.’

‘He wasn’t upset that Carrigan is dead?’

‘No.’

‘What was he upset about?’

‘He wants to see you,’ Lachlan says, guiding Jules down the well-worn path of malachite green and ebonised walnut, or trying to, because Jules, unsurprisingly, refuses to walk. He brings their journey to a standstill, cups Lachlan’s cheek, but thankfully, he’s smart enough not to try for a kiss. He rests his hand atop Lachlan’s and makes a sign from their secret language.

One tap, finger raised.

Help.

Asking or offering, Lachlan can only shake his head and give two taps, finger down.