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“Yes,” he answered. “I think there’s going to be a Conclave. Find out where and when, will you?”

“A Conclave?” Surprise riddled Bram’s words. “Uh, okay, Boss.” There was a pause. “Those Watchglass things you asked for? Done.”

“Good. Very good. That’s real fine work, Bram.”

“Sure, Mr Cy.”

The buzzy click ended the link, and Cyrus sighed, staring once again at Caelemar, but not really seeing it at all.

Well, the blackfin’s in the pearl beds now.

Chapter Twenty

“I’m not even going to ask where you were.” Lady Varelle raised her chin at Maelin. “I’m terribly disappointed you chose to embarrass me like that last night, however. It was a blessing that the Hedgecocks understood and forgave the slight.” She sniffed. “But I’ll wager that they’ll be talking about your hasty departure and complete lack of manners.”

Maelin sighed over her tea.

“And don’t think I’m going to defend you,” continued Varelle. “Such a breach of etiquette is unpardonable, Maelin. Especially in someone of your social standing.”

“Aunt...” She began.

“I’m seriously considering just picking an eligible man for you and announcing your engagement.”

Maelin’s temper rose. “That would be...unwise.” She put down her cup and saucer. “I find I must remind you that you are no blood relation to me whatsoever. You are my aunt by virtue of your marriage to my uncle. Who, I note, prefers his club to his home.” She lifted her chin. “I’m beginning to see why. You are assuming a great deal of things that are not necessarily accurate, including any rights at all you have regarding my marital status.”

Varelle’s eyebrows had risen and an ugly stain of colour on her cheeks diminished the elegance of her morning toilette. “Insulting child,” she hissed. “I could have you thrown out in five minutes.”

“I’d be back in six with the Theryn attorneys.” Maelin fought to hold her temper. “So don’t push me or threaten me, Lady Varelle. It will not work to your advantage. In fact,” a thought rushed into her head, “I might well return with those august gentlemen, and ask them to review the marriage agreement between you and my uncle. There are facets of the Theryn estate that are irrevocable. One would hope they have remained so, no matter his marital status.”

The colour drained from Varelle’s cheeks, and it was clear she was fighting for some kind of control. “Now, now,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s not squabble like this, Maelin. Your uncle wouldn’t like it.”

“He’s not here, is he? He hasn’t been here since I arrived home from Tidehold. And, I have to say, he seems quite content to live at his club.” She leaned forward. “Are there no whispers about that, Aunt Varelle? If not, I’d be most pleased to start a few...”

Her aunt delicately touched a napkin to either side of her mouth, and stood, pushing her chair away from the breakfast table. “I see we cannot reach any sort of compromise, Maelin. Therefore, perhaps it’s best we stay out of each other’s way.”

And with that, she sailed from the room, nose in the air, without a backward glance.

Maelin sighed. It had been inevitable from the start, she supposed. The minute she’d stood up to Lady Varelle, the gauntlet had been metaphorically thrown down between them.

Hellforge, she missed Silas.

Letting herself drift on that thought for the remains of her cup of tea, she finally shrugged. It was time to follow up on her discovery of the Hallion business, and make that the order of the day. With luck she might see Cyrus tonight. They’d not made any definite plans, but she wasn’t afraid to admit that she wanted to be with him, and from all he’d said and done, it was pretty safe to assume he wanted the same thing.

Scarcely had she risen from the table, than Darady peeped around the door. “I was just looking to see if you were done,” she smiled. “Look what arrived.”

She pushed the door open further, revealing a magnificent bouquet of those signature silver roses, surrounded by blue and white flowers.

“Oh, Cyrus,” she whispered, hurrying to take them. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

“There’s a card,” said Darady, her voice level.

“Oh...where? Yes, wait. There it is...” She read the words. “These remind me of the moonlight—and you. C”

Melting, Maelin buried her face in the bouquet, inhaling the soft fragrance.

“Well, I must admit Lord Drake knows his flowers.” Darady nodded. “Let’s go and find a vase. Would you like them down here?”

“No.” The word snapped out rapidly. “In my rooms, where I can enjoy them, please Darady.”