Chương 20: Shaking the Web

It took Duke Edmund Vale three days to invite me to a meeting.

"Invite" was perhaps too generous a word. The letter possessed the particular sort of politeness nobles favored when they wished to make their superiority unmistakable. It arrived on fine parchment beneath a heavy seal, filled with flowery language, a carefully selected time and location, and just enough implied condescension to make my fingers itch for someone's throat. Naturally, I accepted. Meeting Duke Vale held little personal appeal.

I already possessed a thick folder containing dozens of reasons to dislike him, and every page had made the man sound more repulsive than the last. Still, there was value in witnessing corruption with one's own eyes. Reports could tell me what a man had done, but a conversation revealed how satisfying he might be to break. Celeste accompanied me while Adrian remained behind to oversee the casino. Adrian had wanted to accompany us, naturally.

The thought of Celeste entering a dangerous situation without him never sat well, no matter how capable he knew her to be. His devotion was endearing, though thoroughly whipped by any reasonable measure. That morning, he stood beside the carriage with his arms crossed, his posture controlled while concern sharpened every line of his expression.

"I should go," he insisted. Celeste adjusted one of her gloves.

"You should remain here and run the casino."

"The casino can survive without me for one afternoon."

"Not if Mother and I offend a duke so thoroughly that half his allies decide to cause trouble while we're gone." From inside the carriage, I offered them a pleasant smile.

"When have I ever offended anyone badly enough to cause trouble?" They both looked at me. Their silence was extremely rude. Adrian returned his attention to Celeste.

"If there is danger…"

"There will be danger," she replied gently.

"That's why I am going." His jaw tightened. Celeste stepped closer and rested one hand against his chest.

"I will be with Mother."

"I know."

"I'm not fragile."

"I know that as well."

"And if I were truly in danger, she would destroy the room before allowing anything to reach me." Leaning against the carriage window, I frowned at her.

"Don't make promises on my behalf." Celeste glanced back at me with a smile.

"Was I wrong?" Rather than dignify the question, I looked away. His expression softened by a fraction before he took Celeste's hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

"Return before evening."

"I will."

"Both of you," he added, looking toward me.

"How touching. I had been planning to throw myself into the river after tea." Celeste climbed into the carriage before Adrian could respond.

"Ignore her. She becomes dramatic whenever people care about her."

"I do not."

"You do." Adrian closed the carriage door himself.

"Try not to start a war." My smile widened. He sighed as the carriage rolled away. The Vaust carriage was no less impressive than anything owned by a duke. Black lacquered wood gleamed beneath the morning light, violet curtains covered the windows, and silver fittings decorated the cushioned interior. The crest of House Vaust adorned each door. Opening an establishment designed to separate greedy people from their money had proven an excellent path to wealth.

Nobles built their fortunes through taxes, inheritance, and theft disguised beneath paperwork. I preferred a cleaner method. Fools entered my casino and surrendered their gold willingly. Celeste sat across from me, composed and lovely in a dark violet dress embroidered with silver thread. Her hair had been arranged neatly, her posture remained perfect, and an unmistakable serenity rested upon her features.

"You look pleased." My eyes wouldn't leave her smirking face.

"I enjoy watching nobles invite you into their homes."

"Why?"

"Because they never understand what they've allowed through the door." That earned a smile from me. Duke Vale's Stonehaven residence occupied a large portion of the upper district. The sprawling mansion had been constructed from pale stone beneath a dark green roof, and every visible detail appeared tasteful, expensive, and utterly lifeless. It was the sort of home built by a man who desired beauty but distrusted anything that grew without permission. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the approach.

Marble statues watched the courtyard with blank, judgmental faces, while guards stood at the entrance in polished armor bearing Vale's crest: a black hawk poised above crossed spears. Subtlety had clearly died before reaching Westmere. The servants received us with bows that were deep but noticeably lacking in warmth. We were guided into a waiting room, offered nothing, and promptly abandoned. Then we waited… for quite some time. At first, listening through the walls provided adequate entertainment.

Servants hurried through distant corridors, guards shifted outside the doors, and a clerk whispered that the duke was delaying us deliberately. Another voice warned him not to say such things so loudly. Somewhere above us, a woman wept softly. Whether her tears came from grief, fear, or marriage remained unclear. After thirty minutes, Celeste removed a small book from her bag. An hour into our wait, she turned a page and observed; "He's attempting to insult you."

"Yes."

"Are you angry?"

"Not yet." But I was getting incredibly close. Her eyes lifted from the book.

"That's worrying."

"Anger is loud. I'm becoming quiet." Celeste closed the book.

"That's considerably worse." By the second hour, I had begun considering whether Duke Vale's skull would serve better as a paperweight or an ashtray. Perhaps it could fulfill both purposes if hollowed correctly. At last, a servant entered and bowed so deeply that I could almost hear his spine complain.

"Lady Vaust, Duke Vale will see you now."

"How fortunate for him." We followed the servant through three corridors, climbed a short staircase, and entered a formal receiving chamber. The room was large, polished, and decorated with the sort of restraint only extraordinarily wealthy men mistook for taste. Dark wooden panels covered the walls, green velvet chairs surrounded a massive fireplace, and portraits of severe-looking ancestors stared down at us. Every painted face appeared equally disappointed to be dead.

Without waiting for permission, I claimed the largest chair. Celeste settled into the seat beside me with the graceful composure of moonlight resting upon a knife. The servant looked briefly horrified by our lack of deference. My mood was incredibly sour, and I was one wrong word away from exploding. Another five minutes passed before Duke Edmund Vale finally entered. He didn't possess Lord Vane's swollen build, which surprised me slightly.

Duke Vale was tall and lean, nearing the age when a man's face began sharpening around the bones. Iron-gray hair framed his severe features, and his beard had been trimmed close. His clothing was dark, expensive, and free of excessive ornamentation. Men such as Vale enjoyed being praised for their humility while ensuring every stitch they wore cost more than a farmer's roof. His pale eyes held the cold emptiness of a frozen lake shortly before something dead rose to the surface.

A thin, narrow-faced adviser followed behind him, carrying several papers and wearing an expression that desperately needed to be removed. Vale paused when he realized that neither Celeste nor I intended to rise, prompting his adviser to clear his throat with a small, indignant sound that would soon prove fatal.

"How dare a mere countess and her lackey show such disrespect to a duke?" he snapped. I heard the words clearly. My mind simply translated them into a more direct invitation. Come kill me. My body moved before patience could construct a counterargument. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. One moment, I occupied the chair. In the next, my fist buried itself in the adviser's stomach.

I crossed the room so quickly that surprise hadn't finished forming across his face. My fingers curled tightly enough to draw blood from my palm, and the impact cracked through him with the force of thunder splitting wet timber. The adviser flew backward. The wall behind him shattered, and he crashed into the adjoining room amid an eruption of splintered wood, broken plaster, and ruined dignity. Raising one hand, I sent a sphere of violet ruin after him. The spell was small, merciful… really.

It struck before he finished falling, and his body unraveled into drifting violet ash. There was no scream, no plea, and no dramatic final expression. One moment, he had been a man. The next, he had become a correction. The receiving chamber erupted into movement as guards poured through the side doors with swords half drawn and voices raised. Celeste rose calmly from her chair while lightning gathered around her fingers.

"Gentlemen," she warned with almost maternal kindness, "I would reconsider." They did not. A pity… Celeste moved with elegance rather than rage. One raised hand sent white-blue lightning cracking across the chamber, leaping from breastplate to breastplate and sword to sword. Men convulsed as the current passed through them, and several collapsed before the first body finished striking the floor. Flames bloomed from Celeste's other hand and rolled across the remaining guards in a carefully controlled wave.

The fire was neither wild nor wasteful. It moved exactly where she commanded. Armor glowed beneath the heat, and the screaming ended quickly. The carpet caught fire. Celeste glanced down at it and frowned.

"It was in poor taste anyway." Duke Vale hadn't moved. I respected that, only slightly. Then I reached him. My hand closed around his throat, and I slammed him against the wall with enough force to buckle the stone behind him. Cracks spread outward in jagged lines, rattling the ancestral portraits and spilling dust into the air. Releasing him would've been unwise. The wall might have suffered more damage than he did. Vale's feet dangled above the floor while both hands clawed at my wrist.

His face tightened from pain and lack of air, but panic didn't immediately claim him. Pride remained stubbornly in place. How adorable… I raised my free hand before his face. Violet ruin gathered in my palm, tightening into a slow spiral that released a thin, unnatural whine. The sound was quiet enough to force attention and ominous enough to seem as though it vibrated through bone, reminding every piece of living flesh nearby that its shape could be undone. At last, Duke Vale's pale eyes widened. There it is…

"You old piece of filth." Celeste made a faint sound behind me that might have conveyed disapproval or amusement. With her, it was often difficult to tell.

"You invited me into your home, and I arrived at the appointed time. Then you left me waiting for two hours like some nervous petitioner seeking permission to breathe." His mouth opened, but my grip tightened before he could speak.

"No. You lost your speaking privileges when your adviser called Celeste my lackey." The sphere of ruin grew larger.

"Do you know who I am?" Vale's eyes flicked toward the violet ash drifting through the hole in the wall.

"It seems… you're learning." His face was obviously pale now. A door opened somewhere behind us, only to close again almost immediately. The servants possessed admirable survival instincts.

"Nobles may place me on whatever little ladder helps them sleep at night, but a countess is not all I am. I am an S-rank mercenary, and I could carve through half your army before my dress so much as wrinkles. You knew exactly what I was when you invited me here, yet arrogance convinced you to test me anyway." His face darkened as he fought for air.

"Tell me, Duke Vale, are you truly this stupid, or have you spent so long watching women fear you that you forgot some of us have teeth?" That struck where the lack of air could not. His eyes sharpened through the pain, and a smile curved across my lips.

"I've only come with one purpose." Leaning closer, I spoke her name.

"Princess Vera." His fingers dug uselessly into my wrist.

"Tell me, Duke. Are you worthy of her?" He couldn't answer. Mostly because I wouldn't allow him to speak, I already knew the truth. The sphere pulsed within my palm, bathing his face in violet light.

"No," I said softly.

"You are not." Celeste approached, the flames fading from one hand while sparks continued curling around the other.

"Mother."

"I'm having a conversation."

"You're strangling him."

"Some people listen more carefully without air." Her gaze moved toward the smoking corpses scattered across the chamber.

"Some people never listen again."

"That can also be useful." Vale produced a wet, rasping sound. I loosened my hold just enough for him to drag in a breath. After several coughs, he forced out the words, "You have made a grave mistake." A smile curved across my lips. Consequences were the final refuge of every nobleman forced to discover that a title couldn't shield him from a fist.

"I have made many mistakes. You're not interesting enough to become one of them." His eyes watered, but honest rage now burned behind them. I preferred hatred to polished manners. At least hatred admitted what it was.

"You attack me in my home," he rasped.

"You murder my men and my adviser, yet you believe your rank will protect you?"

"No. I believe your crimes will protect me." Vale went still. I watched his pupils and caught the smallest flicker. It was enough.

"Slave routes passing through Westmere," I whispered.

"Royal funds diverted into private armies. Dead wives, missing servants, coded ledgers, and rumors of a coup. How much of that would you like discussed before the king?" His breathing changed. Behind me, Celeste's expression settled into cold satisfaction.

"There you are," I murmured.

"You were never fearless. You were merely uninformed." I slammed him against the wall once more. The blow wasn't strong enough to kill him, but it would ensure he remembered the shape of my fingers around his throat whenever nightmares found him.

"Listen carefully. You will stay away from Princess Vera." His jaw clenched.

"She's a dear friend of my daughter, and she doesn't approve of your engagement." Without looking away from him, I gestured faintly toward Celeste.

"Strongly," she added in a sweet voice.

"Strongly," I agreed. Vale made the mistake of glancing toward her. The sphere of ruin moved closer to his cheek, and smoke rose from his skin as his composure fractured.

"If you approach Vera, touch her, summon her, corner her, threaten Malcolm, pressure her through her father, or send her so much as a bouquet with an insult hidden in the ribbon, I will come for you." The magic whined louder.

"When that happens, I will not come as a countess or an invited guest. There will be no carriage, formal letter, or polite expression of disappointment." My smile widened.

"I will come hungry." Silence swallowed the chamber. Even the fire dying across the carpet seemed to reconsider making noise. I released him. Duke Vale collapsed onto the floor with one hand clutching his throat. He coughed, gagged, and dragged air into his lungs with the undignified desperation of every mortal body reminded of its limitations. Stepping over one of his dead guards, I turned toward the door.

"Consider this meeting concluded." Celeste smoothed her skirt.

"What a shame. We never received our tea." The door opened before I reached it, revealing a guard with his sword half drawn and panic already widening his eyes. He stared at me, and I offered him one brief opportunity to reconsider. He chose poorly. The blade rose, but a flick of my hand sent violet ruin tearing outward from his chest. By the time the sword struck the floor, little remained of the man who had raised it beyond drifting ash. Another guard farther down the corridor shouted and charged.

Celeste answered with a weary sigh. A single crack of lightning crossed the hall, and the man collapsed onto the carpeted runner with smoke curling from his armor.

"Honestly," she remarked while stepping around him, "do these people receive no training in self-preservation?"

"Apparently not." A third guard appeared at the end of the corridor. He looked at us, noticed the bodies, and immediately pressed himself against the wall with both hands clearly visible.

"Better," I told him as we passed. He didn't breathe again until we turned the corner. The servants vanished from our path as though the mansion itself were swallowing them for protection. Only two additional guards died during our departure, and both had been given every opportunity to remain decorative. By the time we reached the front steps, my mood had improved considerably. Celeste, however, was beaming. She wasn't merely smiling. She radiated delight.

I climbed into the carriage and settled upon the cushioned seat while she followed, arranging her skirts with infuriating elegance. The door closed, and the carriage began rolling away from Vale's estate. For several breaths, Celeste remained silent. Then she clasped her hands together.

"That was outrageously domineering." Looking through the window, I answered, "It was a negotiation."

"You punched a man through a wall."

"He insulted you." Her smile widened. The mistake in my answer became obvious far too late.

"He also insulted me," I added.

"Of course."

"And he wasted my time."

"Certainly."

"His adviser also served as a useful example."

"Naturally." My eyes narrowed. Celeste leaned back against her seat, still glowing with amusement.

"It's genuinely astonishing that no one has fallen in love with you." Laughter burst from me loudly enough to startle the coachman.

"What a ridiculous thing to say."

"It's not ridiculous."

"I'm extremely violent."

"Yes."

"Volatile."

"Occasionally."

"Cruel."

"Selectively."

"I kill people for wasting my time."

"Only after they've wasted our time." I stared at her. Celeste looked entirely too pleased with herself.

"Who would want someone like me?" The edges of her smile softened, and the tenderness behind it unsettled me before I understood where the conversation had turned.

"You say that as though Adrian and I do not." My gaze shifted toward the window.

"That's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"You're my kin."

"And?"

"Your judgment is therefore compromised." Celeste laughed softly.

"Perhaps it is, but not as much as you believe." Outside the carriage, Vale's mansion receded beneath the afternoon sky, pale and wounded in our wake. I watched it disappear between the violet curtains.

"I was raised poorly," I admitted, more quietly than intended.

"Then I became something even worse." Celeste didn't respond immediately. For once, she allowed the silence to rest between us without attempting to decorate it.

"You were hurt," she eventually said.

"Then you survived, and afterward you became dangerous enough to ensure no one could ever do it again." I remained silent.

"That's not the same as being unlovable." The carriage wheels rolled steadily across the stone road while I kept my attention fixed upon the window.

"You're becoming sentimental again," I accused.

"I know."

"It's unpleasant."

"I know that as well."

"If you continue, I will jump from the carriage."

"I will follow you."

"Then I will throw you back inside." Celeste smiled.

"Adrian would be terribly upset if I returned home scuffed."

"Adrian is always upset whenever you're scuffed."

"As he should be." A sigh escaped me for the poor man, who remained unbelievably whipped and appeared perfectly content to stay that way. The most embarrassing part was that he appeared perfectly content with the condition. Adrian had embraced his devotion with the serenity of a monk discovering enlightenment. Whenever his wife wanted something, he provided it, prevented it from harming her, or killed whatever stood in her way. It was a simple philosophy. Celeste tilted her head.

"What are you thinking about?"

"That Adrian is pathetic."

"He's devoted."

"That's what I said." Her laughter filled the carriage again. Leaning back against the seat, I allowed the rhythm of the wheels to settle around me. My anger had cooled into something cleaner and sharper. Duke Vale now understood that I wasn't another noblewoman he could delay, insult, and manage. More importantly, he knew that I possessed information capable of destroying him. That knowledge would fester. Fear worked best when given time to ferment.

"Do you believe he will withdraw from the engagement?" Celeste asked.

"No." Her smile faded.

"Men like Vale don't retreat merely because someone warns them. They retreat when doing so becomes profitable or when the alternative has removed enough limbs to clarify the matter." Celeste turned toward the window.

"Then today didn't stop him."

"Doubtful."

"What did it accomplish?"

"It showed him exactly what he is facing. That may work to our advantage, or it may give him something to use against us before we understand his next move." I just simply shrugged. It's been boring for awhile now, and I was looking forward to whatever happened in the future.

"And?"

"It made him angry."

"That sounds undesirable."

"It's useful." I folded my hands neatly in my lap.

"Angry men move faster than careful ones. They make mistakes, reach for allies, threaten servants, destroy evidence, and send desperate letters. In their panic, they reveal which doors matter." Understanding shifted across Celeste's face. My clever daughter…

"He will react," she concluded.

"Yes."

"And Adrian will be watching."

"Correct." Her smile returned, colder than before.

"Then we didn't truly warn him," she said.

"We shook the web."

"Exactly." Celeste looked pleased with herself. I turned toward the window and smiled. Duke Vale believed himself powerful because he possessed titles, soldiers, wealth, and the ear of a king. He mistook cruelty for strength, treated women as pieces upon a board, reduced commoners to tools, and assumed even monsters would bow when commanded by someone of sufficient rank. He was wrong in so many directions that it was almost artistic.

I had entered his home as a countess and left it as a problem he could no longer ignore. Now all that remained was to discover which of his secrets would scream first.