Текст книги "The poison daughter"

Автор книги: Sheila Masterson

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“How’s the wife-to-be?” Carter asks.

I shrug a shoulder. “Pretty. Feisty. Not quite what I expected, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Carter elbows me. “I never had any doubt, but I figured I’d ask because when we meet up with Bryce, his questions are sure to be more vulgar.”

I rub a hand down my face. I’m not looking forward to that. I don’t want to think about my soon-to-be wife’s perfect tits, or her lacy undergarments, or the sound she made when I bit her thigh. She is just a part of this revenge mission, and if she’s fun to take to bed, that’s merely a bonus.

I didn’t wait ten years to get distracted by a tempting woman.

People rush in and out of the businesses ahead of us, carrying bags full of produce and candles and carafes of ale. They certainly don’t seem like they’re struggling for resources. Of course, it’s the wealthier people who live near the center of town since it’s safer farther from the city gates.

When we finally step into the center circle of the maze of streets, it’s easy to spot Bryce. In the afternoon light, his copper hair is like a beacon. He leans against a flower cart, talking to the woman who runs it.

He spots us and smiles at the girl before sauntering up to greet us.

It’s not a surprise that he’s more at ease in the hectic city. While my friends are both trained huntsmen—warriors at home in the perils of the forest—Bryce has always been more invigorated by crowds, while Carter prefers to watch the action from the periphery.

“Eight ways into this Divine-damned city. Why are we even bothering to check it out from the inside? There’s no way they’re all so well guarded,” Bryce says.

We have no intention of laying siege to a city built to withstand it. If all goes well, we won’t need to.

“You tell me,” I say. “You’ve been following the patrols. What have you found?”

Bryce pauses at the window of a bakery, smiling at the shopgirl. He orders something and then turns and nods at the high stone tower to the east. “They work in groups of three. Six-hour shifts, and they typically alternate between the same three posts for the same direction. So, if they cover the east side of the city, they might start their day at Northeast Hold, shift to East Hold after two hours, and then Southeast Hold two hours later. The problem is that every fifteen minutes, a soft bell chimes and they patrol the top of the wall. So, one man stays in the tower to watch the gate, and the other two walk in opposite directions down the wall until they meet their peer from the next tower. Then they turn around and walk back. Any attack would require a minimum of three guard casualties.”

The girl from the bakery returns to the window and hands Bryce a honey cake. He takes a bite and smiles at her appreciatively as he leads us around the perimeter of the center circle.

As we walk, Carter and Bryce bicker about sweets, but I tune them out and take in the city that’s changed so much in the ten years since I’ve visited. Some of the last good memories of Holly are here during the Dark Star Festival, the month before she died.

It used to be so much easier to travel the Drained Wood. The forest was still dangerous then, but not so overrun. We used to take quarterly visits to Lunameade in much larger groups. Back then, the fort was a resting place for traveling tradesmen before the perils of the woods, and a place to regroup for anyone traveling from Lunameade after they survived the Drained. That seems like a distant fantasy now.

These days, we take only the strongest riders who are prepared to take the twenty-mile journey from Mountain Haven to Lunameade at an all-out gallop, on horses that are blessed by healers with magic from Divine Elvodeen, so that they’re in peak condition for the perilous journey.

What strikes me most about the city is that the nature is so perfectly curated. In Mountain Haven, everything is wild, natural, and overgrown. Here, the flowers are neatly contained in planters and window boxes and magically still in bloom even though the season is turning. The trees are weak, removed from the outside and replanted in squares too small for them to really grow in.

“Any thoughts on how they manage to keep the lights on?” I ask, finally turning my attention back to Carter and Bryce’s bickering.

Bryce laughs. “About that. The streetlights and wall perimeter lighting are clearly an upgrade since the fort fell. It seems our sources were right. There are a lot of rolling blackouts, but we can’t figure out how they power all of this or how they have such an elaborate network. It’s likely some blessing from Stellaria that allows them to channel light through a system of sunstones. Safe to say your city girl is going to have to adjust to the candlelight at the Haven.”

“The adjustment should be short-lived,” I grumble. “What about Rochelli?”

Bryce grins. “That part is more fun. Somehow, everyone seems to know someone who knows someone who met him. Not one has laid eyes on him.”

“Could be an alias,” I say.

Carter shrugs. “Could also be a group of people instead of just one man. Regardless, the consensus is that he’s the leader of this resistance in the city.”

I frown. Hard to believe that even behind these tall city walls, they can still find a reason to revolt. “What’s their issue?”

Bryce runs his hands through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. He winks at a woman walking by. She smiles and watches him appreciatively as we pass.

“There have been as many breaches in the past six months as there were all of last year,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “They’re rattled at the lack of protection, but it’s more than that.”

Hearing that makes my blood run cold. It’s one thing for the Drained to be worse at the fort. We are a smaller and more isolated target. But if they’re also coming at the city this hard, that’s a very bad sign.

Bryce pauses and turns, pointing up at the building next to us as if admiring the architecture. “From what I can tell, they have the ‘unblessed’ pay blood tithes on a cycle. They have a book where they keep records of who is due on a particular day.”

I frown. “Does that work?”

Carter throws an arm around my shoulders. “You tell us. Your new in-laws are the most powerful magical family in Lunameade. I’d say it must do something.”

I shake my head. The Carrenwells aren’t just powerful because of their magic. They’re powerful because they can see magic, and that has given them the advantage of always knowing what type of fight to be prepared for. It’s the reason that no one will challenge them outright. Those who have tried have died.

“The shift is that they seem to have adjusted the blood tithe requirement from once every thirty days to once every fifteen days,” Bryce says. “No idea why they⁠—”

The soft din of the square is cleaved by shouting. We turn toward the well to see what’s happening. Two city watch guards drag a man toward the Blood Well. The people in line watch with rapt interest, but the rest of the townsfolk milling about the square avert their eyes as if they’re used to this.

The man stumbles to his knees. He’s old—his body bent with age and hair white and sparse. He has to be pushing seventy.

“I don’t owe you blood. You’ve had it every month of my life since I was of age. And what do we have to show for it? A failing wall, dark nights, and an even darker future,” the man shouts.

“Sir, it’s your blood day—perhaps you’ve just forgotten,” a guard says, his voice calm and placating.

“I’m not senile! I’m just tired of the charade. The magic is failing.” The old man takes a swing at the guard.

The guard grabs his arm and twists it behind him. His partner grabs the old man’s other hand and slides his blade across the man’s palm. They drag him to the well, and the rest of the line watches in a mix of horror and resignation.

“Barbaric,” Carter mumbles as they force the old man’s hand over the well and dark blood drips down into the abyss. The guards mumble something as the blood pours down.

Finally, they let him go. He hobbles away and takes the piece of gauze offered by a young man beside the well.

The old man spits at the city guards’ feet. “Bleeding us all dry for power. You’re no better than the Drained.”

Bryce whistles, and I scowl at him.

“What?” Bryce shrugs. “He’s got a point. I don’t claim to understand the magic of the wells, but it does seem excessive for such an old man. I thought there used to be an age cap.”

“There did. But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures,” Carter says.

“And desperate measures can be exploited,” I say.

This is the place where I can drive a wedge between the Carrenwells and the magicless people of Lunameade, and my future wife holds the key to their weaknesses. All I have to do is get her to reveal them.

The ten-year anniversary of the attack on Mountain Haven is imminent. For the first time, it feels like I’ll be able to ease this driving ache for vengeance that has lived in my chest ever since the wall fell.

OceanofPDF.com

8HARLOW

The Carrenwell House ballroom is full of all the people who gawked at me the night my betrothal was announced, only now they’re being way less subtle. Their looks are a mix of judgment and curiosity.

I’m only recently out of my formal widowhood mourning period, but many of our people believe a year of mourning would be more appropriate than six months.

I stare back, challenging them to say anything.

These dinners always begin less formal because everyone arrives fashionably late. I lean against the bar and look at several couples swaying on the dance floor to the soft music played by the string quartet. The power is on tonight, so the blown-glass chandeliers shimmer in the large glass windows that look out to the front driveway.

The bartender tops off my wine, and I take a bracing sip. I cross the room and take my seat next to Kellan at the table with all of my siblings. I ignore the empty seat on the other side of me, just like I ignore that my new fiancé is late.

“So?” Kellan says, keeping his gaze casual, his smile playful as he looks around the room.

“Well, what?” I ask.

“How is your husband-to-be, Low?”

“Who?” I ask, sipping my wine.

Finally, he turns to narrow his gaze on me. “Really? That bad?”

I shrug. “He tried to work me like a common schoolgirl.”

Kellan purses his lips. “So he was nice to you?”

I scowl. There’s no way to explain without admitting where I’ve been going when I sneak out. While I’m sure that Kellan wishes his loyalty could be to me first, I don’t live under the illusion that it is. If I admitted that I was putting myself at risk this way, that I was risking people finding out about my power, that I am the Poison Vixen he’s been hunting for the past six months, he’d be forced to tell our parents. The only reason I’ve kept him off my trail this long is because of the signature vials of poison I leave behind and the fact that he doesn’t know about the glamour necklace Aidia gifted me. By changing my appearance for every job and leaving behind empty vials with traces of different poisons, I seem to have sufficiently convinced him that it’s a group of women working together.

Our parents love to say loyalty to the family comes first, but they mean loyalty to them. Kellan tries, but he’s always been torn between appeasing them and standing up for me and Aidia.

If I don’t make him choose, I’ll never be disappointed when he doesn’t pick us.

“Henry is ridiculous and condescending,” I say when I realize Kellan is not going to let it go.

“So his flaw is being a man?”

“His flaws are numerous, but his most critical is underestimating me,” I say.

Kellan grins. “You’re in a mood tonight.”

“I was born in a mood. Where’s Libby?”

He nods to the bar, where his wife is chatting with our sister, Electra.

“Should I save her from what I’m sure is another awful garden party invitation?” I ask.

“What do you even do at those things?” Kellan asks.

“Drink tea and daydream about how much more pleasant it would be to just feed myself to the Drained.”

Kellan laughs, and his whole face lights up. He’s always had an ease about him. I know he has a serious side, but while Aidia was loudly rebellious and I was quietly clever, Kellan was the magnanimous peacemaker. It’s part of the reason he is such a good captain of the city watch. He knows how to get people to compromise.

“You shouldn’t joke like that, Low,” Kellan says. “Not everyone gets your dark sense of humor.”

I sip my wine and scan the room. Henry isn’t here yet, but his parents are. Every eye in the room that’s not on me is glued to the table where they sit chatting with my parents.

Henry’s mother is doing an admirable job of pretending to be interested in whatever my mother is saying, but her gaze is too vigilant. She’s constantly sweeping the room, like she expects a pack of Drained to descend upon us.

Kellan leans closer and lowers his voice. “So what’s he really like?”

I glare at Kellan. “Are you asking as the captain of the city watch or my brother?”

“No reason I can’t be both. I am the rest of the time.”

That’s the whole problem. Kellan doesn’t know how to separate his duty from his sense of self. He will always put his job first. I miss when we were younger and he was as carefree as me and Aidia.

I shrug a shoulder. “He’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Kellan frowns. “I’m looking forward to speaking to him. I don’t like this whole thing. You’ve already done this once. You shouldn’t have to do it again, and out beyond our walls. It’s not safe out there.”

“Gaven will be with me, and I’m well trained. If all else fails, I know how to run. Besides, I might not make it quite so easy on our dear parents this time. I was enjoying my spinster life.”

His eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”

“I said I would help them so long as I get something in return,” I say. “But that is none of your concern. I can take care of myself. You have a city to protect.”

“And Poison Vixen to catch,” he sighs.

I dig my fingernails into my palms so I won’t react. If my magic kicks up, he will see it in my aura. “Oh?”

He takes a long swig of his wine. “She killed two more men last week.”

“And you’re certain it’s a woman?” I ask.

“Who else would be able to lure them away without force and kill them with ease?”

I cock my head. “Good point. You men do prefer your violence loud and flashy.”

Kellan cants his head to the side and eyes me.

I click my tongue and give him my most patronizing glare. “Honestly, Kellan, I had thought you’d not immediately take the easiest solution presented to you. Maybe she’s being put up to it by some man with his own agenda. Maybe she’s just a pawn. You cannot presume to know.”

“There’s something else. I’ve noticed a pattern.”

“Oh?” I try to sound casual, but I feel Kellan’s eyes on me.

He frowns like he’s unsure if he should say the next part. “She only kills men who have been unfaithful to their wives.”

I whistle. “Sounds like she’s got a score to settle. Safe to say she’ll have her hands full with how unfaithful the men of Lunameade are. That body count won’t be ebbing any time soon.”

Kellan opens his mouth to say more, but his gaze locks on something behind me and he frowns. “Your guest is here. I’ll leave you to it.”

I turn and find Henry poised in the arched doorway. He steps into the light, and the collective attention of all of our guests washes over him in a wave.

He pretends not to notice as he crosses the room to me. I stand, and he pauses in front of me, then bends to kiss my hand. I’m frozen the way the rest of the room is, waiting for him to do something more vicious than just kiss me. But after a warm brush of his lips over my knuckles, he draws back to standing and smiles.

Bleeding woods, he’s handsome. His dark hair is neatly styled into waves, and a dusting of dark stubble on his jaw gives him a more rugged look. His clothing is perfectly tailored, and his smile is wicked and devastating.

He nods. “Harlow.”

He’s far too comfortable.

“Good evening, my feral wolf.”

The pet name lands just how I wanted it to. The warmth leaches from his face, and he sighs.

“Don’t you look broody,” I tease.

His gaze rakes over me, and it’s like I can feel his hands on my skin again. “And you look like murder wrapped in sin.”

I intentionally wore something that my mother would consider inappropriate. The fabric is such a dark purple, it’s almost black. The slit up my right leg comes nearly to my hip and most of the strapless bodice is sheer. As long as my parents have something I want, they can make me do their bidding. But they can’t control how I do it.

I swish my dress from side to side. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”

As if suddenly aware of the eyes on us, he leans in to kiss my cheek. His lips are so warm against my skin. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until he starts to draw away.

“Want to tell me why you tried to kill me?” he whispers as he meets my eye.

“Want to tell me how you survived?” I counter.

He offers me nothing but a smug grin. His aura shimmers in a dark purple halo around him. I glance at his hand and, sure enough, he’s not wearing his magical ring.

“Then I guess we’re at a stalemate.” I scoop his glass from the table, dipping my finger into his wine as I hand it to him.

I let a little bit of Slyven Seed poison run into the glass. I probably shouldn’t do this in front of all the magical families in Lunameade, but I can’t help but take this chance to see if he was telling the truth about his protective ring. Using a different poison than I did the first time will tell me if he’s immune to one poison or all of them.

Henry eyes the wine skeptically, so I draw my finger into my mouth, trying to pull back the magic that has turned my fingertip temporarily purple and licking it clean as suggestively as possible.

He takes the cup from me, staring at my lips as he takes a long sip. I watch with rapt interest and a hint of delight.

“What?” he asks as he lowers the glass.

This is the moment of truth. He’s not wearing his ring, which I don’t believe could really protect him from a magical attack.

I stare at him, waiting for him to fall over, but he looks unfazed.

“Really? Nothing?”

Realization tears over his face. “You tried to poison me again?” His voice is low, torn between humor and disbelief.

I roll my eyes. “Relax. It was just a test.”

He looks at my hands like he knows exactly what I did. “You can poison with your⁠—”

I clap a hand over his mouth. “Keep your voice down. My magic is a well-guarded secret.”

It was stupid of me to take a risk like that. My family doesn’t know that I can poison with my hands, and I’ve suffered greatly to keep that secret. I glance at Able, who is seated on the other side of the table, praying that he didn’t hear Henry, but my oldest brother is deep in conversation with Rafe.

When I turn back, Henry clicks his tongue. “Keeping secrets from everyone, it seems. Do they know about your hobby?”

“They don’t and they’re not going to. Don’t make me get more creative in my attempts.” I bat my lashes at him. “Can you not appreciate that we have our first mutual secret? I think they call it ‘intimacy.’”

“I call it ‘mutually assured destruction,’” Henry says, holding my gaze as he knocks over his glass. The poison wine spills across the white tablecloth like a bloodstain.

“Oops, how clumsy of me,” he says as a frantic servant comes to wipe it up and bring him a new glass. “I was so distracted by her beauty.”

I scowl at him, and he grins as he takes a long swig of his fresh wine. His gaze darts behind me.

The sludgy press of an aura hits me before I see the burnt orange-brown edges of it in my periphery. Rafe.

I don’t want to listen to him taunt me about how Aidia isn’t here for my big night. I’d rather sit here all night talking to the women of the high houses about wedding planning than give Rafe the satisfaction of upsetting me.

Several couples have taken advantage of the soft string music and are spinning around the ballroom floor. No matter how much I want to leave, no matter how my head starts to throb, I will not show an ounce of disappointment to this man.

My heart slams against my ribs. My rage is hardly leashed, drowning out the soft melody of string music. Forcing my face into apathy, I take a breath and turn.

Rafe’s suit is immaculate, and his golden hair is neatly styled, but still, he looks like he’s performing. No matter how nice his clothes are, he can’t hide the hungry look in his eyes. The man is made of the kind of envy that will never be sated. How the common people in town don’t see it is beyond me.

“I wanted to offer my congratulations on behalf of North Hold, dear sister-in-law.” There’s a challenge in Rafe’s blue eyes, like he’s daring me to ask about Aidia.

“Thank you for the sincere well wishes. They mean so much to me,” I say with a saccharine smile.

“I was hoping you’d do me the honor of a dance,” Rafe says.

There’s nothing I’d like less, but he’s asked loud enough that I can’t turn him down without it causing offense.

After the briefest moment of hesitation, I place my hand in his and rise to my feet, ignoring the way his touch makes my skin crawl. He intentionally pushes his magic out, the muddy orange-brown of his aura closing in on me. My heart thunders, my mouth dries, and my breathing goes shallow. It’s not exactly a threat, but it’s a flex, and I hate that I’m rattled.

Manipulation blessings from Polm, the Divine of Malice, require the wielder to find a way to get an emotional hold on their victim. I can’t let him get his hooks in me.

He wants a reaction, and I’m trying desperately not to give it to him, but for some reason, my body is not cooperating. I don’t understand the strange panic tearing through me. Rafe’s not bold enough to use his magic on me in front of my family, but this flash of it sets my teeth on edge.

He pulls me against his body, and it takes every ounce of self-control to not knee him in the groin.

“You seem stiff. Is something wrong, Harlow?” He smiles, but it’s not warm. It’s a dare.

“Not at all,” I say.

I know how to dance, but following his lead is unnatural. He dips me, and I’m so stiff I almost slip.

“Careful. Wouldn’t want you to fall,” he chides.

My stomach twists. I’m winded. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I can hardly catch my breath as he pulls me back up to standing. It’s as if my brain and my body are divided. My body is on the dance floor, but my mind wants to go far away.

His magic swirls around us more as he spins me.

I catch Kellan’s eye over Rafe’s shoulder, and my brother looks murderous. Libby is holding his arm, not out of affection, but with the white-knuckled grip that’s meant to keep him in place.

I raise my brows at If my family doesn’t react, no one will know that Rafe is taunting me with the threat of his magic. The hair on the back of my neck rises.

Rafe’s hand slides down my back, resting just a touch too low to be appropriate. The knife-sharp strike of manipulation slices at my mind, trying to convince me to let him leave it there. I’m too practiced at blocking this magic for it to actually work.

He’s just testing me for weakness. His blessing is the kind that works best if you can’t see it coming. I let him leave his hand there. I’d rather him think he’s won than find out how he’ll act out if he hasn’t.

Still, I wish I were wearing thicker fabric. His fingers brush along the back of my bodice. He presses his fingers a little lower, running them back and forth, like he’s looking for something.

My blood goes cold. I know what he’s looking for. He wants to know if Aidia and I have the same scars.

I force my face into a soft smile. “You would do well to keep your hands still. My fiancé is watching and he’s half wild animal.”

Rafe grins and winks at Henry. I glance over my shoulder.

Henry looks wholly unbothered, leaning back in his chair. Even his aura is calm and steady, not that Rafe can see it.

“Tell me, what does his wild-man aura look like?” Rafe asks.

If he didn’t banish Aidia from family events, she’d be here to tell him. I’ll do no such thing.

My parents let him do as he pleases because he has so much support from the common people. For a while, that support kept the rebellion from gaining too much traction, but in the past year, it feels like he’s been testing my parents by keeping Aidia from attending family events and saying things that are subtle criticisms of my parents in mayoral speeches. It’s never enough that the rest of the magical high houses would sanction taking any action against him, but it is enough to be noticeable.

I’m disquieted by Rafe’s sudden lack of subtlety. Normally, he wouldn’t taunt me so publicly.

“What do you want, Rafe?” I ask, trying to sound bored and not furious.

He leans closer. “I was just wondering if your feral fiancé has been enjoying his extended stay in town.”

I cock my head to the side like Rafe is the dumbest man I’ve ever met. “He’s only been here a day. Does time pass differently in North Hold?”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You’re such a terrible liar. I hear that you and he had a private meeting two nights ago.”

My blood runs cold. He should not know about that, unless he’s the one who set me up to kill Henry.

“Tell me, is that mouth always poison, or is it safe when it’s stuffed with cock?” Rafe nods at Henry. “I have to assume the latter since he’s still breathing.”

I sink my nails into his neck and smile tightly. “Watch the way you speak to me.”

“Why? You’re just the throwaway daughter,” he whispers. “You and I would have been well matched, but your father insisted on marrying you off to that old bastard. What a shame. You could be sated in my bed every night.”

The thought sends a wave of revulsion through me. I knew that Rafe wanted to marry me. My father had insisted I was spoken for because he needed me to do his dirty work. More than once, I’ve thought about what I might have endured if things had gone the other way—what I might have saved Aidia from. I wonder if he’d be raising his hands to me, knowing that I have magic that could actually fight back.

A throat clears behind us. “I’ll ask you to keep your hands to yourself.”

I hate that Henry feels a need to save me, but I’m also relieved he’s there because I’m struggling for a response.

“Forgive me. I forget myself around beautiful Carrenwell women,” Rafe says, his voice laden with sarcasm.

He turns and retreats to his seat beside Able, but his gaze lingers on me, no doubt waiting for my reaction. I turn back to Henry.

It’s only then, in the middle of the dance floor with my fiancé and everyone else in the room staring at me, that I realize Rafe knows what my magic is. That’s a secret he should not be privy to. Unless⁠—

All the air rushes out of my lungs at once. Unless he manipulated it out of Aidia.

“Fix your face and laugh,” Henry says, startling me out of my panic.

My laugh is overloud, but it does the trick. My rigid muscles loosen. He clasps my hand and pulls me against his body to dance.

I lick my lips. “He knows you were here early. He knows my magic.”

“No one should know that I arrived early,” Henry says. “Well—no one but you.” He leads me through the first few steps of the dance, and I’m shocked that he actually knows how to dance.

“No one but you and my family know my magic,” I rasp. “Surely the guards at the gates would have noticed the arrival of a man from the woods. We get those so infrequently.”

Did Rafe set us up to go to war? I’ve long suspected that he’s Rochelli, and what better way to stir up conflict than to set me up to kill the man who would strengthen my family’s hold on power. This alliance with the Havenwoods gives my family support from all of the major magical houses, as well as an unknown outside resource—especially if there’s truth to the rumors that one of Henry’s parents has a rare blessing from Divine Asher.

As mayor, Rafe would benefit from chipping away at my father’s power—the same way he has been for months. But this would be taking that to another level. It would cause a very big conflict between us and the Havenwoods.

Henry frowns. “I was discreet when I arrived, but I’ll not share all my secrets so soon, lovely. Not when I know how fun it will be to watch you try to pry them out of me. I know how you like to see men suffer.”

His words are so alarmingly close to the truth of my mission, but I give him my most feral smile. “I suspect I’ll enjoy your suffering best.”

Henry guides me around the floor effortlessly, dipping me as the music swells. He lets out a hum of amusement. “Try not to look so stunned, Harlow. I may not be a city boy, but I am still our version of society.”

He lifts me back to my feet, and I scan the crowd. I need to tell Kellan. He was standing over by the dining room windows when the dance started, but now he’s gone.

“Who are you looking for?” Henry asks.

“Kellan.”

“The city watch brother?”

“Yes.”

Henry pulls me flush against his body as we spin. “You trust him?”

“I find it’s best to be selective with my trust, but I trust that Kellan needs to know this. It’s a matter of family security.”

Henry nods back to our table. “Wouldn’t Able be the choice for family security since he’s the oldest and has holy fire?”

I arch a brow. “Taking notes for an invasion?”

Henry barks out a startled laugh. “No, Harlow. It’s just, you have eight siblings, and I’m trying to get the political landscape down so I don’t offend anyone. As you love to point out, I’m a classless feral wolf. I’m just trying to get the lay of the land.”

Able and Kellan are the only two siblings whose powers are common knowledge. Kellan’s manipulation blessing from Polm is part of the reason he is in charge of the city watch. The men who work for him know they can either fall in line on their own or he can make them.

Able helps my father light the wall every night, so there’s no avoiding people knowing. Not to mention that holy fire kills the Drained, and since my father and brother are the only two who can wield it, it affords the Carrenwell family a measure of security in our position.

I find it almost impossible that Henry wouldn’t be aware of their blessings.