“You did what?” The cold hiss of a female voice emerging from the closed door gives Valence pause. But it’s the unmistakable tones of Lord Torrent which make him stop to listen. He still feels very sore over how the man used him – none of the afternoon’s humiliation would have happened if not for the lord.

  He doesn’t deny his own part in it, but he would have never chosen to challenge the Titanbend heir to a duel without Torrent’s urging. He’d have never been defeated, would have never faced the other heir in a battle for his soul. He’d have never felt invisible chains wrap themselves around his limbs and throat.

  He’d have never been forced to confront the idea that perhaps he isn’t as special due to his birth as he believed himself to be. And he wouldn’t owe Markus Titanbend so gods-damned much for releasing him against the other heir’s own best interests.

  He’d have been able to continue blithely treating servants and slaves as he’s always been encouraged to treat them. Now, a combination of debt, fear of what Lord Markus could do to him, and an uncomfortably inconvenient sense of empathy had him even say ‘thank you’ to his chamber slave when the man brought his clean armour back to him. The slave had almost dropped dead in shock!

  Related to that, Valence really needs to find out from Lord Markus exactly what he means by ‘treat the slaves like people’ because he doesn’t want to accidentally misstep. But at the same time, the other heir surely can’t mean for him to treat them like they’re nobles – they’re not!

  And the need for him to have that discussion is something else he can lay at Torrent’s door.

  So, if he can serve the lord a poor turn without putting his House at risk, he’ll be happy to do so.

  “I had to! You saw how he challenged me in front of everyone! The little brat needs to be taught a lesson!”

  “And your last attempt at teaching him one worked so well,” the woman’s voice replies, dripping with so much mocking honey that Valence’s teeth almost hurt hearing it.

  “It’s not my fault the mongrel turned out to have teeth! Or that my own weapon was far less effective than I was expecting.” he makes a noise of disgust. “He had him on the ground, already run through. And what did he do? Offered mercy instead of slitting his throat.” Valence feels a moment of indignation – he has more honour than to kill a helpless opponent. If Torrent had wanted an executioner, he should have employed a peasant assassin.

  “Not everyone shares your… zeal for their destruction,” she points out, tone smooth as glass.

  “Unfortunately, I know that too well,” Torrent responds grimly. “In fact, I hear you’ve been cosying up to the little mongrel.”

  “Getting his measure,” she corrects coldly. “And I’ve been far more successful than you. Without me, we wouldn’t even know that his beasts are a weak point. And don’t forget it’s my watchers who gathered the information you needed for your strike. Don’t even hint that you believe me to be less dedicated than you are, Roland.”

  “Don’t use my name for Shadow’s sake!” Torrent snaps. The woman’s sigh is barely audible through the door.

  “Nobody ever comes down this corridor. Anyway, you are the one who refuses any form of magical silencing–”

  “Because I don’t want to test if those rumours about your family are correct,” Torrent’s voice interrupts snidely.

  “It’s a marvel that you wished to ally with me in the first place,” the woman’s voice is poisonous.

  “I thought that you would be useful.” Torrent’s retort is cutting.

  “And I had thought subtlety might possibly be among your talents,” she replies, each word velvet over a steel barb. “But perhaps I was too optimistic.”

  “All I’ve done is secure us some leverage. Now the little mongrel will dance to my tune if he cares for them at all.” Valence swallows as he hears the menace in Torrent’s voice. For a moment, he rethinks making trouble for Torrent – the man is known to be vicious to those who oppose him. But then Valence remembers the last time he went along with Torrent’s plans – and the consequences of his decision then.

  “If we go down this route, he will be a certain enemy,” the woman warns.

  Torrent snorts loudly.

  “He was always going to be my enemy. Only you thought he could be turned. I knew that he was lost the moment Titanbend got his claws into him. But by all means, play your games – if you can neutralise him in a different way, be my guest.”

  “And you will not doubt my alliance again if I take a different path?” The woman asks lightly, but there’s a hint of tension in her voice.

  “If you actually betrothe your niece to my son, I’ll have all the guarantees I need.”

  “I’ve told you before – my niece makes her own choices in such matters. Perhaps Kyrian’s actions in the competition will be what impresses her enough to choose him,” the woman suggests, her voice silky.

  “Or perhaps if it looks like you’re getting a little too close, I will just…delay the next convoy a little. Remind you why you joined the alliance in the first place.” Torrent’s tone is menacing once again. There’s a moment of silence.

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  “Threats, Torrent? You surprise me,” the woman says, her voice measured and almost pointedly not sarcastic.

  “Just remember – support me in wiping out Titanbend, and you’ll gain hugely. Act against me, and I’ll see you impoverished and broken.”

  “Really, Roland, there’s no need for threats. I am your ally. If you wish, I’ll prove it by ensuring the safe storage of your…leverage.”

  Torrent hums, sounding satisfied.

  “I would value your network to transport them further away – and ensure they’re untraceable. I want him tearing up the country in his search, only to come away empty-handed and forced to bow before me if he wants them back.” Valence shivers at the viciousness in the lord’s voice. Abruptly, he realises that he faced the pleasant version of Torrent in their shared cup of tila – he wonders whether they would have been exposed to this face if they had refused to cooperate with the Great Lord’s wishes.

  “I will organise it. Do you wish to know where I have directed them to be stored?”

  “Of course I do. What good is leverage if I have no idea where it is? In fact, I may have some ideas on that front myself. I’ll let you know later.”

  “Of course,” the lady echoes even as footsteps start sounding their way towards the door.

  When Torrent speaks again, his voice is closer and clearer than they had been before. Valence starts looking around for somewhere to hide – there’s no way he can make it to the end of the corridor without being caught, not even with Fleet Foot.

  “Send your messages – I want them far away by the morning. Who knows how quickly they will receive a message about it, even here in Crownseat.”

  “As you wish. I’ll notify my watchers.”

  Spotting a possible hiding place, Valence quickly slides behind a bust in a nearby alcove. He activates an enchantment on his robes which make him less noticeable – he usually uses it when he wants to go unnoticed among the peasants, but it will serve him well here.

  The lock of the door clicks and the hinges squeak. He stays still and silent behind the bust, concentrating on not being noticeable. He’s never needed to test whether the enchanter was correct about that making a difference, but being caught here would have awful consequences – for himself and his House.

  Fortunately, Lord Torrent doesn’t seem to be in the mood to investigate for eavesdroppers – his relaxed footsteps retreat down the corridor in the opposite direction from Valence. The younger man peeks out from behind the bust as the sound fades, only to quickly return to it – he saw movement and a metallic flash.

  Far daintier footsteps approach his hiding place. Valence barely even breathes, closing his eyes and focussing even more on being unnoticeable. I’m not here, he thinks. I don’t exist. There’s no one here. He didn’t want to be caught by Torrent, but being found by Torrent’s companion sounds almost as bad.

  The footsteps pause in front of the bust. Unexpectedly, she lashes out. Sweeping the bust from the pillar, the woman sends it crashing to the floor. Valence prevents his body from twitching a muscle, not even opening his eyes – if he is exposed, he will know soon enough. If he isn’t, even the slightest of movements might reveal his presence.

  “Foolish man,” she breathes, low and dangerous. “So many ways for this to unravel.” She sighs. “But perhaps I’m the greater fool, for tying my family to his.” She’s silent and still for a long moment.

  The moment hangs on a knife’s edge for what feels like a tortuous eternity for Valence. Then, with another whisper of ‘fool’ the woman resumes her steps. Valence doesn’t even dare to breathe until the sound has faded into the distance.

  Taking his first deep breath in what feels like an eternity, Valence steps out of the alcove without releasing his enchantment. He pays the shattered pieces of stone little mind – someone else will clear them up.

  It’s only when he’s two corridors away that he deactivates the enchantment – he’ll have to check it for signs of wear. But that’s for later, when he arrives back to the Fell suite. He should be going there anyway – he must get ready for the ball. So much for taking a walk to clear his head a little before launching into it. Now it’s even more tangled.

  He isn’t certain who Lord Torrent was speaking with – it’s vaguely familiar, indicating that he’s heard the person speak before, but he can’t bring a specific moment to mind.

  But it’s clear that they were discussing Lord Titanbend and his heir. And Valence owes Lord Markus a great debt – maybe this can begin to pay it back.

  *****

  Elarion’s father holds any comment back until they reach their rooms. Only when they are sure that they are out of earshot of anyone, within the private parlor that even the servants must knock to enter, does he let loose with his thoughts.

  “I can’t believe it. He Bound Heir Fell and then he…let him go? A Titanbend capable of mercy? I don’t believe it – it’s some sort of trick!” He thinks for a moment. “Maybe he didn’t release the Bond, but just ordered Fell to say he did,” he suggests thoughtfully.

  “It’s possible,” Elarion allows, his own mind racing. That Heir Fell was Bound seems indisputable – it’s almost inconceivable that someone would willingly kneel before another heir and declare that he had been defeated in the Battle of Wills if it were not true. There would have to be some incredible motivation – threat or otherwise – to have a noble heir undergo such humiliation voluntarily. And from what little Elarion knows of the Fell heir, his personality does not suit subterfuge like that.

  He looks up to see his father looking at him with an intense gaze.

  “You have spoken to Heir Titanbend several times. What is your interpretation?”

  Elarion is silent for a long moment. His father waits patiently, knowing that he is giving the matter careful thought.

  The Titanbend heir has been quiet over the last few days – clearly his lord had spoken to him about what he should and shouldn’t reveal at the dinner table. Or perhaps he has just been tired from preparing for his duel. If the dinners in the Golden Hall hadn’t been obligatory, Elarion suspects that Markus wouldn’t have been there at all. Either way, they haven’t managed to learn much more about the new addition to their ranks than they did in the first dinner. Still, that’s enough to draw a few conclusions.

  “Markus doesn’t seem to be like the other Titanbends,” he says finally. “He made it clear in our first dinner together that he didn’t approve of the sins of the fathers being visited on the sons.” He gives his own father a meaningful look. Maxence’s expression tightens. “I suspect that he didn’t know the truth of our family’s connection with his at the time, but that he’s learned it since. He’s been awkward around me at the dinner table – I conclude that he disapproves for one reason or another.” He ponders the question for a time longer. “I believe that what we saw was true. That Heir Fell was Bound, and that Heir Titanbend decided to release him.”

  Maxence nods slowly, his eyes hooded.

  “If he is not like the other Titanbends, you must learn who he is – for your own sake. There is too much water under the bridge between Nicholas and myself for us to ever be anything but lord and reluctant…servant. If I had met him when I was younger, before we Battled…but my father was too bitter at his own loss to even consider it.

  “But there is a new Heir Titanbend. He is a good deal younger than you are, but that works to your advantage. Befriend him, become an advisor. Maybe, one day, when you two meet in the Battle, he won’t even want to Bind you and his Will will be weak enough that you will escape my fate.”

  Elarion gazes at his father and sees the traces of humiliation and resentment in his face that have been there since Elarion can remember – the knowledge that despite their rank, their House answers to another. He recalls the frustrated anger that has driven his father on his return from council meetings more often than not. And he nods.

  “Yes, father.”

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