David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

Madelyn tried to shrug off his words. He was just playing up stories, wild conspiracies lowborn like him loved to embrace. There was no proof to it. No truth.

“Hold your tongue,” she said. “I don’t wish to hear your exaggerations.”

“He’s just saying what we’ve been hearing,” one of her other mercenaries chimed in, and she felt furious that the man thought it necessary to defend his captain.

“Then you’ve all been hearing nonsense, no more truthful than the blue jay who brings new babies and the trolls underneath children’s beds.”

“No trolls here,” Torgar said, shooting her a wink. “Just elves and wraiths under our beds.”

She felt her blood freeze, but guilt over her husband’s death made her bite her tongue. He laughed at her glare. When they arrived at Ingram’s, she couldn’t have been more relieved. The guards opened their gates and welcomed her inside.

“This way,” one said, and Madelyn ordered Torgar to stay at the gate.

“If you say so,” he said, not seeming bothered that she’d be alone but for Ingram’s men. She might have been annoyed at his lack of concern for her safety, but she was too happy to get away from him to care. She followed the guard through the halls of the elaborate mansion, listening to him talk casually on the way.

“With things as they are, he’s been very busy, so don’t be insulted if he has to keep things short,” he said.

“I understand.”

“I heard about your husband. Frightening, really, knowing someone might break in like that. You’d like to think there’s at least a few safe places left in the city.”

“We’ve never been safe,” she said as she stepped into Ingram’s private study. “My husband learned this too late.”

Ingram turned, and he smiled a tired smile. When he bowed, she returned it with an elegant curtsey. She could tell he was impressed with her outfit, and she made sure to keep her lungs full during her curtsey to push her breasts out far as she could. Laurie had once told her she had cleavage that could kill. Shame he never figured out her hands were just as deadly.

“Welcome, Lady Madelyn,” he said, accepting her offered hand so he might kiss her fingers. “I am glad to see you have not completely lost your sense of womanhood amid your grief.”

There was a bite to the comment, so she smiled sweetly at him and asked, “Have you made any progress toward capturing the one who brought me such grief?”

Ingram’s frown came and went like the flap of bird wings, but she saw it.

“This Wraith proves elusive,” he said.

“I heard he mocked your guard when he helped the Watcher escape, all the while declaring the city his. Surely with such arrogance, you’ll capture him soon. I would be much relieved to know my husband’s killer has been given the punishment he deserves.”

“Of course,” he said, then gestured to a table, offering her a drink.

“White wine,” she said, and a lurking servant brought her a glass.

“So what brings you here?” Ingram asked as she drank. She caught him glancing down the front of her corset, and she made sure to sip even slower. The thought of him touching her was repulsive, but given the immense amount of land he owned, as well as controlling all of Angelport, there might be enough benefits for her to close her eyes and endure.

“I come because of Alyssa, of course.”

Ingram sighed.

“I take it now is when you demand her release, given how she’s a member of your Trifect.”

“Quite the opposite. I’ve come to make sure you have the courage to punish her accordingly for her crimes. Even we of the Trifect are not above the King’s Law.”

Ingram raised an eyebrow.

“Funny how your husband never shared the same opinion whenever Taras got into a scrap.”

The mention of her son’s name stabbed her heart like a dagger, and she discretely tugged the top of her corset higher.

“I am not Laurie, and I would be thankful if you did not mention either of their names. The wounds are much too deep.”

The lord bowed, and he quickly apologized.

“At times I forget to tame my tongue. Please, forgive me. As for Alyssa, things are far from simple. I have little proof of any actual crime, other than fairly damning testimony from Laryssa. Of course, the word of an elf is worthless in any court, no matter how trustworthy they pretend to be. And of course, there’s the nonsense with the commoners…”

Madelyn knew what he was talking about, and the very thought sickened her. Because the people believed Alyssa responsible for the attack on Laryssa, they hailed her as a hero, the first of their nobles and leaders to take decisive action against the elves slaughtering their kin at the forests’ edges. The situation disgusted her to no end.

“So will you hand her over to the elves?”

Ingram went to his bar, waved away the servant, and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one long shot.

“No,” he said, slamming the cup down. “I can’t.”

“Why? I can assure you, no one in the Trifect will bear you ill will, not even Alyssa’s successor…”

To her surprise, Ingram broke out into laughter.

“You? You think I’m worried about you? Look out the window, Madelyn, and see the remains of the fires those mobs set the past few nights. Nearly burned half my city to the ground, and killed seventeen of my guard. And now they’ve branded Alyssa a hero. Every one of the damn Merchant Lords is telling anyone who’ll listen, that it’s them who should be in charge, and that they’d never, ever think of surrendering Alyssa for trial and execution. I hand Alyssa over, I’ll have mobs surrounding my estate, ready to burn me alive.”

He downed a second glass.

“Gods damn it, how did this happen? You know what I had to do yesterday? I had to beg and grovel like a damn peasant to convince that ambassador of theirs I meant no ill will. And he claims he’s one of the few that doesn’t want war. Hah!”

Madelyn did her best to smile. The opening she’d hoped for was right before her, and she slid closer and poured him a third glass.

“So it’s the merchants stirring up trouble?”

Ingram shrugged.

“It seems everyone is, but they’ve been particularly unhelpful. If I make any move against them now, Angelport suffers. We live and die by their boats, and the gods help me if the elves actually put us under siege. I can’t imagine how badly the merchants would fuck us over if we had to rely on them for food and supplies, pardon my language.”

When he didn’t drink, she took the glass from him and downed it herself. It burned, and her eyes watered, but she forced herself to show no sign. She wanted him to know she could be just as tough as any man, especially when it came to what she was about to propose.

“The merchants have been a thorn in my side for as long as they’ve been one in yours,” she said. “My husband failed to deal with them properly, but I won’t. Give me the word, and I will take my army of mercenaries and storm their homes, their docks, their warehouses. Let me crush them beneath my heel like the insects they are. They’re the lowest of the lowbloods, sons of whores and sailors. They’ve played at being lords for far too long. Let me show them what fate awaits those who dare give orders to their betters.”

She put her hand on his, and she could sense the rapid increase of his breathing.

“There would be chaos for months,” he said, “trying to get all the boat captains in line, trade agreements remade…”

“The city is already in chaos, and besides, if you’re going to create something new, you must spill a little blood, and endure a little pain. That’s a lesson we women learn early.”