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Conversation over apparently.

“Does this mean I am no longer a suspect?” He couldn’t keep the slight bitterness from his tone.

“If you were still a suspect, General, I would have let you initiate your own death by black ashwood arrow today,” she replied sweetly.

His eyes snapped to her at the hint of her snarky sarcasm, but the small smile vanished almost instantly.

Of course, he had marked exits and hallways and guards and more. They had everything covered. More than covered. If they were truly moving the children every few days, he couldn’t glean how anyone would be gaining access to them. “They must have a contact on the inside that is getting them in and to them,” he finally answered. “Or maybe their contact is taking the targets to another area to be secured.”

He watched Scarlett turn this idea over in her mind. “That could be. If their contact is someone trusted by the orphans, by the guards, they would willingly go with them and believe it was for their safety, but one would think someone would connect some dots when the children stopped returning.” She had finished her food and was now leaning back against the couch cushions. Sorin reached over and took her empty food dishes from her lap, ignoring the jolt when his fingers brushed hers. “We need to figure out who their contact is,” she continued.

“Who decides where they are moved and who assigns the guards?” Sorin asked.

“The Fellowship provides the guards so the Assassin Lord would know that. Nuri used to coordinate the safe houses. I’m assuming she still does,” Scarlett answered.

“Who else is told when and where they are moving?”

“The Council and whomever else they deem needs to know, I suppose.”

“The Council?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “The Black Syndicate Council runs the Syndicate,” she answered distractedly.

“They are who you will answer to about bringing me there,” Sorin said.

“Yes.”

“Who are they?”

“The Assassin Lord, the High Healer, the Crime Lord, the High Madame, and the Merchant Governor,” she replied, her fingers playing with a seam on the couch cushion.

“So your mother used to be on this Council?” he asked.

“Yes.” She uncoiled suddenly to her feet, her teeth gritting as she stood. He didn’t miss how her arm came protectively around her middle. “I’m going to get a glass of water.”

Sorin said nothing as he watched her disappear into the kitchen, once again ending the conversation, and his thoughts drifted.

Eliné’s daughter. Who was her father? Eliné’s husband had been executed at the end of the Great War like many of the other Royals. He knew Eliné had taken other lovers since then, but who had sired a child with her? Did the man even know? Likely not. When she left, she was certainly not showing any physical signs of pregnancy. He hadn’t scented it on her either. She had to have left the moment she realized another life was growing inside her. Of course, that was assuming she had conceived Scarlett before she left.

He stood and carried the take-out dishes to the kitchen where he found her leaning against the counter, her hands braced behind her and no water glass in sight. She seemed to be breathing between her teeth.

“You are in pain,” he said, setting the dishes on the counter and coming to a stop in front of her.

“I am fine,” she said, her spine straightening.

“Quit saying that when you are clearly not fine,” Sorin replied, reaching for the hem of her top.

“What are you doing?” Her entire body tensed, and she grimaced at the movement.

“Relax, Love,” he said. “I just want to look at it.”

“That is not necessary.”

“You and I will have to disagree on that.” Sorin curled his fingers around the fabric, but she brought her hand to his, stopping any further movement.

“Please, Sorin,” she whispered. “Please just let this go.”

“You can either let me look at your injury, or I will go to the Black Syndicate and burn the Assassin Lord to ash right now,” Sorin answered. He knew his eyes flashed with flames when her eyes widened slightly.