Page 17 of A Steeping of Blood (Blood and Tea #2)

The boy’s mouth opened and closed. He pulled out a tiny pocket agenda and began rummaging through it with no clear direction. Arthie wanted a moment to enjoy his discomfort, but the guards were going to spot her.

She leaned closer, keeping her voice low. “I’ll be late.”

“Right, right,” he said, flustered. “May I have your name?”

“Arthur,” she said. The less people who knew Arthie Casimir was toiling about, the better.

The boy’s brow furrowed, but when she moved to pull out her pocket watch again, he scrambled to invite her inside just as Arthie heard one of the guards notice her.

A voice rose, but she didn’t wait, she hurried through the entrance and shut the door before the butler could, giving him a tight smile in response.

“My appointment?” she asked. There was little likelihood the guards would come to the door, but Arthie didn’t want to risk it by standing here.

“Right this way,” the butler said, leading her into the house.

Willard’s foyer was lavish, but decorated in a sparse way, as if he’d suddenly been thrust into wealth and didn’t quite know what to do with it.

His wife stood in the back of the room and waved as Arthie passed, her cheeks rosy and eyes kind.

They stopped at a door with a sign that read WILLARD OTIS, INSPECTOR .

The majority of Arthie’s books that archived secrets and blackmail had been stored in a hidden room in Spindrift. They were gone now, burned to ashes with the rest of the tearoom and bloodhouse. Still, Arthie had enough tucked away in her head that it wasn’t too wretched a loss.

The butler ushered her through the door and closed it behind her, and Arthie could at last breathe.

The room was as quaint as the rest of the house, with modest furnishings and a window with laced curtains that looked as though they’d never been drawn.

The inspector was in no hurry of his own, sealing off an envelope with leisure.

At last, he looked up from his desk with a small smile.

Arthie almost glanced behind her, certain his kindness was misplaced. She pulled off her hat and shook out her hair before repositioning it again.

“What did I tell that boy about scheduling appointments when I’m at home?” he said by way of greeting. Then he frowned, sliding stray papers out of the way to reach a calendar. “That said, I don’t believe I have any other appointments today.”

“You don’t,” Arthie said simply.

Willard laughed. “Of course not. He’s new to the job and already well on his way to proving himself incapable. And who may you be, come like the reaper? Outside of that hair, of course.”

He spoke the words almost endearingly, like a doting grandfather, and Arthie wasn’t wholly sure how to react.

“I need a ship,” Arthie said, making herself comfortable in the chair across from his desk.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not the office for such acquisitions.”

Arthie nodded. “I’m in need of a particular ship. One already in use by someone else. It’s my understanding that an inspector can stop a ship from leaving port and order its crew to both unload and disembark.”

Willard opened his mouth, and Arthie had the sense she was about to receive an education on how cargo inspections functioned.

“At will,” she added.

Willard narrowed his eyes, setting down his pen and giving her his full attention. That was better.

“I should hope you’re not suggesting theft, miss…”

Arthie replied with the truth this time. “Casimir.”

His eyes flared in recognition, but she wasn’t worried. He was about to be a part of the job. Her job.

“And no, not theft,” she said. “I’ll only borrow it for a short time.”

He sat back with an uneasy laugh, chair creaking. He couldn’t decide if she was being serious; though she did nothing to suggest otherwise.

“The ship belongs to the EJC,” she added, and his graying eyebrows shot up.

“I’m having a troubling time understanding how casually you’re speaking of treason, young miss. You are aware I can have you arrested by the Horned Guard, are you not?” he asked, trying to assess her.

I’ve killed a Horned Guard , she thought.

And kissed one.

Yet when she thought of the word kiss , her mind conjured another face. More aristocratic and cocky, more apt to laugh at the law with a paintbrush in hand than enforce it. And far less likely to point a gun at her.

“I am,” Arthie replied.

And now that he’d threatened her, it was time to lay out her cards.

“But did you summon the Horned Guard when your son decided to steal money from the academy where he taught?” she asked. “Where he verbally abused several children and used that very same money to keep their parents quiet?”

Willard Otis knew, then, how to look at her. To call her a reaper wasn’t too far a stretch.

“You do not understand the trials a father must endure for his children,” Willard said.

Arthie shrugged. “Maybe I do, and that’s why I don’t have parents.”

A notch appeared between Willard’s brows. “I would like you to take this matter seriously.”

“Seriously?” Arthie repeated, her voice dropping to a deathly note.

“In that case, let’s discuss children . They are easily impressionable, gullible, guileless.

What we learn as children remains with us forever.

Every last coin out of Ettenia’s coffers couldn’t salvage the damage your son has done to those children.

So don’t talk to me about what you’ve endured to protect him when he deserves none. ”

To his credit, Willard did not appear proud.

“And I hear he’s now headmaster of the academy,” Arthie added. “He works fast.”

Willard released a careful breath, and Arthie took that as permission to present her plan. “Pull one of the ships in for inspection, give me time to use it for my needs, and then you can return it back to the EJC.”

Willard looked as if he were in pain. “I don’t know why you believe I can procure what you need.

I am an inspector, but the EJC works with the monarchy.

Their ships have always passed inspections.

Hard not to when they come with documents already signed by the crown allowing them through.

We have no reason to inspect them, and with such scrutiny, I can’t pull one in for you simply because you’re blackmailing me. ”

Arthie wasn’t surprised. The EJC didn’t only work with the monarchy, it was the monarchy. If Lady Linden could pass as the Ram, two powerful people in their own right, everything else she did was likely a walk through her gardens.

“Follow my lead, and you can. I’ll only need you to sign a few documents and cordon off the pier,” Arthie said. “I’ll handle everything else.”

“My job—”

“Won’t be at risk, unlike your son’s until this is over,” Arthie assured. “Though if I were you, I’d ask him to quit the position myself.”

But Arthie wasn’t here to meddle.

“Have we a deal?” she asked.

Willard sputtered a shaky laugh at her use of the word deal , but he nodded. Good man.