Page 4 of Degradation

He’s raising an army. He’s preparing for war.

Only, no one seems to know who exactly we’re fighting.

We’re meant to be secret. We’re meant to be elite. We don’t want to alert the wider world to our presence because the consequences would result in our downfall. We have power, prestige, money too, because we exist in the shadows. If we announce ourselves, all of that goes.

“Scott Miller.” He calls out, and a soldier steps forward. Marching to the front, before saluting to receive his papers.

I wait my turn. It doesn’t take long. And then I’m marching up, receiving my own orders.

As I turn to leave, I can feel it, all those eyes on me. Yeah, they can look their fill, they can stare all they want. None of them are a match for me, for us, for the Blakes.

I stalk over to where my brother is stood, and he beckons me further away. Conrad is no doubt fucking around somewhere because only Magnus was granted the honour of an invite.

He snatches the papers out of my hand, then scans the contents.

“This has to be a joke,” He mutters.

“It’s not.” I reply.

We haven’t seen each other in three months. He doesn’t even ask how I am, how the training went, not that I expected a cuddle or anything. Neither of us hold such weak notions as sentimentality.

He scans his eyes over me, that same look of derision apparent on his face. “You’re a Reaper,” he states. “That’s your role, that’s how you, me, the Blakes serve.”

“Apparently, our Chapter Lord thinks otherwise,” I say. I can hardly be a Reaper when I’ve been picked as part of Gunther’s personal guard.

He narrows his eyes, and I wonder for a second if he might just lose his shit entirely. That that cool, calculated demeanour might crack.

“We’ll speak to the Senate…”

“No,” I growl, cutting across him, like fuck I’ll let that happen. I’m not some schoolboy they can all pass around, can make decisions for. “It’s an honour. This position is an honour. I want to serve. And besides, you and Conrad are more than capable of doing all the reaping you like without me.”

He shakes his head, muttering something about how ‘that old fucker playing games again’ and I can tell he’s not convinced.

There’s a voice in my head that says this deployment might actually be a good thing. A chance for me to get away from them both, Magnus and Conrad. I can create a name for myself, can have some damned breathing space – and maybe, just maybe, that’s what Magnus fears. He’s never been able to control me the way he wants, the way he can Conrad. These orders will place me even further from his grasp. Will give me an independence he can’t fight.

Pailtyn

The maids chatter rings out down the hallway. I can catch words of it, but not the whole conversation. They sound excited. They certainly look it.

“Sally?” I half-whisper, anxious not to speak to loudly and earn more of my mother’s wrath. “What is it?”

Her face flickers with an expression I can’t read and then she glances at Rebecca beside her. “It’s nothing,” she says hurriedly.

I frown, hearing the obvious lie. They might technically be our maids, but they’re practically the same age as I am, and we’ve spent many an evening hanging out like friends rather than staff and mistress.

Rebecca gulps, nudging her shoulder, “Just tell her.”

“Tell me what?” I ask.

Sally grimaces, “We weren’t supposed to say, Mistress was very clear about it.”

I feel it, that familiar pang in my stomach that tells me some more shit is going down. Are we moving again? Is that it? I glance around the house, it’s nice enough, but it’s not a home, not our home. We were forced to leave ours, forced to downsize, when my father died, and then we’ve moved three times since. Apparently the first time was for our own protection. Antonio, my guardian stated that, as he stepped in, swooped in, and took me under his ever-watchful gaze. I know it had something to do with my uncle, I know he and Antonio were warring over who had the most say over us. I’m not sure what the reasons were for the next moves, I was simply told to shut up and pack, like a good daughter should.

I know why I’m locked away. Why my mother and I have been for years. Because my bloodline is precious, sacred even. I’m being kept nice and safe until the Brethren are ready to make a suitable marriage for me. I don’t really mind it, if anything a part of me can’t wait until I’m away from my uncle’s overbearing presence but still, the thought of marrying someone I don’t know, it’s doesn’t exactly fill me with ease either.

I let out a slow breath of air. It is what it is. It’s my destiny, my bad luck for being born a Heseltine. There’s no good fighting it. No good at all.

“Our Chapter Lord is looking for a new wife.” Sally states.