Page 103 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)
Devin
I watched as the scene played out before me.
As my brothers and their men fought what must have been only a handful of men.
Did they think their bombs would be enough?
Did they think that enough of the Brethren would be against my family and that they’d what, rise up, take up arms?
As if they’ve not been taught the meaning of obedience from the moment they drew breath.
I saw Magnus grappling with one man after another, I saw Conrad, gutting someone with one of the ceremonial blades, and while a voice told me that I should be down there, that I should be alongside them, protecting the great Blake name, I knew Paitlyn was in more danger than either of them were.
It’s been hours since the chaos. Hours of silence. Of waiting.
And now my brother has invited us here, to no doubt celebrate his ascension and his victory.
I glance around, noting how the décor has changed. How it feels even more oppressive now. Perhaps that’s my brother’s doing, or perhaps it’s because I can no longer deny what we are, what all three of us are.
My father was so concerned that we might turn out to be like her, like our mother, and while there are times when I know her madness is in me, I also know that the darkness, the demons, all of that is his doing, not hers.
Conrad greets us in the entrance hall. He leads us through, barely glancing at Paitlyn.
The rest of the family are sat at the grand dining table. Silver cutlery gleams under those crystal chandeliers.
Liliana looks at me, then quickly looks away. She’s out of her white satin now. She’s wearing a turquoise dress that twists around her neck like a knot, hiding the brand my brother burnt into her skin. She’s sat to the right of Magnus, who sits at the very head.
Conrad takes his place beside his own wife, and we quickly sit opposite them.
Magnus and I engage in a silent staring contest, our eyes locked in a battle of wills that neither of us want to break. So much for a truce then.
Across the room, Titus’s wife and daughter are in giant gilded cages. Trapped like songbirds, if you will. They watch us, watch me in particular, with wide, fearful eyes.
The sound of footsteps echoes through the austere room as Antonio enters with the Grand Master by his side. The Grand Master extends his hand to Magnus, a cold smile playing on his lips as he declares, “It’s all done.”
Magnus nods back, acting the part of Chapter Lord as if he’d been one his entire life.
“Everything is in place for the cull.” The Grand Master declares in a voice low enough to make me believe we are not all meant to hear those words.
Antonio leans in, murmuring something in the Grand Master’s ear.
His gaze flickers across the room to where Paitlyn is sat before settling on me.
The Grand Master’s eyes narrow, his expression is almost certainly a veiled threat.
But he doesn’t say anything further, he just turns to leave, his footsteps echoing through the room as he exits.
Antonio takes a set at the other end, and I see how his eyes flicker towards those cages, towards Grace in particular.
There’s a softness there that seems out of place for this room of cold calculation.
Maybe I’ve found his weakness, maybe this woman is it.
My lips pull into a smirk. He notices it immediately but doesn’t react beyond pouring out some wine.
“What did he mean by a cull?” Paitlyn says, her voice barely above a whisper.
Magnus leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Our dear Grand Master has given me a list of names. Brethren identified as Esau.”
“And?” Conrad says, like it’s not fucking obvious.
“The Grand Master has ordered that everyone associated with these people, all their families, all of them will be eliminated.”
A gasp echoes beside me. Paitlyn’s face pales, her expression one of shock and fear. She leans into me, her voice barely a whisper, “Devin, my mother and uncle, they’re almost certainly Esau.”
Before I can speak, Antonio does.
“It doesn’t include you, Paitlyn. You’ve been pardoned of everything.”
Magnus shakes his head, clearly looking pissed about that, “Your wife is excused.” He says, half-spitting the word ‘wife’ as if he wants to replace it with the word ‘whore’. “As are you. Looks like you’ve done something right for the first time in your entire life.”
I stiffen, as that old resentment flares up. But Paitlyn’s hand squeezes mine, her touch grounding me, her voice a soft plea, “Let it go.”
I grit my teeth, glaring back, daring my brother to say that word again.
“Come now,” Conrad says quickly. “Is this not meant to be a celebration? Magnus is Chapter Lord. Our family is the most powerful family in the country.”
Magnus inclines his head, like he doesn’t need the commendations, like all of this was a walk in the park.
The servants begin to file in, their silver platters gleaming under the chandelier light. They set down dishes laden with food, and it’s clear it’s a feast fit for a king.
Magnus raises his glass, “a celebration feast.” he declares, “The Blakes have risen higher than any can hope to reach now.”
I frown, hearing the words, not understanding the meaning. What the fuck does that mean?
Beside me, Paitlyn lightly pats at the tablecloth, feeling for where her cutlery is.
I can tell she’s starving. The ritual was hours ago, and we haven’t had anything since breakfast and she barely managed a few mouthfuls then.
I take her hand, guiding it to the fork, then pierce a piece of potato small enough for her to manage.
Magnus watches, clearly amused and I’m itching to tell him where to fucking stick it.
Only, he turns his gaze, looking from Paitlyn to Conrad’s wife, sizing her up the way a vulture does a rotting corpse.
“How is Brynn’s pregnancy progressing?” he asks.
Conrad preens like this is his greatest achievement in life. “It’s doing well. The last scan was good.”
Magnus grunts, reaching out for his wife’s hand. His grip is firm, possessive.
“Good.” He replies. “We need a strong heir, a Blake boy. There is a new order rising. The Brethren is changing. The Esau tried to fuck everything, but now, we should be grateful to them. Our Grand Master has decided that no new Chapter Lords will be chosen moving forward. They too will run through bloodlines.”
The entire room falls silent as the weight of his words settles over us.
Fuck me. That’s what he meant, what he’s been after this entire time. How long has he known? How long has Magnus been aware of this change?
I glance at Paitlyn and her expression is far less concerned than I imagined it to be.
“Good.” She whispers.
“So, what?” Conrad says, looking around the room. “You’re the last? What will happen when you’re old and dead then, who will be in charge then?”
Fuck me, the man is dense. I shake my head, catching Magnus’s wife’s eye and I know she’s not stupid. I know she understands. I’m curious as to why Magnus hasn’t bred her. Surely, he’d prefer an heir from his own direct line?
“Not the last.” Antonio says, as if he’s grown used to my brother’s lack of understanding. “Your child, if it is born a boy, will be the next Chapter Lord.”
Conrad blinks, staring between Antonio and Magnus as if this is some sort of joke. “My child?” He repeats. “My son?”
“If you have one.” I murmur. There’s every possibility that baby in his wife’s belly is a girl. What will Magnus do then? And what will he say if my wife is the one to produce a boy first?
Magnus looks down that long table at me and I can tell he has the same thoughts. I reach over, squeezing my wife’s hand, taunting my brother that little bit more.
He glares back, taking a deep sip of his impeccable wine.
It’s a good thing we’re moving to America.
A good thing we will be far from his reach.
If my wife gets pregnant, I’ll need to watch her far more than I already do.
She might be related to the Grand Master but I know even that won’t be enough.
I’ll need to ensure Magnus doesn’t choose to fix the situation to his advantage.
As soon as it’s possible to do so, as soon as the first plates are cleared, I’m up, and I’m pulling Paitlyn to her feet.
“Leaving so soon, brother?” Magnus says, as his wife side-eyes him.
“We have things to do. Things to pack.” I reply, “You might not have heard, brother,” I say in the same tone he uses, “…but we’re leaving these shores.”
He sinks back in his chair. “I heard.” He says. “And I wish you well over there. Both you and your wife.” It’s the first time he’s said it without disdain. He glances at her, running his eyes over her and then his own wife squeezes his hand like she’s had some sort of influence in this.
“Goodbye Magnus.” I say as I reach him. “I know you’ll make an excellent Chapter Lord, you were born to play such a part.”
He grins at me then, that sinister one he gets when he’s about to do something truly horrific.
“Oh I will be.” He replies. “We are Blakes were destined for it. And you’ll be back before you know it.
Brynn’s baby will be born in the Cathedral, for everyone to witness.
We’ll need to put on a full family show for it. ”
Of course we will. He wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity to wave his metaphorical dick around.
I nod back, leading Paitlyn out, feeling as the air physically changes, feeling as I can actually breathe again.