Page 40 of Tales of a Deadly Devotion (Tales of a Monstrous Heart, #2)
What would the Reavers be doing gathering by a fighting pit?
The stories my mother told me were of the Reavers being freedom fighters who worked the streets and villages.
How they kept fey and mortals safe though an underground movement.
So at odds with the version before me now as we moved further through archways until we passed through thick velvet curtains to an office at the back.
Greeted by bookcases and an assortment of shelves holding what appeared to be shipment scrolls. The smell of tobacco hit me first. Eyes moving to where smoke clouded. Coming from the rouge-painted lips of a beautiful woman sitting behind a large, ornate dark wood desk.
Her warm brown skin was only marred by creases around her golden eyes as if she smiled often.
Dark hair was arranged perfectly on top of her head, her red nails tapped on the leather desktop where it was littered with papers and silver coin.
The excessive frills of her expensive silk shirt making me certain Thean would be jealous of the monstrosity.
‘You are as clever as I remember, Blackthorn,’ came her hoarse voice as smoke seeped from her lips. She took another drag of her thin cigar, leaving a red stain at its base. ‘I knew you wouldn’t waste time on those old bastards still calling themselves lords.’
‘I told you one a day,’ Sigrid warned, as she pried the thin cigar from the woman’s delicate hand and placed it in the ashtray, which appeared to be made of a bejewelled human skull. Those gems throwing multi-coloured shapes across the floor between us in the lamplight.
‘With a Blackthorn on my doorstep it appears I’ll be dead long before the smoke takes me, my love.’ The woman behind the desk grinned, her attention moving to me. Or more my unease at her choice of human remains as decoration.
‘Don’t worry, my dear, he deserved it.’ She tapped her red nail against the skull’s socket.
Emrys’s face remained impassive, his hands sliding casually into his pockets at my side. ‘Lady Ramsey.’
‘We both know that title means little anymore, Emrys.’ She waved her ring-covered fingers dismissively. ‘However, it is good to see such a handsome face. Even in such dismal circumstances.’
‘Troublesome times don’t seem to have affected your business,’ Gideon offered dryly, eyes moving over the shelves filled with scrolls and small money pouches left unguarded on the sideboard. As if anyone would be foolish enough to rob this woman.
‘Not yet,’ the Lady countered, her attention remaining on me. Running from my damp skirts to cloak-covered shoulders. Where my hair had slipped free to curl around the sharp point of my ear.
‘Montagor was swifter than I anticipated,’ Sigrid said as she moved to stand behind the Lady, her face grim and tense as if anticipating an attack. ‘It appears madness is guiding him.’
‘To remove the Council suggests he’s set on following the Mage King’s legacy. Hunting a way to free the darkness from beneath,’ Gideon answered.
‘I was about to reach out to Lord Farrow for you, Emrys. Since the bastard has eyes all over the southern lands.’ The Lady nodded as she took a sip from a glass of port on her desk, leaning back in her extravagant chair.
‘However, he became … reluctant to correspond once he heard Gideon Swift was back in the fold.’
Her golden gaze seemed to gleam with amusement.
‘A piece of advice, dearest Gideon. Next time you decide to insert yourself into someone’s marriage , maybe make certain we don’t actually need their help afterwards?’
‘The bastard and his wife invited me . It’s not my fault they both became quite obsessed,’ Gideon replied, making the lady’s grin widen. ‘Besides, if you’re lecturing anyone on dangerous entanglements, Priscilla , surely it’s my brother you should be speaking to.’
Gideon’s eyes drifted over me with mild annoyance to make his point clear. Sigrid gave a short, amused snort as Lady Ramsey’s prying eyes found mine once more.
‘ I’m not married,’ I snapped. Cheeks burning, unable to think of anything else to say to fill the awkward, tense air.
‘I doubt it would stop him if you were,’ Gideon added wryly, as Lady Ramsey’s laugh filled the small office. Only heightening my embarrassment. Emrys didn’t even blink to rebuke the remark.
‘Always the scoundrel, Master Swift,’ the Lady chuckled.
‘You have many ships in the harbour headed to the eastern isles.’ Emrys’s words cut through the Lady’s mirth. Her eyes flashed with surprise before he continued. ‘Your traders like to talk.’
That’s what he was doing at the markets. Seeking information. Listening.
‘Maybe they need to be reminded of the consequences for a loose tongue,’ Sigrid offered, folding her arms tightly over her leather-covered chest.
‘There have been sightings of large fey groups moving this way. However, the inns and lodges appear relatively empty. The surrounding villages and healing houses too,’ Emrys continued his ruthless line of questioning.
There were stories in the build-up to the uprising of Reavers moving fey on ships. To the ancient islands surrounding Elysior. To places only the fey knew, that only their magic could access. Why my parents had chosen an island in the north.
The rebellion branded Reavers cowards. Nothing but street urchins, lower fey. Running when they should fight.
‘Maybe they vanished into the mist like in the stories.’ Lady Ramsey traced a finger around her glass, eyes calculating.
No. She was moving them to the eastern isles. Just as the Reavers always had. No matter the consequences from the rebellion.
‘Maybe they did.’ Emrys nodded in agreement, a strange truce as he perused the map laid across the Lady’s desk with ease. ‘Your Reavers have already been spotted at the south borders.’
‘I thought you’d be here to discuss the massacre on the western road,’ Sigrid interjected.
Emrys rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Unfortunately, I’m too familiar with a creature like Montagor, and his motives. The western road was a distraction, to spur the Council to gather. He’s up to something else.’
Lady Ramsey gave a small unamused laugh. ‘Blackthorn really did train all his weapons to be as sharp as himself.’
She cleared a pile of coins off of the map before her with one movement of her hand. Revealing a patch of Elysior marked with red blots of ink.
‘Montagor’s men have begun mining. Only broke ground a few days ago,’ Lady Ramsey finished, all humour vanishing at the same time my heart began to climb up my throat. Breath slipping uneasily through my lips.
Mining. The mines and the fey indentured to work in them had been the reason behind Elysior’s wealth for the upper classes for centuries.
Only where there were slaving mines, there were always Reavers destroying them.
How most of the skirmishes had begun during the Mage King’s purging of the east. Mines like the one my grandmother was murdered in.
The one my father destroyed. Mines that were supposed to be outlawed – should have been for over a decade.
‘With who?’ I demanded, forgetting myself.
‘Prisoners. Rebellion sympathisers. Suspected Reavers,’ Sigrid answered tersely, her gaze pinned on my face as if the flash of pain across my features made her curious. ‘Montagor has gathered himself quite a little collection under the Council’s watch.’
‘The mines were destroyed.’ A darkness lingered in Emrys’s words. The bite of his magic seeming to hum in the air. As if he’d seen to the task personally.
‘It seems Montagor wishes to return things to the good old days .’ The Lady shuddered, using the desk to get to her feet, hands planted on its top as if she needed it for support.
‘I’ll never understand fascists’ obsession with the past. If only we could send all the righteous fuckers back there and be done with it. ’
‘He’s looking for something beneath.’ The words escaped my lips before I could fully understand the weight of them. Why Kysillians had been captured and forced into mines. We could sense the darkness of Verr magic. They’d tried to use us to find it.
‘We’ve sabotaged as many of the new mines as we can, but it won’t take long before his work begins again,’ Sigrid spoke, words clipped with her disdain.
‘The rebellion won’t take kindly to your meddling in fey affairs,’ Gideon interrupted, his expression stern as if we’d tangled ourselves in a trap. ‘She’ll see it as a challenge.’
Of course. Speaking to the Reavers was working against the rebellion. The rebellion who didn’t forgive and especially didn’t forget.
‘Fuck her rebellion,’ Lady Ramsey answered, picking up a bejewelled cane from where it leant against her chair and moving from her desk with some difficulty. ‘These beings are mine to protect and I can deal with the Countess’s games.’
Her attention drifted back to Emrys. ‘Strange how the moment the Council crumbles, you come to our doorstep, Emrys.’
‘The Reavers have always had the support of my house.’ His words didn’t surprise me – I knew Emrys had been helping fey. However, assisting the Reavers was a level of treason against the Council’s false peace efforts I was glad of.
‘Yet they’re untrusting of you. Your dealings with the Council haven’t put you in good stead,’ Sigrid added, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
‘The Council were a necessary evil. They’ve finally paid their due,’ Gideon added, arms folded tightly across his chest in Emrys’s defence.
They’d paid it being consumed by that relic. Destroyed by their own greed.
‘A Kysillian in your ranks might sway their opinion,’ Lady Ramsey offered, eyes running over my features, amused by something.
‘Miss Woodrow isn’t a pawn to be moved about your board, Priscilla,’ Gideon warned, startling me with his defence. Only the Lady didn’t seem to care for his tone.