Page 20 of Their Lethal Pet

His brown-black eyes snap up to meet mine as I enter, a prominent wrinkle in his brow seeming to crease even more as he pulls out a gilded pocket watch to evaluate the time.

“We’re behind schedule,” he tells the room, his accent decidedly unique. “That’s unacceptable.”

The Viscount grunts behind me. “There were a lot of names to call this year. That takes time,Your Grace.” Those last two words are heavily laced with sarcasm, causing the one calledthe Graceto narrow his gaze.

“Yes, ten, apparently.” The man slides his ornate watch back into a pocket on his embroidered vest, then rests his hand over it, like he can’t quite let go of the timepiece. Odd, considering it’s already attached to one of his gold-encrusted buttons via a chain. “You significantly deviated from the script.”

“And I’m sure you can see why,” the Viscount replies, nudging me forward. “Your algorithm is inaccurate. This one is clearly not suitable.”

The well-dressed male arches a single arrogant brow. “You feel it’s your place to questionmyalgorithm?”

“I do when it’s clearly resulted in an error.” The Viscount walks around to stand beside me. “It’s fine, Greg. As the Village Viscount, I’ve made an adequate replacement. After all, I know these people far better than you do.”

Greg’s eyes narrow further.

But the Viscount isn’t done.

“As a proper thank-you, I’ll keep Ms. Everheart.Although, it’ll honestly be more of a benefit to you than to me.”

“A benefit how?” the Grace asks slowly, his tone and expression telling me that he’s not pleased by this conversation at all.

But the Viscount appears to be unaware of the growing tension in the room. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

I’m not sure who thisGregis, but his expensive appearance and stature indicate that he’s someone important. However, the Village Viscount is the highest-ranking official in our village.Maybe this guy is a leader from another village?

“Her behavior needs to be corrected in front of the villagers to demonstrate that this level of defiance is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Fear is always a good motivator, is it not?”

“Still not hearing how this is a benefit to me,” the Grace says, his thumb stroking his watch through his textured vest.

“Fear keeps the villagers in line, Greg.” The Viscount utters the words in a tone that suggests he’s irritated with the other man. “It’s something your father would deeply appreciate and see as a favor.”

“I’m not my father.”

“Oh, I’m very aware of that,” the Viscount spits back at him. “So, as your elder, I recommend?—”

“You arenotmy elder,” the Grace interjects. “Youare a Viscount.Iam a Duke. And it seems rather clear to me that you’re in great need of a lesson on what that means.” He finally lowers his hand from his vest, his shoulders pulling back into an arrogant line.

A Duke?I repeat to myself, glancing between them.What does that even mean?

“Greg—”

“DukeNightingale,” the man corrects, his cultured tone ringing with authority in the train car. “Protector Jeffries, I want you to take Offerings One, Three, andNineto their grooming appointments. They will be going to Monster City for Monsters Night.”

The Viscount opens his mouth, but the Duke holds up a hand, his severe expression one that sends cold dread through my system and I’m not even the one receiving that look.

“Protector Jordan, take Offerings Two, Four through Eight,andTen to the cargo hold. I’ll meet you there with further distribution details.” He says all of this while maintaining the Viscount’s stare. “As for you, you may leave. There will be no gift this year. No bonus rations.Nothing. Now go.”

“You can’t do that,” the Viscount snaps, his hand wrapping around my bicep as he gives me a violent shake. “Not overthis. She’s not an ideal candidate. You saw what she did out there.”

“What Isee, David, is an old man who needs to retire before he oversteps and loses everything he’s ever beengiftedin this life,” Duke Nightingale tells him. “I suggest you take your leave before I give Protector Xavier an order to remove you from the train.”

The Viscount sputters while Duke Nightingale turns toward the Protectors behind him.

“I gave two of you an order,” he says, his deep tone filled with palpable irritation. “Why are you not moving?”

“Apologies, Your Grace,” one of them says as he bows low before snapping to attention. “Offerings One, Three, and Nine, follow me.”

The one called Bartholomew steps forward, followedby a petite blonde female.The first and third candidates called by the Viscount.