Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,49

with open sores.

The mutter of conversation and the soft flops of people seating themselves on decadently overstuffed couch cushions or chairs grudgingly gave way to the clink of crystal and a faint sloshing. Evrard appeared beside her, a glass goblet in each hand. “A distant aunt,” he said, indicating the portrait with one of the drinks before handing it over to her. “Sister of my great, great…” He stopped and thought a moment. “Great, great grandmother,” he concluded.

“I figured something like that,” she told him, nodding a brief thanks as she accepted the goblet. “She appears to have your sense of humor.”

Evrard smiled at that, but it was a hollow expression at best—proving her point, in essence. “Why are you here, Widdershins?”

“Uh, did you not notice all the blood and desperation pooling on the floor when we first—”

“I know why you came here,” he interrupted, his exasperation growing ever more evident by the syllable. “And I wasn't about to throw an injured woman out onto the street. You are, however, remarkably improved. I did not invite your entire social circle to join you. And I do believe I have exhausted even the most liberal definition of chivalrous obligation.

“So please, by all means, enjoy the brandy. Gather your belongings. And be so kind as to lead an exodus from my home.”

“Why?”

Evrard, taking a dramatic sip after his pronouncement, nearly choked. “Why?!”

“I mean, we're not going to find a lot of other safe places where we can all sit and discuss this. And I figured you'd certainly be more comfortable here. But if there's someplace you'd rather be, lead the way.”

The way he blinked at her, Shins had to wonder if he was trying to propel himself away by creating a strong enough gust. It took him a moment to stop, to fully comprehend precisely what she was implying.

“I am not a part of your little conspiracy!” he snapped at her.

Her smile was genuine, her tone sympathetic. “Of course you are, Evrard.”

Shins had battled beside the man against a blatantly inhuman foe. She'd appeared unnoticed in his home once, when he had every reason to believe she wished him as dead as he'd wished her. She had even, on one occasion, sent him crumpling to the floor in a very crowded party with a very hard kick to a very sensitive spot.

She had still never seen him as boggled and speechless as he appeared now.

“You stayed,” she said, placing her goblet carefully on the mantel. “From what I'm told, the city's been a mess for months. You have no family holdings here, no relatives. Nothing obvious to keep you. But you stayed.

“I don't know if you've just come to care for the city, or you have friends here now, or what. But for whatever reason, what happens here matters to you.”

“Even if I were to grant all this,” the aristocrat snarled, “not wanting to abandon colleagues isn't the same thing as volunteering to wage war against every last misfortune that afflicts Davillon. We have a Guard for that!”

“The Guard's as up to their necks as everyone else. You have actually left this place in the last few weeks, yes? There're more House soldiers on the street than guards.”

“That doesn't—”

“You stood against Iruoch, Evrard. Because you realized you'd gone too far in your stupid vendetta with me, and because it was the honorable thing to do. For you and your family name.”

“Still not the same—”

“It's partly our fault.”

This time, his question wasn't a challenge but genuine wonder. And genuine worry. “What are you talking about?”

“The horrible witch of a woman responsible for these troubles? Lisette Suvagne? She has powers. Allies. They're not human. They're the ones that did…” She stuck a hand over her shoulder, pointing down with her thumb. “This to me. They're here because we killed him. Their—brother or cousin or creepy uncle or whatever he was.”

“The Gloaming Court…” Evrard breathed.

Not a term she herself would have come up with, but hearing it spoken aloud, yes. From fairy tale and legend, the noble House of the worst the fae had to offer. Only a very few of the tales of Iruoch associated him with the Court, but a few was enough.

The nobleman made one last try, even if it was—transparently, almost ludicrously—for pride's sake. “And what makes you so sure you know me as well as you think you do?” he demanded. “We've spent a grand total of several hours in each other's company, in our lives. What makes you so