Defy the Sun (Beware the Night #2) - Jessika Fleck Page 0,42

It didn’t come out quite right. I’d thought it would give me a chance to stroke his ego, grovel a bit. But I’m worried it came out ungrateful or cocky.

As if to pull my suspense out further, he motions to the two house staff standing by the door to begin clearing the table, tops off his drink, and then stands, moving our conversation to the sitting area before the hearth.

Of course, I follow.

Once seated, his full brandy perched next to him on the arm of the chair, he finally speaks. “Mr. Denali, I originally chose you as heir because your family is one of the oldest and most loyal on the island. If I couldn’t choose one of my own, I always knew your family line would come next.” He raises his eyebrows. “As we know, what’s left of my family are no longer Raevalds. They’re unfit, ungrateful, and unwelcome here on the island, much less in any sort of leadership position.” I nod so he knows I’m in agreement, because he’s talking about Veda and the Sindaco. “My estranged son is cunning, very charismatic. I assume his daughter gained those same traits and you fell victim to it.” I take in a deep breath I hope he thinks is disgrace but is really my nerves over how I should be searching for Veda and not sitting here pretending to sip brandy from fine crystal. “You’ve got a lot to prove. That day at the Coliseum, how you were made to help with the execution of Miss Adeline, it was merely punishment for a series of bad choices on your part. Had I done any more, the whole island might have revolted.” He adjusts his sash, which has gone slightly askew. “There’s no denying it, the people adore you.” Raevald makes eye contact. “And adoration is not easily earned. It’s a gift.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Should it happen again…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence because his icy stare is enough. “I understand, my lord. It won’t happen again. I assure you.”

“Good … Good…” Raevald pauses, eyes hardening like he’s hoping to read my mind, really figure me out. “You know, actions speak louder than—”

A pounding at the door interrupts him.

One of his guards opens it, allowing in two more soldiers with another beaten and bloodied Imperi officer between them. “I’m sorry, sir,” one of the guards pleads, “he insisted it was urgent.” The injured soldier composes himself and stands at attention, his eyes passing over me and then to Raevald. The two guards also stand at attention but stay just behind the officer near the door.

“Well, at ease. What is it? What’s happened that you’ve been allowed to interrupt my dinner with your heir?” Raevald says, dismissive and annoyed.

“My lord, I apologize, but we’ve had an Imperi officer defect.” To this news, Raevald stands. “She was accompanied by a Basso prisoner.”

The High Regent’s nostrils instantly flare, his face suddenly glowing red. “How did this happen?” Raevald’s gravelly voice steadily rises.

The soldier, an officer and fairly decorated, fidgets with his sash. “Sir?”

“Well,” Raevald’s eyes narrow in on the poor guy, “if you were close enough to see her defect, you were close enough to stop her.”

“I…” The injured officer shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, readjusts the bloody rag he’s holding to the side of his head. “She threw an explosive at me. I’m sorry, sir, but I was knocked unconscious.”

“Then how can you be sure?” Again, Raevald’s a master of zero emotion. Is he angry? Concerned? Indifferent? There’s absolutely no way to tell.

“Before the explosion, she and the prisoner, a thief boy, exchanged words, then ran from me. It was obvious they were working together.”

“Indeed.”

“And … there’s more.”

Raevald sighs, folds his hands casually before his waist. “Of course there is.”

“The prisoner … I have reason to believe he wasn’t really a boy. The voice … From what I heard, I’m certain the prisoner was actually a girl.”

At girl my insides jump, hope pumps new life into my heart, and, with a jolt, the memory of that Basso prisoner I saw with the Imperi officer outside the palace wall hits me.

To this news Raevald strides toward the soldier. “What’s your name, officer?”

“Givanni, my lord.”

“Officer Givanni, why would someone go to such lengths to hide their identity?”

“I suppose … if they’re wanted…”

“Yes, yes … See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, sir,” Givanni murmurs.

Raevald’s eyes dart toward his guard, his jaw flexes like he is grinding his teeth. “The cellar—check the girl’s