Disciple of War Disciple of War (Art of the Adept #4) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,49

me of your father for a moment,” he admitted.

Selene blinked, and the pain his reply caused was plainly apparent. “That’s what I thought,” she said softly.

“Is that why you wanted me to step outside?”

She nodded sadly. “I still had worse to say and do, and I couldn’t bear you seeing me like that.” After a moment she asked, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“You’re asking the man who held a sword to a woman’s throat in front of her child?”

“That was just a reflex.”

“My reflexes have killed people before. Sometimes before I knew if it was the right thing or the wrong thing to do.”

“It was still a reflex,” said Selene. “You were being protective. Maybe it seemed villainous in retrospect, but no one who saw it would have blamed you. What I did was cold and calculating. Just like him.”

‘Him’ was her father, the sociopathic king of Terabinia. Will felt bad for his honesty then, for there was no one Selene loathed more than the man who had raised her. “You were a little scary, but you weren’t him. You caught me off-guard for a second, but there is a clear difference between you and your father.”

“Don’t fool yourself,” she argued. “After you left, I deliberately played on her fears to get what we needed.”

“Did you pretend you’d hurt her daughter?”

“Not explicitly. I did it just as I was raised. I let her create her own fears and then talked around those fears in a way that made them ten times worse. She’ll be having nightmares for years.”

Will had been on the receiving end of that technique several times with King Lognion, but never once had he doubted the man’s willingness to carry out his threats, whether they were unspoken or explicitly stated. Lognion didn’t bluff. It might not even be fair to call the man’s words threats. Lognion communicated in a brutal and efficient manner that let you know exactly what would happen to you if you displeased him. Even worse, the man seemed to have very little emotional involvement in his threats. When Selene’s father made a threat, it was a statement of fact, as plain and unemotional as the fact that the sun would rise.

“You acted as you saw him act,” said Will. “But behind it all, you still have human feelings, guilt, regret—you have a conscience. That’s the difference.”

Selene chewed her lip in a manner that was entirely unsuitable for a princess. Will found the expression of self-doubt rather appealing considering his wife’s otherwise unshakeable confidence at most times. After a moment, she shook her head in silent agreement.

He could tell she still had reservations, but they had finally reached the address listed in the late-Lewis Arberry’s notebook. For a home in the dockside district, it was surprisingly well kept, although small. A smattering of people moved back and forth along the road, most of them watching the small group of watchmen more than Will or Selene. Something was about to happen, and everyone in the vicinity could feel it.

Since Selene was still reflecting on herself, Will glanced at the watchmen, then ordered, “Same as before. Two in back, two to enter ahead of us, and one to stay at the door.” He knocked and waited until someone opened the door.

A woman in her middling years opened the door. Her face was slightly chubby, and her cheeks were ruddy, offsetting the pale grey that had stolen the color from her hair. As her eyes locked onto Will, the blood slowly drained from her face, leaving her looking lifeless and drained. It was several seconds before she noticed the guards beside him. Without thinking, she started to close the door, but Will blocked it with one hand. “I wouldn’t,” he warned. “Step back and clear the way. Is anyone else in the house?”

“No! There’s no one home!” she yelled, her voice rising to an exceptional volume. Rather than move, she continued to block the door.

“She’s warning someone else,” said one of the watchmen as he pushed her aside and the two of them entered.

At the same time, a man’s voice spoke from the next room. “Why are you yelling? Of course I’m home.” His statement was followed by a yelp as the watchmen found and restrained him. Will and Selene entered then, and the man grew still when he saw Will. “Shit.”

“You know why I’m here,” said Will.

“Don’t say anything, Ben!” cried the woman.

“Benjamin Doster, I presume,” stated Will. “I met a man named Lewis Arberry