or any night, none of you will see sunrise. If my House falls, you will all fall with it. And you’ll die horrible deaths. Long. Painful. Degrading.”
“Maybe it would be worth it,” Gavin said, so low he was barely audible.
“Maybe so.” Elban sounded pleased. He threw his cigarette into the fire and stood up. With two graceful, menacing steps—no movement wasted, his eyes never leaving his son—he stood in front of Gavin. Who was on his feet, now, too; awkward by comparison, but standing between Elly and his father. The two men were of a height. Gavin had Elban’s jaw, and his mouth. That mouth, Judah thought illogically: the thin lips, the curl at the corner that could be amused or endearing or, like Elban’s, cruel. Theron had it, too. It was in every portrait, on every carved sarcophagus in the crypt, all the way back to the beginning of Elban’s line. Everyone always spoke of Gavin as resembling his mother but now Judah saw that with the passage of a certain number and quality of years, he would look very like the man standing in front of him.
“Come on, then.” The taunt in Elban’s voice was so light. It would be easy to miss. “Take that stupid dagger you carry and put it in my throat. Patricide is a noble enough death.”
Judah could practically feel the knife in Gavin’s hand, his desire was so strong.
“But when the deed is done,” Elban said, “take the knife from my throat and put it in your own, so you won’t have to watch what happens to these two. Because you will watch; that’s part of my orders for you.” The curl in the corner of his mouth deepened. “Unless you kill them, too. But after what I saw on the hunt, I very much doubt you can do that.”
Gavin didn’t move. Judah didn’t even think Elly was breathing.
Elban snorted and sat down. “As I thought. Suicide would have the same result, Eleanor of Tiernan. After your suffering ends, that of those you leave behind will be long and luxurious. If I remain alive to enjoy it, it will last all the longer. As I said before, nothing belongs to you. Not even your life. You live at my indulgence and you will die that way. Please me, and I’ll make your death quick.”
“You know, Lord Elban,” Elly said, “it is possible to rule without being an utter monster.”
Elban blinked. Then he threw back his head and laughed. “Who’s your model for that, Tiernan? Your father? He once burned a mill full of children to punish their parents for refusing to pay his taxes. It’s a good story. Ask him to tell it to you, if you ever see him again.” The faint taunt was back in his voice. “Perhaps we should invite him to the wedding. Your father, and all of your brothers.”
Elly didn’t answer. Her hands were carefully folded in her lap but her clenched knuckles were white. She spoke often of her mother, who’d died when she was fifteen, but rarely of her father. Never of her brothers.
The Lord of the City leaned back in his chair and eyed her speculatively, his pale eyes showing more interest than they had. “I’ll give you this, heir. Your Tiernan has courage. Of course, she’s not yours anymore. But Porterfield will suit you well enough. Just let her put a collar around your neck, and be a good dog, and she probably won’t be too hard on you.”
Gavin’s jaw was clenched so hard that Judah’s teeth hurt, but he still said nothing. “What about Theron?” Elly said.
“He lives. For now.”
“‘For now’ wasn’t the deal,” Gavin said.
Elban smiled. It was a sleepy, slow smile, full of confidence and loathing. “Oh, it won’t be me that kills him. A few years from now, when you love the city a little more and your childhood a little less, when you find yourself not sleeping so well, knowing there’s another living claimant to the throne—you’ll find yourself making plans, heir. Or, more likely, letting Porterfield make them for you. About your brother, and about that.” He nodded toward Judah. The curl in his lip spoke of disgust, now.
Elly took Judah’s hand, her grip fierce and protective. “She’s not part of this,” she said, just as Gavin said, “She’s fine the way she is.”
“She looks like a foreign whore,” Elban said. “Not that I have any objection to foreign whores, as such, but I generally don’t let them