Deven and the Dragon - Eliot Grayson Page 0,29
to his mind, but left it in a state of such quiet that his thoughts were sluggish. Even the panic the thought of his hoard being disturbed usually brought on was muted.
Andrei thought that Deven knew about Fiora’s secret hoard, his true and personal treasure. How could he know? Only if someone had told him. Fiora hadn’t. Andrei obviously hadn’t — Andrei was less likely to betray Fiora’s secrets than Fiora was.
But hang on a moment. If Deven knew it was a secret, why would he be blabbing about it to Andrei over dinner? And he still trusted his servants, damn it all.
“If he’s incompetent enough as a spy to go talking about his secret knowledge, and revealing that he had a source, then are you really so worried about him? Andrei, I don’t think this is malicious. He might be trying to butter me up by establishing a common interest, but how could it be more than that? Besides,” Fiora added, “he spent all that time in the library on his first day here. That didn’t look fake.”
Andrei frowned and shook his head. “That could have been intentional as well. Even if he does like reading, his stated interests are so very specific. It makes me think he must know something about your particular interests. And that he is planning to use that information to manipulate you.”
“One of the servants could have mentioned my library quite innocently,” Fiora said. And he believed it, too. He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around anything else. “I collect books, that’s hardly a secret. Old books, rare books, any kind of books. You and I are the only ones who know about my hoard. The magic on the door wards hasn’t faded, has it?”
“My lord, that doesn’t mean anything for cert—”
“It’s certain enough,” Fiora interrupted him. “That’s good magic. Solid magic. My father cast those spells himself. Someone in the house must have gone to town to shop, stopped into a bookstore, mentioned that his master liked books…or something along those lines. It’s a meaningless bit of conversation anyone could offer. And then that stupid council asked around for anything, grasping at straws, and told Deven to pretend to be an avid bibliophile to gain my trust. Although I do have trouble believing his enthusiasm for the library was fake.”
He didn’t want to believe it, more to the point. All those oddly prurient fantasies he’d spun about Deven in his library…to think those were based on a lie would be both disheartening and humiliating.
Andrei sighed, his bony shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to believe anyone in your household could betray you, either. And yes,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall further argument, “you make a fair point. I admit I was so angry at the thought of betrayal by one of our own that I didn’t stop to think it through, but you must grant the possibility. One that I will entertain in the back of my mind without belaboring the point further, for now. But you, my lord, must be doubly on your guard with Deven. Whatever you choose to believe, I am quite sure that he’s willing to lie to gain your favor.”
Fiora felt that it had been a long time since he knew anything for sure. Was that what it meant to grow up and grow older? To slowly lose all certainty, until only the knowledge that one was an old curmudgeon remained? He ought to ask his father in his next letter home. It might make him laugh.
“All right,” he said, rather than discuss it for even an instant longer. The thought of lies and insincerity and cold, calculating greed lying behind Deven’s friendly exterior made him sick to his stomach. “I’ll be careful. Thank you.”
It was a clear dismissal, and for once Andrei heeded it. With a nod, he turned and went back downstairs. Fiora slowly dressed and followed Andrei down, not even looking up once at the stars.
Chapter Eight
Nearly two more full days passed before Deven could put his plan, such as it was, into action. He had to wait until Lord Fiora was in the tower; he had to wait until Lord Fiora was probably alone, which meant Andrei was out of the way and it wasn’t mealtime, when servants would be attending him; and he had to wait until nightfall, because he instinctively knew Lord Fiora would be even crankier in the daytime than he was at night.
The first day passed quietly, with