Page 24 of This Dark Descent
After that, her parents never let her come back.
Dismounting, she led Eilora back toward the stable, already calculating how long she could stay today. Her sisters had stepped up to help out around the ranch in her absence, but she didn’t want the work to fall on them. The ranch was her responsibility, and she’d been away from it too much recently. Away from them, though some guilty part of her felt relieved. She’d been dodging their questions about the race—how she’d entered, who her sponsor was, the horse’s name—since she’d returned home that first night.
The less involved they were in this, the better if it came crashing down around her.
Reid followed her, somehow managing to look like he was skulking through the shadows even in broad daylight. As always, he wore all black despite the warm afternoon, though without a waistcoat or jacket, and hissleeves were rolled up to reveal a twisting mess of leather bracelets and black ink against pale skin.
“What’s with all the tattoos?” She nodded at his arms. Reid set his gaze on the stable ahead, clearly pretending he hadn’t heard her. “What, one too many drunken nights out?”
His head whipped around. “That,” he growled, “is none of your business. Or would you like me to start asking what it’s been like bending to Rezek Kelbra? I’m sure the two of you get along splendidly.”
Mikira stilled, a cold fury bubbling up inside her. Then she shoved Eilora’s reins into his chest. “Fine. I don’t even know why I asked.”
She stomped back toward the manor, ignoring the heads of jockeys and stable hands turning in her direction. It wasn’t that she expected to be friends with these people—Reid was an ass, she rarely saw Arielle, and she’d yet to be convinced Damien wasn’t just as bad as Rezek—but was a simple conversation too much to ask?
“Stupid, temperamental—”
“You’re done early.” Damien’s voice slid over hers. She’d reached the main courtyard outside his suite without realizing it, and he was approaching from the adjoining corridor.
“There’s only so much Reid I can take,” she replied.
His lips quirked in a smile. Unlike Reid, he was dressed head to toe as a proper gentleman, the silver of his waistcoat glinting like steel in the sunlight. Or maybe that was the Lonlarra revolvers. The thought of the weapons sent a shiver down Mikira’s spine. She’d never liked guns. They were cold and impersonal, and far too deadly for how easy they were to use.
“I have a meeting now, but you’re welcome to remain,” Damien said. Mikira followed him inside, where a man with tired shadows purpling the pale skin beneath his eyes sat across from his desk, turning a bowler hat round and round by the brim.
He leapt to his feet when Damien entered, bowing. “Lord Adair, thankyou for seeing me,” he said in a thick Vynan accent, the vowels pinched at the back of his throat.
Damien sat down across from him, where a stack of correspondence awaited. His attention remained squarely on the man. “Mr. Vonner, what can I do for you?”
Mr. Vonner huddled back into his seat. “I, well, I’ve come about a loan. With my daughter—the funeral costs, they’ve taken everything my husband and I had, and the royal army’s refusing to pay. They say she’s a deserter, but I know it’s a lie. My Evie would never. And now the shop—I can’t keep up with orders without her, and I can’t afford to hire help.”
It took a moment for Mikira to understand what was happening. The lesser house lords were responsible for the day-to-day matters in Veradell, the city divided by district among them, but she’d never heard of a house member taking direct meetings with people, let alone giving out loans. Yet she watched as Damien pulled out a prewritten document from the desk and picked up a pen without even a debate.
“I’ll cover the funeral costs,” he said, writing something across the bottom of the document and folding it in half. “Take this to Tavi and Sons, and they’ll provide the funds.”
Mr. Vonner made a small choking noise, his hands tightening around the hat. “Thank you, my lord.”
Damien poured a dollop of heated wax onto the paper, then pressed his signet ring into it, marking the contract as legitimate.
“Not what you expected?” Reid’s voice made her jump. She was still standing at the top of the stairs, waiting for the scene unfolding below to make sense. If this had been Rezek, he’d have made the man beg. Then he would have ensnared the loan in so many conditions that he’d end up owing more than he borrowed, until he had nothing left to give him but the shop itself.
“Does he do this often?” she asked.
“If I say yes, will you stop looking at him like he might suddenly shoot you at any moment?”
Mikira clenched her jaw against the caustic response she wanted to spew. Mr. Vonner finished thanking Damien and strode past them with a nod, the document clutched to his chest and his head held high. It was difficult to slot this information alongside the rumors she’d heard about House Adair, and neither could she ignore what Damien had done to the guard the night they’d met. There was a brutality to him layered beneath that pristine exterior.
Reid trudged past her into his room. She heard running water and the clatter of a kettle. Damien was making notations in a leather-bound book, and Arielle was still shut up in the workroom. She felt suddenly out of place. Should she sit? No, she’d ruin the furniture with her dirt and sweat. Arielle had made it clear she didn’t want to be disturbed while working, and there was no chance she was following Reid into his room. She was half convinced it was full of skeletons and caskets.
How in the hells was she going to make it through another few weeks of working with these people if she couldn’t even make a decision as simple as where to sit?
“Lunch will be here in a moment, and then we can discuss our plan for the first race,” Damien said, closing the book he’d been working in.
Mikira hated how relieved she was that he’d spoken, but she latched on to the conversation. “You keep saying that. The plan is to win.”
“Bad plan!” Reid called from his room.
“No one asked you!”
