Page 78 of The Crimson Throne
“Y’all right, sir? Saw that tussle with Lady Alyth—”
“Lady.” He spits the word. Actually spits, hacking a glob of saliva onto the stones at our feet. “She’s no more a lady than the rats who scuttle in the stables.”
My jaw clamps. “Is that so?”
He grins at me, and his hand tightens on my shoulder, but I lean into it and don’t wince. “She won’t even see it coming, that’s the best part. Won’t even see”—a hiccup—“none of it coming. She’s not as smart as she thinks she is.”
My body burns hotter. But I force the embers down to a smolder, force myself to stay present, when I want nothing more than to dissolve into a blackout and let myself eviscerate this man. “See what coming, sir?” I lower my voice, though we’re the only ones in this torchlit hall; the party’s still carrying on a few rooms away, music peeling through the stones. “I’m still not sure what I’m doing here. I feel like I’m not being utilized as I—”
Darnley laughs. Bellows a laugh. “Come on, then, Samuel. This party’s dull.”
He traipses up the stairs.
I hesitate, jaw shut so hard, it’s cramping, and follow.
Darnley’s suite is just as opulent as I expected. Gaudy in its garishness, full of silks and fine carpets and bejeweled frames on mirrors and art. A fire roars in the hearth already, and a few wine bottles sit by a stuffed chair that faces the flames.
Darnley kicks off his boots and collapses in that chair. He grabs a full bottle of wine, uncorks it, and takes a few deep swallows before he rests it in his lap and belches loudly.
I shut the door behind me and restrain my nose curl.
There’s no seat for me. Figures, with this prick.
I lean against the fireplace, the heat reminding me to counter my own internal rage. “What would you have me do, sir?” I ask. Again.
Darnley takes another drink. And that drink turns into several chugging swallows. Damn, gotta be half the bottle down his gullet at this point.
“In time,” he says and bats his hand. “You know how it is. Everything must be perfectly arranged. Preci-precisi-precisely laid out. The bitch will only give us one”—another hiccup—“shot.”
I cross my arms over my chest and dig my fingers into my forearms. I can’t tell whether he’s talking about Mary or Alyth. “So I’m just supposed to wait here? For how long?” I let my impatience show intentionally, knowing he’ll think I’m annoyed with them, not him.
“Hungry for it, eh?” His grin is all teeth. “Good. We are too. So”—he takes a drink, realizes the bottle’s empty, and tosses it aside, where it cracks on the stones—“damn hungry.” He leans forward in his chair to point at me, only he’s tipping to the left, his whole body going cockeyed. “Stay the course. You’ll get yours soon. All the pieces are in places. Place. Place.” He touches his lips like he can’t figure out why he’s saying that word over and over before he bats his hand again and drops back against the chair. “Never mind. It’s all laid out.” He yawns. “Your father saw to that.”
My body goes from hot to ice-cold.
“My father?” I suspected this. Knew it. But—
Darnley’s eyes shut, a faint smile on his lips. “Promised…” Yawn, a coarse throat clear. “When they come back…”
His body goes slack, and his snores rip through the room.
I stare at him for a beat longer, but he’s fully passed out.
My father is working with him. Not just in an effort to take Mary’s throne, and he’s working with fae.
What did Cecil tell him I’d get out of this? What does Darnley think I want? And what further role do I have to play in their scheme?
It doesn’t matter though. What Cecil wants, what Darnley wants. All that matters is whatIwant—me and Alyth.
There aren’t any servants lingering about, so with one last glare at Darnley, I lock the main door and get to work.
If he’s got a stash of fae weapons here, I’ll find ’em.
Cecil told me Mary had them, but he’s known all along it’s Darnley. Why lie? Why do any of this?
I originally thought Cecil was trying to get me killed—and he still might be. But it feels bigger than that. He had me smuggle a fae weapon in, that necklace, and he lied about who was really hoarding them. He knew I’d go after Mary for it, so…is he working with Darnley against Mary? Wanting to unseat her, put Darnley on the throne? But how would my investigating Mary work into that?
Darnley’s desk is all chaos. Blank papers, quills, invitations to parties later on. Nothing of importance.
