ARC 7-Cursed Fates-73 (Patreon)

To Marcella’s credit, I’m not the only one she bothers. Once she determines that there may be killers hiding amongst her guests, no one’s night goes undisturbed. The Guiness daughter is usually soft but with her territory having been infringed upon, all the might and privilege of a high noble is brought out of her.

It doesn’t matter who it is, wealthy nobles, privileged hunters, fellow merchants. All of them are made to step into the hall in their nightclothes while her men search the rooms one by one, securing one floor at a time. Arrogant whining and promises of retribution are ignored as she wields her authority with impunity. They can squawk as loud as they want but none of them has the audacity to go against the golden family.

I loan her Geneva for her hunt. With the assassins shifting their focus from killing me to hiding, she can no longer track them by their aggression and their anxious fear matches the dozens of startled guests. However, that is only at a distance. At close range, she assures me that she can recognize their minds. Someone’s thought emissions are apparently more distinctive than a face.

Unbelievable but it must be true, as the succubus is unable to directly lie to me. Her methods prove effective. Marcella’s guards get the opportunity to vent their frustrations and the hotel takes a little damage as the would-be assassins are caught. It takes nearly an hour, but Marcella returns to report her success. One assassin is taken into custody. The other three were killed when they tried to escape.

“Where is he?”

“Don’t worry, Lou. We are experienced in questioning saboteurs. This will all be handled by morning.”

Her confidence puts Jac at ease, my cousin flopping backward onto her bed and muttering, “Thank the saints.” Her readiness to divest herself of the problem is a little annoying, surely she can’t think it’s that easy, but I leave her be.

“We need to question your captive.”

“As I said—"

“You have capable interrogators. I’m sure they’re great but are they better than a master of the mental affinity?”

The merchant doesn’t frown, evidence of her incredible self-control, but there is disapproval in her eyes. “Interrogation through the mental affinity is a crime, Lou.”

“I’m not asking you to commit it, just to get out of the way.”

“That alone is enough to make me complicit.”

“You can’t be complicit if you’re coerced.”

“Am I being coerced?” she asks, a hint of challenge in her voice.

“If not giving you a choice makes things easier, yes.” Wanton use of the mental affinity is a disgusting thing. I personally take offense to the innocent having their freedom stripped from them by some amoral puppeteer pulling strings in their mind. This belief doesn’t extend to enemies. When someone tries to kill me, they have no right to complain about what methods I use to defend myself. I’ll happily let Geneva turn the poor bastard inside out if it lowers the chance that someone kills a member of my family by the slightest fraction.

“…I will have him turned over to you.”

What is that look? Annoyance for being dragged into a potentially problematic situation? Disapproval for my unsavory tactics? Caution having realized I won’t make for easy prey? A lot harder to wrap someone around your fingers when they can crack open your skull and read all the dirty intentions inside.

I’d never do something like that, I have standards, but I doubt she’s thinking about what I won’t do right now, only what I can.

“And of course, consider your bill paid. I wouldn’t dream of taking your gold after subjecting you to such terrible service.”

“Oh? Are the other patrons getting the same compensation.”

“Yes. The Golden Feathers has reputation to uphold.”

That’s a lot of crowns she’s tossing out the window. I don’t imagine the loss is enough to seriously impact her coin purse, let alone the Guiness family treasury, but it is substantial. From what I saw and heard, the hotel is full of guests. It’s a grand gesture, which again shows her competence. Nothing soothes the battered egos of the powerful like a grand gesture.

“I appreciate it.”

“Then I will leave you to what remains of the night. If there is anything you need, please, do not hesitate to call on me.”

“Saints’ blessed asses,” Jac swears once Marcella departs. “You know, I thought your little alliance with Junior was a good thing, a Tome finally getting one over the bastards, but I didn’t think you’d become a Grimoire.”

Don’t. Stay calm. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. “Given what you’ve gone through, I’m going to try very hard not to take offense to that. You know me so you know how hard I’ll have to try.”

She at least has the decency to wince. “…what do you expect me to think?”

“I expect you to understand that there is a difference between keeping a harem of mindfucked farmers’ daughters in my basement and interrogating someone who tried to kill me. Kill us, probably. I don’t know how judicious an assassin’s blade is.”

Her light brown eyes flick over to Talia, seeming drawing strength from the other woman’s composure. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that but…this makes me nervous. Lou, what are you thinking? I know you’re stronger than you used to be. Maybe a lot stronger. The Lou I know wouldn’t dream of causing such a mess unless you knew you were untouchable so I won’t argue whether you can do this. I want to know where it ends.”

What is she talking about? “I don’t have time for word games.”

“This isn’t a game!” Jac shouts, jumping to her feet. “I’m serious. Have you thought about what happens after? So, you complete this March and snatch fifty percent of the guilds’ resources. You’re not trying to start a war so, what, thirty? Maybe twenty-five? And this is after you openly challenge the governing lord of the city. What happens to this city’s power structure when a small group, of women no less, makes them all look like incompetents? You know as well as I do that there are rogue elements in the city that will take advantage of any weakness. This city will be plunged into chaos!

“And that’s the tip of the shit mountain. You’re a criminal. Your elementals go against the king’s law by simply existing. That’s what you need to be focusing on. Either striking a deal with the crown or getting out of the kingdom. Unless you think you can fight the king too.”

“And what if that’s exactly what I’m going to do?” I snap, thoroughly annoyed. “I’m not the one who needs to be afraid.”

Jac massages her forehead. “Alright, Lou. You’re beyond strong. You’re the strongest being in the kingdom. You, alone, can best every soldier and knight the royal family can throw at you. So, what? What’s the plan, oh mighty cousin? You slap the king around a little bit until he leaves you alone?”

“Yes, actually.” If that’s what it takes.

“This is why I’m upset, Lou. What happens after that? What about everyone else? You think your little stunt with the north might cause a war? What do you think happens if the royal knights are incapacitated or, worse, killed? The nobles will take advantage of your tantrum. Or does it not matter as long as Lou is safe and well, having the time of her life?”

“Did you find that saintly heart by the side of the road or have you been hiding it this whole time?” I scoff. Jac takes a step back as I stare her down. There it is again. That worrisome satisfaction. “You’ve always been smart, Jac. And you’re right. As long as me and mine are safe and well, having the time of our lives, I don’t give a damn. Not about this city, not about the kingdom, and certainly not about the king. I don’t care what happens after. The only end I care about is my family living to obscenely old ages and dying with smiles on our faces. If anyone gets in the way of that, they will be crushed and damn the consequences. So I suggest, dear cousin, you don’t. Get. In. The. Way.”

She flinches with each word that I bite off. That’s right. I’m not like you who needs to go galivanting across the sea in search of a forgotten legacy. All the power I need is inside me and I won’t be the only person in this kingdom that doesn’t use her power for her own ends.

“Lou.”

Talia’s melodic voice is like balm on an itchy wound the way it sweeps aside the tension between Jac and I. Her delicate fingers ease my tense shoulders with the slightest touch and she forces all of my attention onto her as she leans into me.

“We are with you,” she says and the last of my negative feelings recede. “We understand.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re our flower…”

“Yes.” Her fingers begin a simple massage. I can’t feel it, she’s far too weak for that, but her intention is comforting. “The business of our house is for our house to understand. My peers fail to grasp the concept of a flower. Most of the kingdom still mistake Kierra for a princess.” I snicker softly at the reminder. “Your cousin does not understand us, but it is not her place to. Is it not enough that she is safe and free to pursue her own dreams?”

“Mm.”

“They will be delivering the assassin soon.”

That’s right. There’s still work to do. “Jac, it’s late. If you want to continue this conversation, we can do it tomorrow.”

“I—"

“But I suggest you don’t,” I snap, brutally cutting her off. “This, all of this? It has nothing to do with you. Keep it that way.”

“…goodnight, Lou.”

“Sleep well, knowing your crazy cousin keeps the knives at bay.” A petty parting shot but that pesky satisfaction makes my lips curl up despite the childish behavior as I leave the room.

Talia takes my hand as we walk down the hall. As her fingers intertwine with mine, I realize she’s right. What I do, what I have, what I want, may not be understood by many. And it’s not their place to.

All these fools need to be concerned with is stepping aside when we pass.