Page 117 of Kingmakers, Year Four

“You seduced her,” Hedeon says.

“She wanted it just as I wanted it,” Hugo says, with no hint of shame. No, he’s smiling beneath the dark beard, reveling in the memory. “Men desire beauty, women desire power. My name, my presence, was just as powerful an aphrodisiac to her as those long, shapely legs and those full breasts were to me.”

Hedeon’s fingers twitch on the handle of the knife. He wants to cut Hugo again, though technically Hugo is doing exactly what Hedeon asked.

“She was barely eighteen,” Hedeon says.

“What a convenient number eighteen is,” Hugo sneers. “Transforming a girl into a woman in a day.”

“You took advantage of her,” Hedeon snarls.

“I wasn’t the first. Remember that she was already engaged to a man barely any younger than myself,” Hugo scoffs. “She was no virgin when we met. Dryagin bored her—at least she enjoyed fucking me.”

“Was the pregnancy accidental?”

“Accidental and unwanted for both of us,” Hugo frowns. “But Evalina showed her usual stubbornness. She waited to tell me until she thought it was too late to do anything about it. I would have cut you out of her body until the last day of the ninth month, but Evalina wouldn’t consent, and she certainly wouldn’t have kept quiet if I’d forced it. I’d have had to kill her, too.”

“Why didn’t you?” Hedeon demands.

“I should have,” Hugo says.

I don’t believe him. Hugo can pretend indifference all he wants, but the picture hanging behind his desk all these years tells another story.

“So you took her to Dubrovnik,” Hedeon prods.

Hugo nods. “I waited as long as I could. Some of her closest friends were beginning to whisper. We induced labor early. Evalina was in hysterics—she thought you might die. It would have been better for everyone if you did.”

Hedeon’s face is impassive, Luther’s coldness having no effect on him. Hedeon has never felt wanted, never felt loved.

“Once you were born, I had her sedated and I took you out of the hospital. I should have thrown you off the sea cliff. Instead, I brought you to the Grays.”

“Why?” Hedeon barks. “Why them?”

“They wanted a child. I knew Margaret would be particularly partial to a baby with Hugo blood, even if it was tainted by illegitimacy. Kenneth was amenable. Until . . .”

“Until what?” Hedeon says.

I already know the answer.

“Until Kenneth realized he had a son of his own,” Luther says. “His own flesh and blood, born from some waitress in Westminster. Margaret Gray was furious—she didn’t want to take his bastard into the house. But he wouldn’t relent, particularly since she had just pressured him into accepting the other child.”

“Silas is Kenneth’s biological son,” Hedeon says, a look of understanding coming into his face.

“Indeed. And, to all accounts, a more impressive son than mine,” Luther snorts.

“Silas is a fucking automaton,” I snap.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Hugo raises one black and silver eyebrow. “A blunt instrument, yes. But I’ve heard he enjoys what he does.”

“He certainly enjoyed torturing me,” Hedeon says, quietly.

Hugo shrugs. “Would you prefer to grow up weak and ignorant? A civilian . . . asoftware engineer?” he sneers. “You’re mafia in blood, from both sides. I placed you with a wealthy and well-connected family. I did my duty by you.”

“You put me in hell!” Hedeon cries, the firelight reflecting in his eyes.

I can see Hedeon tensing, like he plans to run at the Chancellor. Quickly, I say, “Did Evalina Markov know where you took Hedeon? Did you ever tell her?”

Luther’s eyes are drawn, irresistibly, toward the photograph of Evalina, abandoned by Hedeon on the desk. Evalina smiles up from the frame—young, triumphant, ignorant of the fate in store for her.

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