Page 26 of The Flame and the Forsaken

Rylahn’s cutlery clattered to his plate. Everyone startled. “Mariel, I regret I have unfortunate news, but I’ll ask that you receive this information as gracefully as you can manage.”

Mariel’s plastered smile froze. “And what news would that be, sir?”

His broad shoulders rolled back in a gesture Erran recognized well. His father was clearly annoyed, but it wasn’t the general kind, easily resolved. Whatever troubled him had created an unnecessary and unforgiveable distraction. “It seems your brother has been taken in by the law in the wee hours of the morning. He’s presently locked away in a regional jail north of Whitecliffe.”

Mariel shoved her hands under the table, her chest swelling. “For...” She cleared her throat. “For what was he arrested?”

“Ludicrous, really,” Hestia said with a tight, jittery laugh. “He wouldn’t be the first to falsely claim to be the Flame, but certainly the most preposterous.”

A blank stare was all Mariel could muster, but it gave Erran the push to say something. “When are we riding to free him?” he asked.

Mariel whipped her gaze his way. Confusion flared in her irises.

“Not today or anytime soon.” Rylahn snapped his fingers, and his plate was swiftly cleared. He offered a curt nod in gratitude. “I’m expected in Sandymount by midafternoon.”

“We’re not going toleavehim there?” Erran asked, stunned. He couldn’t blame his father for not wanting to parade the drunken imbecile in front of their friends and acquaintances at a party, but abandoning a family member to rot in jail was not the Rutland way. It wasn’t the way of any gentleman. “If you have business in Sandymount, then I’ll go to the jail.”

Mariel remained silent, staring through the columns and into the sea. There was almost no color left in her face.

“You will not.” When Rylahn stood, so did Hestia and Erran, but Mariel didn’t move. No one reproached her, which was good, because Erran might have lost his mind. No matter how he felt about her, there was wrong and there was right, and his father was wrong. “We cannot be seen to be relying on nepotism when there is so much attention on this Obsidian Sky gang these days. He’ll be questioned and no doubt released when they determine him incompetent of what he claims.”

“But that could take days!” Erran was astonished. “Can this business in Sandymount not wait until this crisis has passed?”

“I am afraid not.” Rylahn refastened his waistcoat with a gentle cough. “The unfortunate theft of Baroness Alden’s golden egg last night has ignited a sense of irrational fear in some of the other barons, and they’ve demanded we move the auction up. Tomorrow, it seems. I’m going to meet with Banner, the broker, to inspect the gold, which should arrive this afternoon if the weather holds.” He garbled a sigh. “I’ll be glad when this unfortunate auction business is behind us, for it’s been far more trouble than any of it is worth. If you’ll excuse me.”

A flurry of attendants followed him, his limping bootfalls echoing across the marble and then fading into the background din of the bustling keep.

Erran looked at his mother. “We’re really doing nothing?”

“You heard your father.” Hestia’s mouth puckered. He saw the truth in her eyes, that she was not aligned with her husband, but she always fell in line no matter her feelings. “This will blow over.”

Mariel seemed to be completely focused on breathing. Her mouth moved, but she didn’t speak.

“Mariel?” Erran whispered.

She looked up in a flash, forging a smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t be either.”

“You are only feeding her anxiety, Erran,” Hestia chided. “Her brother is clearly no thief or criminal, and the officials will suss that out quick enough. Now finish your meal before it grows cold.”

Mariel pushed back from the table. “If you’ll pardon me, I need to... tell my poor aunt before she hears it from someone else,” she said, fleeing before anyone could respond.

Erran dithered between following her and heeding his mother’s command for unity. “If he’s not free tomorrow,” he said, searching for the right words, “then I will free him myself, Mother.”

“I do not recommend crossing your father right now, Errandil. You know what’s at stake. Her brother placedhimselfin this situation, quite unnecessarily. Is a man like that worth causing further divide between yourself and the admiralty?”

“The two should have no intersection. Destin isfamily.”

“Alas,” she muttered.

“Mother!”

“Perhaps you’re right. If anyone must be on Mariel’s side in this, it’s her husband.” She wiped her face with a fluttery look upward. Her eyes lingered on the vibrant mural of the Golden Coast, commissioned by Erran’s ancestor, Drummond Rutland. “I’ve lost my appetite. Donothingunless I say to, Erran. I mean it. No one has a better read on your father than I, and you must trust I have the interests of thisentirefamily in mind when I advise you to calm the storm in your heart and let time and reason do what it must.”

Erran nodded to defuse the tension, but he had no intention of listening to his mother.

Mariel’s claim of visiting her aunt might have sounded reasonable, but he knew precisely where she was actually going, because it was exactly where he’d go if Sessaly was in Destin’s predicament.

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