Page 52 of Vengeful Princess

The only woman I cared about was Thea, but sadly, she wasn’t here tonight.

I wondered what she was doing. Was she tucked up in her bed reading? Or was she in her favorite spot in the library?

A small pang of something unexpected shot through me. Did I miss her? I examined the emotion and concluded yes, I missed her.

It was odd. Cassian and Landon were the only two people I cared about. Kyril was OK. Cassian had brought him into our circle, and as much as it pained me to admit it, the Russian was a good guy.

Loyal.

Cunning.

Violent and vindictive.

All qualities I recognized Cassian needed in his life.

Maybe that was why Thea was a good fit for our little found family. She was definitely violent and vindictive, and I had a feeling that once we earned her trust, she’d be loyal.

A flash of vibrant red hair caught my attention. A girl in a black dress and sparkling face mask slipped out of an alcove and through a side door.

Her mask told me she was a guest, but the way she acted was a bit off. Not that anyone noticed. Only me. Since I was bored out of my skull, I decided to follow her.

27

Thea

My heart still pounded after the aborted hit on Lucian. In hindsight, slitting his throat on the terrace had been a terrible idea anyway, so Cassian’s arrival had been a blessing in disguise.

At least Cassian hadn’t recognized me. If he’d blown my cover, Lucian would have probably had me arrested by now.

Since Lucian was busy with his wife for a bit, I was on my way to check out his office. Only I wasn’t sure where it was.

The mansion I’d grown up in was huge, but the sheer size of Blackwood Manor made my home seem small. I wondered why any family would need a house this large. The only explanation I could come up with was that the Forsyths preferred time away from one another.

Having met Cassian’s father, it made perfect sense. If I was Lucian Forsyth’s wife, I’d appreciate a house so vast I never had to see the asshole.

The music and laughter faded as I walked down a corridor away from the main rooms. An occasional servant scurried past looking harried and overworked, laden with trays of drinks andsnacks, but they ignored me. I guessed Lucian didn’t pay them enough to worry about guests stealing the family heirlooms.

Or more likely, they assumed I was searching for a bathroom that didn’t have a long queue.

I took my time, keen to appear nonchalant, peering into any open doorways I passed. The thick carpet underfoot cushioned my footsteps, and the further I got from the ballroom, the colder the house felt.

Blackwood Manor had appeared welcoming when I first arrived. With lights blazing everywhere, the press of warm bodies, and an abundance of alcohol and hors d’oeuvres, it was easy to overlook the drafty leaded windows, dark wood paneling that harked back to the 1800s, and the rows of dusty paintings depicting ancient old men.

The manor felt more like a mausoleum than a home, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for a young Cassian having to grow up here. The house where I’d spent my childhood was hardly the most welcoming place thanks to the malign presence of my father and Torrance, but at least I’d had the attic to escape to. Not all my childhood memories were nightmares.

I reached a narrow staircase and peered up. The landing above was in semi-darkness. The skin on the back of my neck prickled in warning and I paused on the bottom step and spun around, but the corridor behind me was empty. No servants or free-roaming guests anywhere in sight.

I was probably just being paranoid.

Eager to get this stupid task over and done with so I could leave this miserable party and head back to campus, I hurried up the staircase. Dour old men glowered at me as I passed, each new painting more depressing than the last.

The house was silent as a grave up here on the first floor. No servants, guests, or anyone in sight. Richly patterned rugs, faded tapestries, and thick drapes muffled any sounds from theparty below. I passed two guest bedrooms, both of them empty, and a few more deserted rooms containing nothing but furniture draped in white dust sheets.

At the end of the corridor, I reached a room with a locked door. Making sure there was nobody around, I pulled my lock picks from my purse and set to work. It took less than a minute before the door lock disengaged and clicked open.

Inside, I turned on a desk lamp and looked around. It was a surprisingly spacious room lined with bookshelves, paintings of horses and stags on the forest green walls, and various framed photographs depicting family members, including a child who looked a lot like Cassian.

This had to be Lucian’s home office.

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