Page 46 of Peculiar Engagements

“Wait,” Yves said, but Charon shook his head and glanced down at the boy. Yves grimaced as the maid left, but he didn’t call for her. Instead, he helped Oleander while Charon half-carried the boy. When they reached the door, a hoarse cry rang out from the lord’s room upstairs, and the maid descended empty-handed. She gave Charon a curt nod, smoothed down her unkempt hair, and strode into the night without a backward glance.

“Did she…” Yves’ voice trailed off into an uneasy silence.

“It was more mercy than he deserved,” Charon said. “Come. We have more work to do before the night is done.”

Nine

Yves feltunsteady on his feet as he entered the House of Onyx with Oleander, Charon, and the boy they’d found at Lord Marteau’s house. Lord Marteau had showered Yves with attention over the years. He had given Yves rings and tapestries from his family holdings, clothes, purses of gold, and scent for Yves to wear during his assignations. He’d been arrogant, yes, and a little cold to others, but he hadn’t seemed like the sort of man who would torture and murder children for the sake of earning gold.

Yves sat down on the couch outside of Laurent’s office. People were speaking around him, but he couldn’t piece together what they were saying. All he could think of was how Lord Marteau had always spoken of piracy as a fun, harmless jaunt for nobles who lived by the shoreline, as though all he’d done was buy a ship and take a pleasure cruise to Diabolos before returning home. After what Yves had heard through the door of Lord Marteau’s room, he was sure that old Theodore would have been more than happy to raid as many coastal towns as he wanted, if it were halfway lucrative.

I’ll let you use him however you like.Charon had become Nikos in that moment, the boy who’d been fashioned into a tool against his nature, pain bleeding out of him like an open wound as he crouched over Marteau. Yves had been terrified—not for Marteau, who was more of a monster than Charon claimed to be—but for Charon, who had seemed to be teetering on the edge of a precipice.

“There’s no need to leave Staria,” Laurent was saying, as Yves tried to draw his mind out of that horrible room, with Charon looking dispassionately down at the man sobbing on the bed. “We can make arrangements with the king.”

“I’m not sure,” Sabre said. “Lord Marteau was from an old family. If people hear how he was killed, it could cause unrest.”

I have others. Younger ones, if you desire them. Marteau’s voice rang in Yves’ ears.

“It would be better for me to leave regardless,” Charon said. “A trial would draw too much attention.”

“There are still people in his brothels,” Yves said. His voice sounded too harsh in his own ears, sharp and caustic, like his mother’s. “Why do we care what happened to the noble who hurt them when they’re stillin there?”

Silence fell in the office behind him, and Sabre stepped out, his expression wan. “Yves. I’ve ordered soldiers to search Marteau’s holdings.”

“And what they find won’t be reason enough for unrest?” Yves snapped. “But no, no, we have to exile Charon. That’s the answer.”

“It won’t be for long,” Sabre started to say.

“Except it will.” Yves got to his feet. “When he leaves, that’s it. He isn’t coming back. He’ll go off to Lukos, or Katoikos, and he’ll fall in love with it, and I’ll—the rest of us will still be here.”

“Why does it matter?” Yves had almost forgotten that Oleander was still in the room. They were sitting in the corner,holding their cat and staring at Yves with an unflinching gaze. “You’re getting married and running off to Kallistos, aren’t you?”

Yves fell silent. He hadn’t thought of Raul once all evening. Not when he’d sought Charon out, not when he was terrified that someone would attack them in Lord Marteau’s house, not when he had knelt next to Charon and brought him back from the edge of the encroaching darkness in his eyes.

“Well?” Oleander asked. “Aren’tyou?”

Charon stood. “Yves is right. When I leave Staria, I won’t return.” He passed Yves without looking at him. Yves watched him go, breathing hard. He hadn’t followed Charon through everything just to let him walk away like some noble exile into the wilderness. He raced up the stairs after him and burst through the open door.

“So this is it,” he said. Charon had his back to Yves as he folded clothes into a bag. “You’re leaving. You’re going to run away and pretend like this didn’t happen.”

“It happened.” Charon’s voice was too level, but it didn’t have the terrifying bluntness that Yves had heard while he’d tortured Lord Marteau. “I won’t deny that.”

“But you’ll deny this,” Yves said. “You didn’t take his eyes out until you heard what he was willing to do to me, Charon. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? And now you’re leaving because you think you’re some monster.”

“I cut out a man’s eyes tonight,” Charon said.

“Maybe he deserved it.”

“No.” Charon turned, and the pain in his eyes made Yves take a step back. “Don’t become someone who would say that, Yves. Stay here. Marry Raul. He would never hurt you.”

“Youwouldn’t hurt me,” Yves said. “You’re not as terrible as you think you are.”

“I am.” Charon met Yves’ gaze and held it, his expression hard. “I knew what I was doing.”

Yves felt like he was slipping off the edge of a cliff in the rain, unable to grasp a ledge as a yawning emptiness opened before him. “What if I don’t care?”

Charon turned away. “You should. If you marry Raul, perhaps you’ll become someone who always cares, no matter what darkness you see in others. He’ll treat you with nothing but kindness.”

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