Page 91 of Wedlock
Seeing her logic, I lean forward and take Angie’s fingers away from the woman’s wrist, replacing them with my own.
“What fucking court?” I growl.
71
I sit in the bedchamber upon the bed I’d slept in when I’d first come to the castle after my marriage, and stare into space.
The absolute bombshell that had hit us earlier tonight when I’d asked who the wetnurse was, and the subsequent revelation upon Falcon’s guards searching her quarters and investigating the issue, was so appalling, so shocking, that I feel like I’m still suffering from its aftermath.
It’s only now that I’m alone that I’m able to process it.
By firing the original wetnurse, I’d sealed her fate. She would have been killed when she returned to the court, as would the nanny. And what had become of the wetnurse and nanny I’dsubsequently hired? No doubt murdered in order to have them replaced by the imposters who were poisoning the child.
‘Yin needn’t worry about loose ends. What had she said? You can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. Well, I’d certainly made more than an omelette; I’d broken enough eggs to bake a whole goddamned quiche. I murdered them all just as surely as if I’d done it with my own hands. My God! I’m as bad as Falcon, murdering all his staff routinely and getting fresh ones. It’s this world, their world, it makes you lose your humanity. It makes you become one of them.’
And as for seeing my husband again…I shake my head to try and stop myself, but I can’t help relive the feelings that had washed over me when I met his eyes. I’m drawn to him like a moth to a flame, even now. On the flight over I’d been alternating between excitement and nervousness at seeing him again, but I hadn’t anticipated also feeling the need to comfort him. He was as handsome as ever, but he didn’t have the arrogant edge I’d remembered. He was more subdued, more so than I’ve ever seen him. I have to suppose his son’s illness is the cause, although when he looked at me I had the feeling it was much more than that.
A knock on my door startles me, and I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and walk to open it.
“Eleanor.”
She sweeps into the room imperiously and spins to me, her eyes dark.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, my voice leaching sarcasm.
“Don’t play games with me, Angie,” she says quietly, “we both know you’re not practised enough to win.”
“Try me.”
“I didn’t come here to bandy words; I came to issue a warning. I know the child was switched with another.”
I still, not saying anything.
“But I also know heisa Dragonspur,” she adds, “a Dragonspur bastard.”
“Some bizarre claims, Eleanor. What makes you think this?” I try to bluff my way out of the situation. “After all, Tiger has, by your own admission, been very sick. I hardly recognised him myself.”
“I know he’s not yours, Angelina. I know you have my other grandson, my true grandson, hidden elsewhere. Had this child died you, along with Falcon’s true heir, would have been forced to return. I also believe mytruegrandson has a gift, a special gift, that you are hiding. One this seat needs.”
“I think the stress of Tiger’s illness has affected you, Eleanor,” I say gently, my heart racing. “I can’t think of any other reason why you might say something so very strange.”
“A little bird told me,” she says quietly.
I take a deep breath. Jag told me Eleanor had links to The Free Men, and that organisation had been present when Yin took Sophie’s baby. The old saying that ‘the truth will always out’ comes to mind. But as to her suggestion there’s another baby, a special baby, I’m hoping she’s just throwing around theories like spaghetti against a wall and watching to see which one sticks.
I’m too practised at not reacting to allow that to happen.
“A littlefreebird?” I ask quietly. “I wonder how the powers that be would respond if they found out that you had links to a particular organisation that was working to destroy all vampires, Eleanor?”
“Baseless accusations,” she shrugs.
“Yes,” I nod. “Baseless accusations.”
I leave my words hanging in the air between us, knowing she’ll understand my meaning. I’ll neither confirm nor deny anything. And either way, I won’t tell if she doesn’t.
She stares at me, and I blandly return her stare.
‘Checkmate, bitch.’
