Page 98 of Their Master

Smith and Malcolm laughed, and Gideon sputtered, “That’s not what I meant.”

Smith suspected that wasexactlywhat he meant. Ever since Gideon had learned he was an earl he’d been obsessed with status.

“I wasn’t the best student at the orphanage,” Edward said, “but the Byzantine Empire fell long ago, didn’t it?”

“Yes, very long ago—the middle of the fifteenth century. John the VI was eventually forced to step down, living out his last years as a monk in The Peloponnese, in the Despotate of Morea.”

“And where is that, exactly?” Malcolm asked.

“It’s the area now within the Kingdom of Greece, where his son wasDespot Manuel Kantakouzenwho—”

Gideon moaned as if he were in physical pain. “Please,stop.Is there going to be much more of this? Because Ihatedhistory in school. All those dead people with unpronounceable names and places I’ve never heard of.”

Smith laughed. “While my ancestor was no longer an emperor, my family managed to prosper, until they were the wealthiest and most influential force in Mystras—which had once been the capital of the Morea.”

“That’s a walled city, is it not?” Edward asked.

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”

“Nora’s got me reading mythology lately,” Edward admitted, his cheeks darkening slightly at his admission.

“Yes, it is a walled city,” Smith said. “Or at least it was. Now it’s a walled ruin. In the 1830s the city suffered a dreadful fire and was afterward abandoned.”

“A natural fire, or arson?” Malcolm asked, the unburned side of his face grim.

“Oh, it was very much intentional.” Even now, Smith could sometimes hear the screams of his sisters, his youngest brother, and his mother. “Every member of the Nicolaides family died in that fire. Except me, and I should have died that day, too.”

And he would have, had he not disobeyed his mother.

“So, how is this connected to Moira’s father?” Gideon asked.

“It was Blois who was there that day—he and seven other men, all armed. It was a joint military action—France and Great Britain. He’d been sent by French officials to ensure there would be no rebellion in the countryside. It didn’t take many soldiers to terrorize a village filled with women, children, and elders.”

He poured himself another drink and then held up the bottle, but the others shook their head.

Smith continued. “The independence movement had been raging across the area for over a decade, but the allied powers had managed to broker a fragile peace. They wanted to ensure there were no other rebels to threaten the new Kingdom of Greece that was to be established—complete with a foreign king chosen at the Convention of London. The Nicolaides name was well respected and people had approached my father several times to take sides, but he had remained neutral. His neutrality didn’t matter to Blois and his group, who looked upon their mission as an opportunity to enrich their own coffers.”

Smith took a drink and hissed at the pleasurable burn.

“You needn’t tell us about this if you don’t want,” Malcolm said in a quiet voice.

“Wait—I want to know,” Gideon blurted. “What?” he demanded when the other two men glared at him.

Smith smiled. Judging by his small audience’s reactions, it was a feral smile. Well, he was feeling feral. He was also ready to speak the truth for the first time in over thirty-five years.

“I am still alive because I was obsessed with collecting bird eggs. I’d heard of a rare bird nest and was desperate to be the first capture a prize for myself. Unbeknownst to my parents, I sneaked out of the schoolroom, where my tutor had me studying. The journey to the nest was a bit precarious and quite far away.

“I was distracted by many things along the way—just as nine-year-old boys tend to be. It wasn’t until I saw smoke—a great deal of it, coming from the direction of Mystras that I began to run like I’d never run before.”

Smith moistened his lips, which were suddenly dry. “The townspeople were milling outside the walls, but there was nobody from my family. People tried to stop me from entering, but I easily broke through. Once I was inside, I saw that the fire burned strongest in the area where my family lived—in the biggest house. There were screams coming from the large courtyard where our family spent so much time. I climbed up on a stump and looked over the wall…”

Smith closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what he would see when he looked into that courtyard.

There were men—eight of them, although he did not know their exact number until later—and what they were doing at that moment was branded on his mind’s eye.

Two had large sacks that were so heavy they were dragging them—pausing to push silver and plate from the large family table that was set for a meal that would never happen.

Two others were dragging the bodies of his older brother Gaius and his father, their limp arms and legs and the broad smears of blood on the stone courtyard telling a silent tale.

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