Page 59 of My Noble Disgrace

I tucked the items into my pockets. “F for First Immortal, I assume?”

“No,” he said, pain evident in his eyes.

I gulped. Fiona Merrick. I remembered that Cael had called Cait Fiona when he thought he was speaking to Merrick. But of course, Fiona was already dead by then.

Cael’s eyes lost their sheen and his jaw hardened. “Use the radio if you need to speak to me tomorrow night, but I refuse to be seen anywhere near you, so donotapproach me. Once you have succeeded in your mission, you will find my family’s carriage awaiting you outside.”

“I understand.” My voice was barely audible. “If I do this, you must promise me Graham will never find out.”

“Clearly. I tell him nothing that’s morally questionable. He’s too irritatingly upright.”

Killing a man went far beyond “morally questionable,” but he was right that Graham would never approve. And the last thing I wanted was for him to see me as even more unredeemable than I already was.

“So,” said Cael, “do you want to put Brennin on the throne and find your father?”

I nodded feebly.

“Then do exactly as I say.”

Long after Cael left,I sat in a daze in the living room, staring at the portrait above the mantel.

It was a painting of my mother, and it was beautiful, though imperfect. When I’d first laid eyes on it, the first thing I’d noticedwas what they got wrong—her smile, mostly. I remember thinking it didn’t truly capture her personality. It made her look more serious than she was. Dignity was likely what the artist was aiming for, and they’d accomplished it, but it left out so much of her playfulness and humor, the things I’d loved most about her.

But now, I’d spent so many years looking at the painting that it had practically replaced the memory of her. Being all I had left to look at, the portrait had become her.

And at this moment, she seemed to be disapproving of me.

I turned away, unable to face her serious gaze, even if it was only an imitation.

Cael’s plan was decent . . . but completely indecent. I wanted nothing to do with him or his schemes. I believed I was done being his accomplice in any way. He had no one’s interests at heart but his own.

But . . . he might actually be able to keep his side of the bargain. That was the part that both terrified and motivated me. I didn’t want to acknowledge his capabilities, but holding his title and esteem after the disappearance of the queen who’d selected him was a feat all on its own. I tried to find comfort in the likelihood that Graham would never elect Cael.

But if Cael knew Graham’s secret, he knew where to press.

I hated myself for allowing Cael anywhere near Graham.

I mentally reviewed our conversation, landing again on the part I found unthinkable: Cael wanted me to poison Cardiff Pearce tomorrow at a public ball.

Could I do it?

A single tear dripped down my face as I met the painted golden brown eyes of my mother’s portrait. She would be so disappointed with the person I was turning out to be.

Footsteps thudded up the stairs, then across the dining room floor. “Morning!” said Cait as she came around the corner.“Wow, I slept late. But look at you, all ready except your mustache.”

I laughed darkly. “Well, I was wearing the mustache . . . until Cael showed up and ripped it off.”

“What?” Cait planted herself in the armchair across from me, noticing the tears in my eyes. “Tell me everything.”

Later that day,I walked the cobblestone streets, heading back to the house with the day’s Tribune in hand. The moment I’d purchased it, I’d searched for information about my father, but it said little more than Cael had already told me. He’d been moved to an undisclosed but “high-security” location, Cael had been quoted as saying. I couldn’t be sure if he kept the specific prison details from the Tribune as a way to keep me under his control, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

As I walked, I smiled stiffly at anyone I passed. I garnered instant respect as an Enforcer. I could see it in people’s eyes the millisecond they looked at me. The level of respect was night and day compared to my time as a Quarter C nobody. And as Mara Stroud, I’d been completely unapproachable, someone to gawk at but not truly respect.

I could understand why Cael wanted to keep his power, even if I didn’t approve of it. The First Immortal was arguably the most powerful person in Cambria, even more so than the king or queen, especially if blackmail was involved. They acted as the closest confidant to the ruler, a liaison between the nobles and the Academy.

When I’d told Cait about Cael’s assassination plan, she was supportive, perhaps even morbidly excited about the idea of Pearce’s murder. And of course, she wanted to come to theball, but it was for the potential of getting to Lachlan more than anything. If there was any chance of us both going and not being recognized, we’d need to pay another visit to Zenitha. Fortunately, Cael would be paying her fees this time so we wouldn’t have to beg too hard for another makeover.

When I reached the gates of my home, I used the key Cael had given me, grateful that I wouldn’t have to do any more fence climbing. I could easily pass as an Enforcer patrolling the grounds.

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