Gaston leaned back a bit. “Who’s asking?”
This wouldn’t go well “What do you mean, who’s asking? I’m asking. Are you that stupid? What are you, some kind of inbred hick?”
“Here we go,” George muttered.
Gaston shrugged. “I tell you what, run along. I have no time for spoiled rich babies.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Jack lunged forward. He was fast, but not faster than George, who stepped out of the way half a second before Jack struck. Gaston threw his hand up, and Jack ran face-first into his fist.
That had to hurt. William winced. Gaston had fists like hammers. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with them yet, but Jack wasn’t hard to stop. He all but threw himself.
Jack spun from the impact. A low feline growl tore from his mouth.
Okay, that was about enough of that. William hopped over the balcony and landed between them. The jump almost took him off his legs. He was still too weak, but the kids didn’t know it.
William looked the boys over. In two years George had grown taller and filled out. He’d never be bulky, but he was no longer thin and sickly. His pale hair was cut in the same manner as Declan’s when Declan kept it short. His clothes were meticulously clean.
Jack wore a ripped-up shirt. His nose was bleeding. His eyes shone every time he turned his head. The kid was strung up too high.
“What the hell are you doing?” William asked.
Jack wiped the blood from his nose. “Nothing.”
“Why the hell would you run at him? He outweighs you by sixty pounds.”
Jack looked away.
“He’s also taller than you by eight inches. First order of business—make him shorter.”
William dropped down and swiped with his leg, knocking Jack’s feet out from under him. The kid was fast, but he wasn’t paying attention. His legs went one way, his head went the other. He fell into the grass and bounced back up, hissing like a pissed-off cat.
“Your turn,” William said. “Go for it.”
Jack lunged at Gaston’s legs. Gaston tensed and jumped, catching the lower branch of an oak.
Jack rolled up. “What the hell?”
“Did you expect him to stand still for you?”
Gaston grinned.
“Go on,” William said. “Try to get to higher ground.”
Jack scrambled up the tree, trying to get a drop on the older kid. They squared off in the branches, kicking and talking shit.
William and George watched them.
“How have you been, George?”
“Good, thank you. I’m really glad you are back,” George said. “Will you stay?”
“I don’t know.”
George sighed and for a moment he looked just like the weak, pale kid William had met two years ago. “I wish you would stay,” the boy said. “It would be better for everyone. Especially Jack.”
THE dining room was huge, William reflected. His whole house would fit into it. It was also mostly empty. The Duchess had pulled Rose away to her rooms for some sort of female reason, and it was only Declan, him, and the kids sitting at the enormous table.
George sliced his food with surgical precision, as if he’d spent the entire two years in the Weird taking etiquette lessons. He was meticulously clean. Both Gaston and Jack were filthy, smeared with dirt and covered with scratches. Jack had stuffed some wadded paper up his nose—Gaston had tapped him again—while his ward sported a shiner where Jack managed to kick him.
“What happened?” Declan asked.
Jack bared his teeth at him. “We fell.”
“Together?” Declan said.
Gaston looked at his plate.
“Tell him,” William said.
“He made a comment about hicks. Then I made a comment about spoiled babies. Then he ran into my fist and we had words.”
Declan looked at Jack. “Why the hell would you run at him? Should’ve gone for the legs.”
Jack opened his mouth.
Nancy Virai walked through the door.
Declan choked on his steak.
Erwin followed Nancy, wearing the familiar apologetic smile.
William started to get up.
“Don’t rise on my account.”
Declan rose anyway and bowed. “Lady V. What a pleasure. Please sit down.”
Erwin stepped out from behind Nancy and held out a chair. She sat, and he positioned himself behind her chair.
Nancy’s sharp eyes fastened on William. “If you are wrong, the assault of Kasis will cause a diplomatic mess.”
“I’m not wrong,” William said.
“Ten years. That’s my price for this foolishness.”
William blinked. “Ten years?”
Nancy rested one long leg over the other. “If I do this for you, the Mirror will have the use of your services for ten years. And of course, you will turn the journal over to us.”
“Don’t do it,” Declan cut in.
Nancy turned to him. Her raptor eyes stared at him for a second. “The Mirror appreciates Earl Camarine’s zeal in offering advice to his friend. However, from where I am sitting, it seems that Lord Sandine is, in fact, wearing his big-boy pants, as they say in the Broken. He’s capable of making that decision on his own. Yes or no, William?”
“Gustave lives and I get to take the Mars out of the Mire. They will receive Adrianglian citizenship.”
Nancy tilted her head. “Does the girl mean that much to you?”
He bared his teeth at her. “Take it or leave it, Nancy.”
“No,” Declan repeated.
Nancy smiled. George drew back. Jack hissed.
“You have your deal. Earl Camarine, the wards of the House of Camarine, and the ward of the House of Sandine, will bear witnesses to this agreement on their honor.”
Declan dragged his hand across his face.
“I understand the Duchess is in residence,” Nancy said.
“Yes,” Declan nodded. “She would be sorely disappointed if you left without speaking to her.”
Nancy smiled again. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
WILLIAM left for Kasis the next morning, Gaston with him. Declan decided to come at the last minute. It felt off, William reflected. Almost as if they were back in the Legion.