“I hate the fact that Daddy isn’t here? He isn’t in trouble is he?” Nallia pressed, desperate for any answers he could give.
“I have not heard of Sovaesh at all today, I’m sorry,” Truce said, feeling his heart sink at the look of disappointment on Nallia’s beautiful face.
The sound of the door opening loudly drew all attention and Truce watched his father stroll through with a dark expression. As always Lord Avanti was dressed in the most costly of fashions. Rings winked from every finger as he crossed the room, his gaze refusing to meet anyone. Truce watched his younger brother Nate following closely behind and noted the bruises and cuts that lined his face. Sovaesh trailed them both silently. Though the lower half of his face was covered, the look in his eyes was stormy. His gaze flicked to Nallia in question and then back to his brother. While Truce couldn’t think of any reason why Sovaesh would attack Nate that was certainly what it looked like.
“What happened to Nate?” Nallia whispered to him, and by the worry in her voice he realized she was drawing the same conclusion.
Lord Avanti paused a moment to look down at the children. Dahlla rose quickly and curtsied with a smile. “High Lord Avanti, Lord Nate, Father,” she greeted each in turn in a voice that promised to be beautiful when she was older.
Lucias, who was well accustomed to seeing his grandfather, simply nodded respectfully and promptly grabbed a blue block from Dahlla’s stack. “Grandfather,” he mumbled ignoring his uncle and Sovaesh completely, his attention already set on molding the blue glass in his hands.
Lord Avanti nodded to them both and glanced toward Lady Davahni. The smile faded a bit from his handsome face as his expression grew more calculating. He turned on his heel and made his way to the large desk that occupied most of the northern wall.
“What happened to you?” Truce asked his brother quietly, once their father’s back was turned.
“Don’t trouble yourself over it,” Nate hissed back and followed after their father to stand beside the desk.
“His injuries are the result of his failure,” Lord Avanti said loudly, his gaze fixed on Truce. Truce nodded slightly, not understanding in the least what his father was talking about but knowing better than to mention that fact. He watched his father pour a large tumbler of brandy and waited patiently for the man to continue. “Something that seems to be happening with more frequency in this house,” his father added, his gaze falling on Sovaesh now.
Sovaesh stood straight, his eyes locked on the High Lord. If there was any remorse in the Assassin’s heart, Truce saw no sign of it. As always, he wore the long trench coat as well as his mask and hood. His arms were folded inside the coat and Truce had the uneasy feeling they rested on weapons.
“What is going on?” Nallia whispered as she shifted her stance, leaning more heavily on his arm. He shook his head slowly and pulled his wife closer.
“Nathan was charged to bring me the Fionaveir bastard and in the process of his failure he managed to lose six fighters as well as a transport and, of course, we cannot forget the gold we paid the Rivasans for the rebel,” Lord Avanti said, his gaze falling on his youngest son once more. “Tell your brother what mighty army it took to defeat you, Nathan.”
Nate shifted again and let out a disgusted sigh. Truce felt sympathy for his brother. While they didn’t always get along, it was never pleasant to be on Father’s bad side. “Christian Morcaillo destroyed the ships and stole the prisoner. I recognized his ship,” Nate said, his voice quiet and filled with anger.
“One single solitary boy destroyed our fleet as well as the Rivasan escort, and you were able to do nothing to stop it,” Lord Avanti pressed.
“No one was, Father. There was a dragon there as well and Christian used some magic to make her head explode. It was terrible, Father. I watched the corpse fall to the waves.” Nate’s voice rose as he spoke and he seemed desperate to regain their Father’s approval.
“You disgust me,” Lord Avanti said, his expression echoing his words perfectly. Shaking his head slowly, he turned to regard Sovaesh once more. “And you,” he began, his tone changing from disgust to anger. “I understand you threatened my daughter.”
“If she took it as a threat, you have my apologies. It was meant as a warning,” Sovaesh said calmly.
“You are not in the position to be offering either to any of the Avanti house. You are a servant. Do not let your daughter’s marriage to my son cloud your eyes to your station in life Sovaesh.” Lord Avanti’s voice rose with the words and he stood behind the desk. Bracing his hands on the solid oak, he leaned toward the Assassin with fury clear on his face. “I had thought that we had an understanding, Sovaesh, but it appears we don’t. I have heard whispers of your feelings on my actions and I will not be judged by the likes of you.”
“Whispers, eh?” Sovaesh replied calmly and Truce felt his body tense. He hadn’t breathed a word about his private talk to anyone, but Sovaesh would doubtless believe he had. “Well, I will say it more loudly than a whisper then. I believe you are acting in error by siding with Morcaillo in this would-be war. I detest your daughter’s actions and I warned her against moving further against my son. I think if she presses this conflict Finn will kill her.”