Charlotte and Sophie took their seats next to a blond blueblood. He turned, displaying a familiar profile. Spider. Also known as the Count of Belidor. Sophie murmured something. He leaned over with an almost paternal expression on his face and said something. She nodded.
It must’ve hurt her to sit close to him. George had tried to talk to her about it last night, as much of a conversation as one could manage when one communicated by means of a dead squirrel and voice projection. She said it was so painful, it was almost sweet. He thought about it for a while, but he still couldn’t figure out what she’d meant.
He saw Jack drift in through the doors. He moved quietly, sliding between groups of people, and nobody paid him any mind, as if he were invisible. A moment later he stopped next to him. “Hey, Ugly.”
“Hey, Stupid.”
“Can you smell it on me?”
George gave him a look. “No.”
They had spent the last three hours in the room behind the mirror. It was a narrow space used mostly by staff and currently empty. The two of them and Kaldar had pulled apart the thin wooden panels until the back of the mirror was exposed, stripped the protective paint layer, then sprayed a silver solvent on the back of the mirror, turning the reflective surface into simple glass.
Kaldar had raided the Mirror’s stash of gadgets, and they attached four barrier generators on the back of the now-transparent glass, stretching a spell across its back surface. As long as the room remained undisturbed, nobody would be able to tell that the mirror had been tampered with. Immediately after they finished the job, Jack began obsessing that he had a chemical smell. Normally, George tolerated his brother’s quirks, but at the moment they had bigger things to worry about.
“Do you think it will work?” Jack asked.
“If this doesn’t work, I’ll kill him myself.”
George didn’t need to specify—“him” meant Brennan. Brennan was the root of the evil that had damaged their lives. Too many people had suffered, too many had died. He couldn’t be allowed to exist.
“Agreed,” Jack said. “We’ll do it together.”
Across the hall, Richard stepped inside. He saw Rene and Angelia standing together in the corner and walked in the opposite direction, taking position against a column, much like George’s.
The Grand Thane walked into the lobby, the Marchesa on his arm. The conversation died. The older man led his bride-to-be to the center of the room, to their table, and sat. Brennan followed him among the other bluebloods, taking the seat at a table nearby. His face wore a solemn expression.
Jack bared his teeth, quick like a knife cut, and hid them again.
“Come on.” George pushed away from the column, and they walked to their seats at their assigned table next to the Duchess of the Southern Provinces.
“Boys,” she greeted them with a smile.
“My lady.” They both bowed.
“Please sit down.”
They sat.
“How is it going?” Lady Olivia asked quietly.
“Well so far,” George answered. The most difficult thing about Brennan was that he made an unpredictable opponent. The murder of Maedoc had proven that. What they were about to do was calculated to unbalance him, make him spin out of his orbit, and once he did, he would become a human wrecking ball, destroying everything in his path.
A tall man in the uniform of the Castle Guard strode into the room and onto the raised platform at the front. “My lords and ladies, may I have a moment of your time.”
Quiet fell onto the gathering.
“My name is Celire Lakita. I’m in charge of the security for the Pierre de Rivière. This morning, a murder occurred on these premises.”
Nobody gasped. Everybody had already heard the news.
“I want to assure you that your safety isn’t in question.” Celire paused. “We know that the murder took place on the Upper Northern Balcony. We know that four assailants were involved. We know why it occurred. We know who is responsible.”
George focused on Brennan. The big man sat absolutely still, his face a cold mask.
“I will now speak to the killers directly.” Celire looked at the gathering. “We know who you are. Rest assured that this matter will be resolved by the day’s end. Attempting to escape is futile—you will note increased security presence in the hallways. You have until this evening to make things easier on yourself and retain some small measure of dignity. If you don’t cooperate, your fellow conspirators will. The measure of my mercy is small and dwindling by the minute. To the rest of you, please enjoy your meal.”
He stepped down.
The hall buzzed with a dozen simultaneously started conversations. It was a carefully crafted speech. Kaldar and Richard had spent forty-five minutes writing it. Once Kaldar flashed his Mirror credentials and dangled the possible arrest of Maedoc’s murderers in front of Celire, the head of castle security proved more than willing to play his part in laying the trap. Now, Brennan had to react.
Do it, George willed silently, staring at Brennan’s back. Do it. You know you want to talk to them.
Brennan flicked open a pen.
“Pen,” Jack murmured.
“I see it.”
Brennan wrote something on a piece of paper and flagged down a waiter. The waiter weaved his way to the table where Rene and Angelia sat together. The waiter dropped off the note. Rene looked at it. His face turned pale. He passed the note to Angelia.
Five minutes later, he sent one of his own. The second note arrived at Richard’s table. He folded his napkin, rose, and walked out.
Three minutes later Angelia rose. Rene carefully escorted her to the door. Brennan was the last to leave.
He had to take them to the side room. It was the only private room quickly accessible from the Grand Dining Hall. Security blocked the hallway on the left, and the hallway on the right opened into staff areas and kitchens filled with people.
The mirror shivered. Someone had opened the side room’s door, and the draft had disturbed the delicate web of the spell.