The Calamity of a Reborn Witch - Book 3: Chapter 13: A Declaration of War

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Chapter 13: A Declaration of War

“I hope you enjoyed yourself, Ivy, although it looks like we wore you out instead,” Carina observed apologetically as they sat down at their table. The waiter brought by their tray of Black Raven Tea accompanied by freshly baked mini chocolate cakes drizzled with chocolate icing and fresh strawberries.

“Oh, I enjoyed myself, your Grace,” Ivy replied as they waited for the waitress to finish filling their cups. “You have more than spoiled me.”

“It was just a few fans, gloves, and some jewelry,” Carina replied reassuringly. “Accessories are an absolute necessity, even when a lady is in the forest.”

Ivy raised her brows at the Duchess’s less than serious tone and then turned to Hana. “Thank you as well, Viscountess, for allowing me to use your dresses.”

“Please, consider them a gift of friendship,” Hana returned with her usual bright smile. “Perhaps it is because our complexion is so similar, but I think the colors and designs suit you very well, Lady Ivy.” She glanced after their waitress and then laid her folded napkin on the table. “If you ladies will excuse me, I need to find the powder room to freshen up.”

The Duchess looked up from her teacup to check if Hana wanted company, but the Viscountess shook her head and nodded towards Ivy before moving off towards the nearest waitress.

“Well,” Carina cleared her throat as she traced the delicate cherry blossoms painted on the teacup in her hand. “It looks like you and Hana have gotten to know each other a bit better.”

“I suppose,” Ivy replied as she fanned her pale cheeks and watched the faint coil of steam that hovered over her cup. “Kirsi—there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

‘Thank the Saints. I didn’t know how much longer I could hold back.’ The Duchess straightened in her chair as she fixed her gaze on Ivy attentively.

“But—perhaps not here,” Ivy amended with a guilty smile as she folded her new fan and set it on the table. “When we get back to Bastiallano?”

“Of course,” Carina replied with a hasty nod. “I’m glad you decided to tell me. I could tell that something was weighing you down, and you—don’t seem to be feeling all that well either.”

Ivy nodded slowly and fidgeted with the lace of her fan.

“It’s alright,” Carina said reassuringly and reached across the table to touch her friend’s hand. Ivy didn’t pull away immediately, but a grimace of pain and what might have been disgust crossed her face.

‘I just have to hold on a bit longer. This isn’t the best place to have what is obviously a very personal discussion.’ The Duchess pulled her hand back and wrapped it around her teacup awkwardly. “We’ll talk about it once we get back home.”

Ivy raised her gaze questioningly and smiled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you call anyplace home.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Carina replied with a faint chuckle. “Perhaps because it’s the first time I’ve lived somewhere that was entirely my own.”

‘Well, mine and Kirsi’s.’

They moved on to talking about the Royal Hunt, how Carina was responsible for the Royal Family’s safety, and Ivy’s uncertainty about joining the hunt on horseback since she had barely ridden over the past ten years. Carina could only empathize. While she might have Kirsi’s memories when it came to riding, her muscles did not.

Hana rejoined them and settled into her chair with a frown directed at the salon’s street-facing window.

“What is it?” Carina turned to follow the Viscountess’s gaze and watched as Lieutenant Collins dragged a small boy out of the street and then led him towards the front of the salon. “How strange. I wonder what’s going on?”

The Lieutenant dragged his small captive over to their table and cleared his throat. “Apologies for disturbing you, your Grace. This runt has been tailing us since we left the jewelry store. I thought he might be a pickpocket, so I nabbed him, but he claims that someone asked him to deliver this to you.”

Collins held out a blank sealed envelope while the boy struggled beneath the knight’s firm grasp.

Carina checked the envelope and confirmed that it had no identifying markers aside from the circle of hardened black wax that sealed it. She glanced up at the boy curiously. “Who gave this to you?”

“Donno,” he replied bluntly.

“What did they look like?”

“A noble. Just like you.”

Carina arched a brow and tapped the envelope against the table. “Well, were they a man or woman?”

“He was a man, of course.”

“Mind your tone,” Collins snapped with a light smack to the back of the boy’s head.

“What did I say wrong! It was a man, I said. Dressed all nice, with shiny boots, and smelling like a flower.”

“Leave him be, Lieutenant,” Carina retorted harshly and quickly refocused on the scowling boy. “Did this nobleman mention a name, his or whoever the letter came from?”

“No name.”

The Duchess frowned. “What did he say exactly?”

The boy shrugged. “He pointed at your carriage, asked me to follow it, and give you this letter. Said that if I didn’t, he’d know, and I’d be in trouble.”

“I see,” Carina murmured and then narrowed her eyes curiously. “Did he tell you who I am?”

The boy shrugged again. “He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. It’s best not to ask questions, especially from nobles, and since he paid upfront, I didn’t care.”

“How much did he pay you?”

The boy looked at her warily for a moment before replying. “He gave me six crescents.”

“I see. Well, you delivered the message.” The Duchess turned her attention to the boy’s clothes and shoes, which looked too big and heavily patched. “Would you be interested in doing me a favor for double the price?”

The boy’s brown eyes lit up quickly, but he deliberately cleared his throat before replying, “That depends on the details of the job, my Lady.”

Carina smiled as she opened her purse and counted out the crescents which she left at the edge of the table. “It’s a simple job. I want you to go back out on the street, then take a good look about to see if you can spot the man who gave you this letter. If you see him, remove your cap, smack it on your knee twice, then wave it in his direction.”

“What if I don’t see him?”

“Then the fee is yours to keep, and you’ll be free to carry on with your day, pretending you never saw either of us.”

The boy pursed his lips and then turned to glance at Collins. “Will he be following me?”

“The Lieutenant will remain by the shop door when you go outside.” The Duchess turned to Collins and added, “If he gives the signal, see if anyone in the street reacts, follow, and see if you can’t bring them back here.”

“Understood, your Grace,” Collins replied, then waited for the boy to collect his payment before leading the way back to the front of the store.

The Duchess waved down a waitress and asked for a clean knife. Once the waitress brought back a suitable utensil, Carina quickly opened the letter and pulled out two sheets of paper wrapped together. She opened them and found an official-looking document on the inside.

“What is that?” Hana whispered as she and Ivy watched the Duchess curiously.

“It—appears to be some sort of investigative report,” Carina murmured in confusion as she scanned the document, several sections of which appeared to have been blotted out. The top of the document had been stamped Copy in red ink.

The Duchess narrowed her brows in confusion and then froze as her ice-blue eyes settled onto a familiar name, Ivy Koresh.

‘What?’

She scanned the document again, focusing on what bits of the investigation report that were still legible.

The third person of interest is a slave, Ivy Koresh. She served as a personal maid at the Turnbell residence for eight years. Two years before that, she was also a maid to one Lady Edith Merton (deceased), a relative of Lady Helena Turnbell (deceased).

Ivy Koresh is the daughter of one Baron Spenser Koresh (deceased), who served at the royal palace as a Royal Scribe and Historian. Mother, Mrs. Miranda Koresh, is no longer a noble after her husband’s arrest and subsequent execution for treason.

Spenser Koresh’s punishment did not extend to his family beyond the loss of their title. The residential home was sold due to debt incurred by Mrs. Koresh over a period of three months before her husband’s arrest and two months following his death. Ivy Koresh was sold as a slave to a family friend (Lady Merton mentioned above) who promised to look after her.

Ivy is close to the original Person of Interest, one Lady Maura (no surname). Other than the blemish of her father’s name, which she does not use on any public records, Ivy has had no interaction with the law, criminals, etc. However, during her sixth year of service to Lady Maura, Ivy was witnessed purchasing illegal herbs that are commonly used to terminate an early pregnancy. Witness name (blacked out).

After tracking down some old servants of the Turnbell family home, I’ve been led to believe that if there was a pregnancy, the likely father was either a foreign slave known as Gus (location unknown) or Lord Josiah Turnbell (deceased), who had a habit of sleeping with his maids. There is also the possibility of the father being Lord Lincoln Turnbell (deceased), an older half-brother of Lady Maura, but I have found no evidence of this beyond mere speculation and idle gossip.

With sufficient evidence that Ivy Koresh was indeed pregnant and illegally terminated her pregnancy, I believe a case could be brought before a local judge and priest to have her tried for murder. Given that all possible fathers of the unborn child are either dead or missing, the case would require the testimony of a relative or a close, personal friend. My interview with Mrs. Koresh leads me to believe the mother will suit your needs in that regard. She has not adjusted well to her life as a commoner. She has since married and subsequently divorced and still maintains a habit of piling up debts she cannot pay.

The following three witnesses have agreed to testify to witnessing Ivy Koresh buying Devil’s Root: Mr. (blacked out), Miss (blacked out), and Mrs. (blacked out). Payment to witnesses: (blacked out).

Unable to investigate the murder of Lincoln Turnbells any further due to misplaced investigation records. The original investigator is missing, and there appears to be significant pressure from above to discourage anyone from digging further.

The death of Lady Maura’s mother and stepfather has been ruled an accident in connection to the witch attack on the Sister’s Chapel outside the Capital. Unlikely to connect to Person of Interest. I have already verified her presence inside the palace on the day of the attack.

I will end the report here until I receive further instruction from (blacked out).

Respectfully, (blacked out).

Carina could barely hear Hana’s repeated question about the letter’s contents over the rapid pounding in her chest and ears. She quickly switched to the second document, a very short, handwritten note with no signature.

‘If you don’t wish to see Miss Ivy Koresh publicly tried, persecuted, and whipped for her sins, then withdraw from the Royal Hunt.’

The Duchess quickly folded and shoved the letters inside her purse. Cold needles of ice burned against her fingertips as she clutched the table and tried to compose herself. Her mind was already spinning, connecting the information in the letters and specific behaviors about Maura’s family to a period two years ago when Ivy had behaved strangely and requested time off two days off to visit relatives.

‘I can’t be sure it’s the exact date mentioned in the report—but it’s close enough. Damn it. Is this real? Did Jericho or Lincoln—I feel sick.’

“Kirsi!” Hana’s cool hand wrapped around her wrist as the Duchess blinked through the tears hardening against her eyelashes.

“I need to go outside,” Carina whispered tensely as she pushed back her chair, then stopped when she noticed their unfinished meal. “Ivy—are you ready to head back? I can wait—”

“We can go,” Ivy replied swiftly as she rose to her feet. The expression of concern on her face only tore at the hole in Carina’s chest. The Duchess forced a numb smile onto her face and led the way to the salon’s front entrance.

Lieutenant Collins looked faintly surprised as he noticed their approach and quickly opened the door ahead of them.

“Did the boy give any signal?” Carina asked tensely as she paused beside him.

“No. I saw him look about, but then he just ran off,” Collins answered. “Shall I bring your carriage around, your Grace?”

“Please. We’ll wait for you inside.” The Duchess folded her arms and took in a deep breath before she turned to follow Hana and Ivy back inside to wait at a table by the front window. The familiar sensation of eyes crawling over her like spiders, accompanied by whispers and distorted laughter, set Carina’s teeth on edge as she fought to remain calm. She could feel her body temperature dropping rapidly, and judging by the way Ivy shivered and hugged her shawl closer, the sudden drop in temperature around her had not gone unnoticed.

“What’s wrong, Kirsi?” Hana whispered as she nudged the chair closer. Her turquoise blue eyes were patient but overflowing with concern.

Carina only shook her head and tapped her cold fingernails against the table as her mind spun through possibilities.

Right now, there was no way of knowing who had sent the letter, but it was clear they had done some sort of investigation into Maura’s background. The fact that this blackmailer had chosen to use that information to block Carina from attending the Royal Hunt or carry out her responsibility to protect the Crown Prince and Princess narrowed the possible subjects down to those with potentially dangerous ambition.

Only one noble brazen enough to threaten the Royal Family came to mind. A Marquess whose daughter had been passed over as Nicholas’s bride and future queen. The same Marquess that Carina and Nicholas had been investigating in connection to an illegal child sex slave ring and an even more illegal private army of mercenaries.

‘I could be wrong. I don’t have a lot of time to work this out. The Royal Hunt starts first thing tomorrow morning. Backing out this late would completely undermine my authority and position as Duchess. I’m not even sure that Duke Hargreve would be able to step in this last minute.

‘There’s also the possibility that whoever did this isn’t after me but the Crown Prince. I know there was a hunting accident in the past. What if that wasn’t an accident but an attempt to assassinate a member of the Royal Family? If I back out and either Nicholas or Eleanora is killed or injured….’

“Kirsi, our carriage is here,” Hana whispered as she pulled the Duchess to her feet and led the way out to the carriage.

Carina took her seat and glanced towards Ivy. Once again, her old friend was watching her with a familiar worried expression. ‘If I don’t take this threat seriously and comply with their demands, chances are they will come after Ivy to punish me. I need to be prepared.’ The Duchess’s gloved hand quickly tightened into an icy fist as Carina reached inwards. ‘Viktor, I need your help.’

‘I am here, little ice witch,’ The immortal replied as the chaos inside the half-blood’s chest subdued slightly. ‘You already know what you must do.’

Carina fixed her gaze on Ivy and smiled apologetically. “Ivy, when we get back, there is something I need to discuss with you.”

“Yes?” Ivy blinked in surprise and looked suddenly anxious. “What about?”

“It can wait until you’ve told me what you’ve been waiting to say first,” Carina replied firmly. “But we will talk in my office the moment we get back—alone.” She turned her gaze to Hana. “I’ll fill you in on the relevant details later.”

‘It’s possible this might be the secret Ivy’s been meaning to tell me. Even if it isn’t, I still need to know everything that’s been going on. If Ivy was the third person of interest, who were the first two? I need to figure out who’s behind this threat quickly so I can retaliate before they come after Ivy. I have an army at my disposal, but what I really need right now is information, and the Fox Den is obviously out of the question.’

In the distance, a distinct tune of steel hammers smashing against the anvil carried over the rumble of carriage wheels. Carina glanced out the carriage window. Tunnels of smoke unfurl from the blacksmith furnaces below and spread across the market district roof that bathed beneath the midday sun.

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Master Iker continued to smoke his cigar lazily as the setting sun outside his bedroom window lit the clay rooftops of Lafeara in a rusty golden hue. He heard the heavy tread of footsteps on the staircase which led up to his private residential floor but did not immediately turn around when his men entered, dragging the sputtering nobleman through the door.

“What is this? What the hell is going on? Someone had better explain why I’ve been dragged here against my will!”

Iker exhaled another cone of sand-colored smoke towards the window, then stood up slowly to face the flushed and trembling Viscount.

“You—do you know who I am?” Gladstone barked out furiously as he focused on the notorious Blacksmith. “Do you have any idea what punishment you’ll face for abducting a member of the House of Lords!”

“Viscount Wyatt Gladstone, loyal dog and friend of Marquess Borghese,” Iker recited as he moved to lean against the front of his desk and tapped on the worn leather folder which contained his invited guest’s public and more personal information. “A well-esteemed nobleman who knows when to bark and when to roll over and beg. A skill that earned you a seat at the table but not much power or influence to speak of. After all, you never vote against Marquess Borghese, do you?”

Gladstone’s face took on a comical expression as he veered between sputtering fury and caution. Iker continued before the nobleman could make up his mind.

“When it comes to your marriage to Viscountess Charlotte, with whom you have two sons, you appear to forget all sense of loyalty. You’ve been caught fornicating with showgirls, mistress, and even the occasional streetwalker. Your wife has had enough of your behavior and has threatened to expose you to her brother, Earl Chase Coldwell. The same Earl who assisted you in obtaining your title through Duke Hargreve. So—” Iker held his hands wide dramatically, “—who can say how much longer you’ll be holding onto your position as a member of the House of Lords. Especially after my men went all the way to Candle Street to drag you out of Ms. Dolly’s bed?”

Gladstone appeared to have stopped breathing midway through the Blacksmith’s debrief. Iker nodded to one of the ex-soldiers behind the noble, who gave the Viscount a loud smack across his shoulders.

“W-what is that you want?” Gladstone sputtered out quickly. “Is it money?” His trembling lips stretched into a sneer as he choked out a laugh. “Given how much you’ve dug into my personal life, you must know that it is my wife who controls the purse strings. Even I have to beg her for pocket money in order to go out and enjoy myself. Yeah, that’s right. You picked the wrong cheating bastard to blackmail. So, what are you going to do, kill me? You clearly know who I work for. Even if the Marquess only considers me to be his errand dog, he knows I’m loyal and will hunt you down if you so much as—” The Viscount’s rant ended with a sharp yelp as the ex-soldier kicked him squarely in the spine.

“Yes, I did mention the Marquess earlier, didn’t I?” Iker mused as he drew in another mouthful of smoke and then exhaled. “You see, I’ve become rather curious as to what sort of information he entrusts you with, Viscount.”

Gladstone inched away from the men behind him and rubbed his back as he glared at the Blacksmith.

“Perhaps the Marquess has mentioned something recently about his plans for the Royal Hunt?” Iker smiled through the haze of smoke at the nobleman, whose pale complexion now glistened beneath a layer of sweat.

“I’m not going to tell you anything. Either kill me or let me go,” Gladstone barked back almost proudly as he pushed himself back onto his feet.

Iker shrugged and turned to rest his cigar on a waiting ashtray. He then picked up the iron hammer which lay next to it. “Before we get further acquainted, I will cover all your options so you can make an informed decision, Viscount. By the way, you only have two options.” Iker wrapped his left hand around the head of the hammer and then held up two fingers. “Option one, if you give me the information I’m looking for, then you get to walk out of here completely intact, free to continue your liaison with Ms. Dolly without further provocation from myself and my men.”

Gladstone snorted but continued to listen as Iker lowered the first finger.

“Option two ends with you dead, but not right away. Should you refuse to cooperate, I will break every bone in your body one by one until you either tell me what I want to know or drown in your own blood.” Iker smiled as he watched the blood drain from the Viscount’s face. He nodded to the heavy wooden workbench at the corner of his desk, and his men quickly dragged the reluctant nobleman over. “Make sure you take his rings off. We can always smelt those down and pawn the jewels.”

“Wait! No, no! Stop this!”

The men ignored the Viscount’s protests and removed his ring of office and wedding band.

“They should come off first; otherwise, the swelling will take the whole finger later,” Iker explained as he tapped the hammer lightly against his chest. “Not that you’d live long enough to see that happen. Now, should we start with the smallest finger first and work our way up?”

“You-you can’t do this to me! You won’t get away with this!”

The Master Blacksmith laughed and ran a hand over his braided onyx hair. “Come on now, Viscount. How exactly do you see this playing out? You can give me the answers now and walk away, or I’ll make you tell me, break a few more bones to make up for the wasted time and effort, and then chop your body into pieces and burn what’s left inside a furnace. Personally, I’d prefer it if you took option one because the smell of roasted noble is just awful and lingers for days.”

The Viscount had stopped breathing again. His hazel-green eyes had expanded to the point they appeared ready to pop free from his skull. Iker sighed and nodded to his waiting men.

Gladstone whimpered as the soldiers pinned him down against the table, extending his right arm and then hand against the surface.

“Last chance,” Iker chimed in cheerfully as he tapped the nobleman’s trembling fist with his hammer.

“E-even if I tell you. W-what’s to stop you from killing me afterward?”

“And why would I do that? I told you there were only two options.”

“Because—I could tell the Marquess—about you—”

“You’re going to tell the Marquess that you betrayed him?” Iker snorted loudly and shook his head. “While that might make whatever information I get out of you less than valuable, you’d be the first person the Marquess would put into the ground. I, on the other hand, am more than capable of looking after myself.”

Gladstone appeared to consider this, his pale gray eyes scrambling between the hammer and his right hand.

Iker took in another deep breath, then exhaled. “Alright, time to get started. I don’t want to be up all night washing out the blood.” He shifted into a swinging stance as his men leaned against the Viscount’s trapped body.

“Wait!” Gladstone yelped the moment the Master Blacksmith lifted his hammer into the air. “Wha-what do you want to know?”

❆❆❆❆❆

Carina remained silent behind the curtain that separated Iker’s bed from the rest of his office. She listened to the Viscount spill out every possible bit of information he had on the movements of the Marquess and his Army. All he knew was that the Marquess had called a meeting with his military commander and officers just a few days ago and had since seen Borghese pouring over maps of Gilwren forest.

Once Gladstone got started talking, he didn’t seem capable of stopping. Iker steered the conversation towards the slave rings. Gladstone didn’t know where the new tradeoff locations were located, but he suspected the Marquess kept all records of these transactions, to nobles in particular, in a secret ledger hidden in a floor safe at his home office.

“He doesn’t even know that I know it’s there,” Gladstone explained with a hint of smugness. “I happened to spill a glass of wine during one of our weekly meetings. Borghese almost lashed out at me and then sent everyone to the dining room while he cleaned up. I came back with some towels a servant brought over and saw him closing the floorboards over a safe. Didn’t say anything afterward because he was already in a foul mood.”

When Iker turned the conversation towards Duchess Kirsi, Gladstone seemed even more at ease. The insulting names he used when mentioning Carina went in one ear and out the other as the nobleman confirmed that the Marquess had invested a great deal of trouble into digging up Maura’s past.

“It’s not just Borghese,” Gladestone fumed. “The entire Royal Faction is upset about losing the influence and power of Bastiallano. Borghese’s determined to do whatever’s necessary to kick that greedy bitch out. Although, from what I gather, it will be difficult without the support of the Crown Prince.”

The interrogation wrapped up soon after. Carina listened to the footsteps and the Viscount’s grateful and anxious babbling as he was led back through the office door that slammed loudly behind him. Then the Duchess watched the Blacksmith’s shadow through the curtain and met the man’s amber eyes as he pushed the fabric to one side to gaze at her.

“It looks like your hunch was correct, your Grace,” Iker commented casually. He glanced at the untarnished hammer in his hand, then tossed it onto the bed and folded his arms. “Still, this seems too foolish and foolhardy, coming from the Marquess. Even if the plan succeeds, this will blow back on Marquess if he made this decision without the full support of his political party. I don’t see Duke Hargreve standing behind any assassination of the Crown Prince, especially since there is no royal heir to take his place.”

“Would pulling me away from his Majesty’s side even work?” Carina asked quietly. “Surely, Nicholas wouldn’t leave the palace grounds without a proper military escort.”

Iker tilted his head thoughtfully. “In the past, King Henri would often ride through the streets with only two dozen Royal Knights at his side. He arranged for Duke Striker to meet him well out of sight of the Capital to avoid any panic or congestion with the populace. Admittedly, this left the King somewhat exposed for a short period of time, but the Royal Hunt itself could also be considered dangerous. The Duke was never permitted to attach more than ten of his best knights to the King’s Royal Guard—to avoid frightening away the King’s deer.”

‘Wow, that’s probably why the Royal Hunt only happens once a year.’

Carina shook her head slowly. “So, if I didn’t meet the Crown Prince by the bridge on Oakrest River—Nicholas would be vulnerable, especially if he never received word that I had backed out of the Royal Hunt.”

“There would be a problem even if you didn’t send word, your Grace,” Iker replied with a faint shrug. “Duke Striker will be away from the capital for at least a week to ensure the border between Lafeara and Zarus remains quiet for the arrival of the Pope on Holy Saint’s day. That’s probably the main reason Nicholas nominated you to fill in as his protection.”

Carina narrowed her eyes but decided that the Master Blacksmith was being honest, however blunt his words. “So, without me, there will be no army to escort his Majesty and protect him during the hunt.”

“Lord Commander Quentin could fill your place presumably, but that would leave the capital exposed….” Iker growled out a sigh as he turned to collapse onto the bed beside her. “All that matters is that a last-minute change in the Crown Prince’s protection detail would probably leave a few obvious gaps in security. But since I assume you’re still going—”

“I plan to do more than that,” Carina replied grimly.

“Then I’d like to offer my assistance, that is, if you’d care to continue this temporary partnership.” The Master Blacksmith turned to study her with a faint smirk. “It might interest you to know that I have a man or two inside the Marquess’s secret army.”

The Duchess narrowed her eyes. “You do? Why?”

“I’ve done business for him in the past. An army of that size requires plenty of armor and weapons. Borghese ordered them in small amounts and used different Viscounts to claim and pick up the orders, but all deliveries were always forwarded to the same place.” Iker shrugged and tapped his forehead. “I happened to go along, disguised as a delivery man, so I also know the location of the Marquess’s secret training camp.”

Carina stared at him for a moment in mild disbelief. “Why go through all the trouble if you’re just going to take his orders anyway?”

“So I can take him down if the opportunity presented itself.”

The Duchess raised both eyebrows. “Again, why?”

“Because of our mutual friend, Ghost.”

‘Ah, that’s right. I remember Ghost causing quite a bit of trouble for the slave ring before his return to Ventrayna.’

“Then we’re in agreement?” Iker rocked up into a sitting position and then extended his hand towards her. “We’ll continue our partnership until the Marquess has been dealt with, once and for all.”

Carina accepted the offered hand and smiled when the Master Blacksmith reacted to the chill radiating off the silver medallion that she slipped into his grasp. “Make an impression of this and have your men carry its mark on their person so they can be identified if necessary.” She stood and moved past him through the partly open curtains. “I can’t promise that they won’t be caught up in the fray should this rebellion play out, but I will do my best to take prisoners once the Marquess is dead.”

Iker studied the cold silver metal against his palm and smiled. “A wolf suits you, your Grace. I’ll advise my men to slip out undetected the moment things get heavy.”

Carina hesitated as she glanced at the hammer on the bed. “Are you sure letting him go was the right decision

The Master Blacksmith shrugged and lifted up the hammer. “I’ve seen enough men to measure their steel and durability. The Viscount won’t say a word. He values his own hide too much to risk owning up to something like this.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“If I’m wrong, you won’t be implicated,” Iker replied and then moved past her to replace the hammer with his cigar. “It’s a pleasure to finally do business with you, your Grace.”

“Likewise.” The Duchess turned, pulled up her hood, and made her way outside to where a rented carriage waited around the corner. She nodded to the knights in their street closed, boarded the carriage, and stared out the window as the Capital blurred by.

However calm her reflection appeared in the glass, inwardly Carina was still reeling from the events Ivy had finally filled her in on. The fact that Jade had left Ivy with a curse that appeared to be related to the Witch Plague was too much of a coincidence for Carina to ignore.

‘The Six must have something to do with the Plague and Jade coming to Lafeara. And the only one I can go to for answers is Viktor.’