Breaker (Ondine Quartet Book 4) (22 page)

“But you did tell Ian about Scabbard.”

“Well, yeah, I did but —“ Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Oh no. No, man. If something happened, you can’t put that on me. Look, I told him Scabbard was dangerous, that he shouldn’t look for him —“

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know!” His voice acquired a high, uneven pitch. “I only talked to Ian in this cell. I don’t know anything!”

“Then tell me about Scabbard.”

Gilroy squirmed. “I’ve only heard rumors. I never met —“

“Tell me what you know or I’ll order your execution,” I said calmly.

He swallowed, tried to hold my gaze for a second, then dropped his head. “He supposedly grew up in the south. Most people think Florida. Raised in a farming family until his parents were killed. That’s when the Shadow found him and took him in.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I heard.” His voice quivered, gaze darting to my dagger. “Word spread about a nix boy who had the Shadow’s unconditional protection. Even entrusted him with guarding the turning blades.”

Awe threaded his tone. If he’d had the chance to take Scabbard’s place, he would’ve done it in an instant.

Security was too tight for an Aquidae to remain hidden among us. Recent events in the Selkie Kingdom, however,
 
demonstrated that a traitor didn’t necessarily have to be a demon.

But it didn’t line up.

The Shadow had lived in Haverleau. As an all-encompassing narcissist, he wouldn’t want an underling near him. That wasn’t his style.

The thrill would’ve lay in maneuvering our community alone, hidden in plain sight right beneath our noses.

“Randolph, have there been any visitors recently?”

He shook his head. “No one other than Mr. MacAllister.”

“And when did he visit?”

“Last Monday. It was the day
Real Women
aired and there was a big cliffhanger with Jaycee…” He stopped at the look on my face. “Ten days ago, Governor.”

The day Ian returned to Haverleau from Merbais. The Shadow already knew we’d go after Scabbard the following night when he attacked Fontesceau.

How did he find out so fast?

Haverleau’s prison was underground, a bunker built of concrete and essence-infused silver. No windows with only one entry and exit point.
 

Gilroy’s square cell, roughly nine by nine feet, held only a bed, toilet, and sink.

I looked up. Nothing but smooth concrete with a ventilation grate in the corner.
 

Something winked green.

Tristan moved beside me. “What is it?”

I stood on the bed, balanced on the headboard rail, and stretched up. My finger ran along the sides of the metal covering, sensing holes with no screws.

I tugged.

The grate easily slipped off the wall, revealing a dangling object in the air shaft.

Tristan swore.

“What is that?” Gilroy said, panicked.

The tiny, cylindrical camera was attached to a black cord that disappeared up into the shaft’s darkness.
 

A green light flashed on the casing, beside a tiny hole containing a mic.

I saw myself, wide-eyed and edgy, reflected in the lens.

“Where does this shaft lead to?” My voice sounded as if it came from a million miles away.

Silence.

“Randolph!” I whipped around. “Where does it lead to?”

The chevalier scratched his chin, shifted his weight. “It goes straight through the building.”

I leaped off the bed. Tristan joined me outside the cell. “Which section?”

“Accounting, I think—“

We sprinted up the stairs, across the main lobby to the east corridor, and shoved open the ebony door marked with the correct brass placard.

Over a dozen desks were arranged into neat rows across the sterile room.
 

The sounds of clicking keyboards and buzzing conversation abruptly stopped.

“Governor. Your Highness.” A middle-aged ondine in a perfectly pressed suit approached. “May I help you?”

I ignored her and calculated the room’s position in relation to the cell two floors below.

There. Along the west wall.

I approached the young ondine seated behind the worn desk, vaguely recognizing her face. She’d been a year ahead of me at the Academy.

She hastily stood, hand fluttering to her throat. “Oh, um, Governor…”

I crouched. On the floor beside her rolling chair was a ventilation grate identical to the one in Gilroy’s cell.

The covering easily slipped off. I reached into the dark shaft and pulled out the camera and a wireless transmitter.

I removed the attached cord and the flashing green light blinked off.

“What’s your name?” Tristan asked.

The small-faced ondine looked at him with frightened eyes. Limp, dark brown hair hung lifelessly around her shoulders. Her gray cardigan, matching skirt, and sensible shoes blended into the room’s nondescript decor.

“Lacey,” she answered in a small voice. “Lacey Duval.”

The name resurfaced in my memory, once briefly mentioned in the endless stream of Haverleau gossip.

“You dated Bastien.”

The color drained from her lips. “I didn’t know who he was,” she whispered. “I swear.”

She smoothed her skirt and touched the buttons of her cardigan with trembling hands.

Absolute silence reigned. All eyes focused on us.

“Was he here?”
 

Her face blanched.

“Lacey,” I said sharply. “We need to know.”

“You won’t be in trouble,” Tristan added in a reassuring tone. “We just need information.”

She swallowed and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

He’d dated her for that vent.

Accessing the office would’ve been a simple matter of arranging to pick her up from work one day.

It would’ve only taken a few seconds to slide off the grate and position the device straight down.

Lacey, meanwhile, had been busy showing off her cute boyfriend to her co-workers.
 

Tristan took one look at my face and stepped between us.

“As soon as you found out who Bastien really was, why didn’t you notify someone?” he asked kindly.
 

“I’m s-s-sorry,” she sniffed and swiped her nose. “It’s just the s-shock of who he was and I..I let him t-touch me…”
 

The older ondine who’d first greeted us rushed over, alternating between glaring at us and making soothing noises. Lacey turned into her shoulder and sobbed loudly.
 

Tristan stared at the camera in my hands. “He knew everything.”

And I knew nothing.

Including Ian’s whereabouts.

***

During the twenty-four hours following Ian’s disappearance, chevaliers and gardinels conducted the largest sweep in Haverleau history.

The results were devastating.

They uncovered cameras in the Head Chevalier’s office, in the Elites training room, and in the Department of Technology, a small office where Aubrey and Ian worked.

None were discovered in the Governor’s office. But one was found in the Governing House’s formal dining room.

All were places Bastien had accessed while delivering food from Cafe Riviere.
 

He’d violated my life in every way possible, gathering all manner of information from the professional to the intensely personal, then used it to hurt those closest to me.

I strode into the conference room, running on rage and adrenaline.

The clock that first began when the Shadow confronted me in Riviere had started up again.

I couldn’t let it run down.

This emergency closed session of the Council would help me gauge resources. It was time to see the Council members for who they truly were, away from the eyes of the Redavi, the public, and creepy Jourdain.
 

Tristan stood beside me at the head of the room. Jeeves leaned near the door, a deep weariness carved into his handsome face.

The other members took their seats around the long, rectangular mahogany table. Catrin sat to my right, her folded, elegant hands resting on the table.
 

Despite arriving early this morning and running on little to no sleep, she appeared poised and self-assured.

Julian, busy handling the security sweep’s aftermath and debriefing, was the only one missing.
 

As I’d expected, the members barely let me finish speaking before launching into a counterattack.

“You deliberately ignored the Council and carried out a plan involving a known Aquidae sympathizer? You placed a nix in charge?” Marquis Blanchard’s voice rose with each word.
 

“Yes.”

His paunchy mouth opened and closed a few times. “Catrin, explain yourself!”

“I do not have to justify myself to you, Silvain,” she said coolly. “As head of Rivellieu, I did what I believed was right for my community at the request of the Governor.”

“Then you will have to live with the consequences.” Patrice placed her arms on the table and stared at me. “The plan didn’t work. The nix is gone. We will not waste any more elemental lives in a futile attempt to search for him.”

Redavi never fought on the battlefield; yet they possessed a striking instinct for survival and self-preservation.

“Do you want the public to know their Council would rather abandon an elemental in need?” I said, impatient.
 

Every minute spent blathering in here was another minute Ian was in the Shadow’s hands.

“And your solution is to pull chevaliers and gardinels off duty to look for him?” Patrice scoffed. “You didn’t search for Oliver Moreaux because you knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. You’re blinded by the fact that Ian MacAllister is your friend.”

“A friend you’ve blindly allowed access to the inner workings of our government,” Marquisa Rosamund added. “Have you forgotten who his father was? He kidnapped our children!”

“And Mr. MacAllister brought them back,” Nanette said firmly. “Including my granddaughter, Gustave.”
 

“Which doesn’t change the fact that the Governor has failed!” Marquisa LeVeq stood and rested her hands on the table. “She insisted she could end this war. Yet, here we stand with compromised intelligence, more losses, and more damage.”

“Marquisa, you’re missing the point of why we’re here.” Jeeves’ eyes were as frosty as his tone. “We must determine our next course of action, not ruminate on what has already happened.”

“We are not risking gardinels and chevaliers on a nix!” Marquisa Genevieve huffed. Murmurs of agreement came from the other members.
 

“The rescue mission would also involve the retrieval of Oliver Moreaux, a former Council member —”

“With what resources?” Patrice shook her head. “The loss of Oliver is tragic. But this lies outside the scope of what we can allow. Oliver Moreaux and Ian MacAllister wouldn’t have been targeted were it not for their association with Governor Irisavie.”

“Marquisa,” Tristan warned.

Patrice ignored him, drunk on the power of her judgment. “Regardless of how the Governor spins it, this is about her personal friendship with Ian MacAllister. Risking the safety of all to fix a problem caused by the Governor’s poor personal choices is something I will not stand for.”
 

“She’s right,” a quiet voice said.

Aubrey leaned against the doorjamb. Dark shadows ringed her eyes and her freckles stood out in sharp relief against her pale skin.
 

Patrice shot me a smug look. “I asked Ms. Rossay to drop by and share her version of events. She was, after all, closest to the missing nix.”

Tristan tensed and worry briefly flashed through Jeeves’ eyes.

She’d blindsided us.

I schooled my expression to betray nothing.

“You were saying?” Patrice prompted.

“The Governor made a number of critical errors, primarily by assigning an unqualified individual to head a risky operation.” Flat coldness underscored Aubrey’s voice. She didn’t look at me. “I objected to Ian’s participation but was assured that safety was a top priority.”

Tristan shifted closer. He didn’t touch me, but the warmth of his body pressed against my back.
 

It wasn’t enough to take away the sting of Aubrey’s words.

“The Shadow is clearly targeting the
sondaleur
and her known associates. Going after Ian and Oliver may be diving right into another trap.”

She finally looked at me. The cold rejection reflected in her eyes knifed through my chest.

“Ian should never have been used in the mission. The weight of that mistake lies with the Governor.”

Jeeves studied Aubrey, concern etched into his brow.
 

“Finally, a well-reasoned statement on the subject.” Delighted triumph flashed across Marquis Rossay’s round face.
 

“I just wanted to have my say.”

The wall I’d first seen after Merbais shuttered Aubrey’s face again and she left. A surprised silence settled over the room.

“Well, Ms. Rossay has clearly matured into an accomplished young woman.” Patrice nodded at Marquisa Rossay. “You must be very proud, Annette.”
 

Aubrey’s distant relative swelled with greedy pleasure. “Yes, yes. She has always been rather bright.”

It was the first time she’d ever acknowledged Aubrey’s existence.
 

Jeeves slipped out the door after her. I appreciated the gesture but knew it was futile.

Aub was a lot of things: brilliant, quick, impatient, brave. Someone who didn’t let shit stick to her for long.

But she was also stubborn, both in her love and anger, and had a very low tolerance for failure.

I stepped away from Tristan’s warmth. “My mistakes shouldn’t be a factor. Ian MacAllister fought on behalf of elementals. He risked his life to rescue Haverleau’s children and for this mission in New York. We have a duty to bring him home.”

“You cannot have it both ways, Governor,” Patrice said. “You cannot defend our people while pursuing such an aggressive offense.”

“And what is your proposal, Marquisa?” Tristan’s polite tone contained an edge of steel. “How do you envision us proceeding from here?”