Married (15 page)

Silviu pointed with his two raised fingers. “Graves can’t seem to leave Georgie alone.”

Silviu fought to organize his thoughts. He pushed away from the dresser and made an agitated circuit of the room before finally coming to a stop in front of his sister. He made a real effort to focus past his fear and anger, trying to pinpoint the niggling doubts invading his memory. When he spoke, his words came slowly.

“Madeleine pointed out that Graves wasn’t lusting after Georgie, he was simply trying to gain power over her. All his sexual innuendos have been calculated to throw her off guard, but when we first arrived, Iley, Graves
did
want you. I saw the lust in his eyes very clearly.”

“She’s prettier than my cousin.” Silviu rounded on Adam with a snort of denial but the other man only raised his hands. “Hey, I’m just saying. Georgie may be my favorite cousin, but I have eyes. You’re biased, but I can see how Graves would truly want Ileana.”

“He touched her,” Eliasz growled.

Silviu clenched his fists against the anger that poured through him when Ileana’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment. He wasn’t any happier about Graves’ hands being on her than she was, but he’d had to be the voice of reason. Though he’d have rather pounded Graves’ face to a bloody pulp.

“And I just stood there like an idiot,” Ileana whispered.

Something regretful flashed in Adam’s eyes. “No, honey, not like an idiot. Like a woman trained to give power to the men around her. Like a woman trained to depend on men to care for her. I’ve been in that same situation, and never thought to defend myself or say no to the uninvited touches of matriarchal women until my grandmother stood up for me.”

Eliasz moved over to Ileana and folded her in his arms. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“He hasn’t tried since then,” Ileana said as she sank into her betrothed’s embrace. “He hasn’t even spoken to me since the night we arrived.”

Silviu was happy to hear that, but his sister’s statement also caused a river of unease to move through him. “Why not? What changed that he transferred his attentions to Georgeanne, when he doesn’t really want her?”

“Power,” Adam’s shoulders lifted, “like my grandmother said.”

Eliasz frowned. “Maybe he’s trying to distract her. Georgie is bold and intelligent enough to figure this out, or she’d just ask Daniel what was going on and measure his reaction. Maybe Graves is trying to prevent that.”

“Daniel allows his behavior.” Silviu clenched his fists. “As far as I know, he hasn’t seriously reprimanded Graves on his treatment of my betrothed. He’s only made a few vague comments on his manners toward the Davenolds in general.”

Adam focused on the Levy man. “What would they be distracting Georgie
from
?”

“I don’t know, but there are strange things going on here, and Graves was unhappy with Silviu’s arrival.” Eliasz nodded toward his brother-in-law. “Maybe your presence upset some plan we can’t even begin to imagine.”

Silviu considered. “He might be trying to weaken Georgie’s authority at the same time he keeps her from learning whatever plot he’s concocted.”

“Maybe not her authority,” Eliasz murmured, “but her confidence?”

Silviu had spent countless hours learning to manipulate others, countless hours putting all his talent, both magical and mental, to good use. He knew what to look for when others manipulated and he knew how to recognize even the most subtle of power plays.

But Graves was playing a game deeper than any Silviu had encountered before. There was no evidence to hold on to, and Graves was unpredictable enough that, for all their speculation as to his end game, it truly might be madness that provoked his actions. Or it might be simple enjoyment of making others miserable.

The weight of the world descended on Silviu’s shoulders. He worried for his sister’s safety and would kill his reluctant host outright before he let Graves hurt Georgie. But Silviu couldn’t get a handle on what was happening around him. Frustration chewed on his nerves.

Eliasz cleared his throat. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. Maybe it’s not Georgie being distracted, but you, Silviu.”

“How do you figure that? He didn’t know I was coming.”

“Maybe his plans changed when you showed up on his doorstep. You’re focused on Georgeanne, which means you can’t be paying as much attention to your surroundings as you possibly could.” Eliasz scowled, but it was a thoughtful expression rather than angry. “There’s that old rivalry issue in the Ngozi past that should probably be taken into account, after all.”

Silviu cocked a brow. “Have you learned anything more about it?”

“What are you talking about?” Adam looked between the two men.

Eliasz grimaced. “I don’t know much, but I do know Graves had a falling out with his Family Father—”

“Everyone knows that.” Adam waved a hand.

“But,” Eliasz continued, “Graves wasn’t supposed to lead this branch. The man who
was
disappeared. As far as I’ve heard, Muso Ngozi swore he’d never even return to England after whatever it was that caused the rift to happen, let alone speak to Graves. Yet, he’ll be here in a day or two.”

“The marriage of the secondary branch leader is an important thing,” Adam said slowly. “Especially when it creates an alliance with the Levy Father. The political ramifications will ripple out over every coven, on both sides of the Schism. A Family ruler would want to make themselves available for the ceremony.”

Silviu went cold as facts reordered themselves in his mind. “You don’t think Graves is trying to assassinate Muso Ngozi, do you?”

“And gain Daniel an edge in Council politics?” Eliasz twisted his lips but shook his head. “I suppose it’s possible, but it seems too straightforward for Graves. Why bother to do so now?”

Ileana cocked her head. “Because of the Njele alliance.”

Silviu dismissed his sister’s words with a frown. “No, their alliance is almost a year old. Daniel’s real trouble with it comes from the fact that his popular Councilman is retiring and he’s not sure who would be most effective in his place.”

Ileana shrugged and tried again. “Maybe Muso stands against his match with Constance.”

“You think Graves would kill for her?” Adam snorted. “I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Silviu took a deep breath, fighting for calm, fighting against a rising sense of urgency. Intuition was screaming for him to learn the truth before it was too late, but he feared he’d fail in that regard. “There are too many variables, too many possibilities, and Graves isn’t exactly a picture of mental health.”

“It seems to me,” Adam said slowly, “that it all pivots on the relationship Graves has with Daniel. Of the two, Graves may have more magic, but Daniel has the most influence in the world, and I would think that’s what Graves wants the most. Magic alone isn’t enough to send you to the top.”

“You make a good point, and that might be the easiest thing to figure out. We should all keep our eyes and ears open, and pay close attention to everything that happens between the two men.” Silviu sent Eliasz a meaningful glare. “Listen close to whatever rumors come your way.”

“I’m trying, but I keep hitting dead ends. Like someone is hiding the information very carefully.”

Silviu managed to restrain his snarl. “Try harder. There’s too much at stake for failure to be an option.”

Chapter Thirteen

Tulah

Tulah slipped out of her room and pulled the door closed as quietly as she could. For a moment, she held absolutely still, her ears practically quivering, with only her heartbeat making any sort of noise in the thick silence swathing the hotel.

She crept down the hall, urged on by tempting fantasies of eating breakfast alone, without Graves or Charles at the same table. The sun was barely up, but the kitchen staff would already be busy, their workload doubled with the preparations for the betrothal dinner and the wedding.

Without thought, Tulah walked down the very center of the ugly hall runner, moving away from the walls and doors. Bitter amusement filled her when she realized, but the press of magic rolling from the Davenolds’ rooms pushed from both sides and held her firm to the middle of the corridor. In their doorways, Adam had recreated the spell Graves had put on the exits, but had layered in a repulsion that gave fair notice before the magic struck. It was a clear warning, as good as a neon sign.

She wished there had been such a sign at the top of the stairs to the lobby. Graves waited for her on the bottom step, leaning against his emerald-tipped walking stick. There was no way she could turn back. He watched her with emotionless eyes, his lips thinned, menace rolling off him in tangible sheets. He beckoned with an imperious gesture that put her teeth on edge.

She went to him, but didn’t take his hand. Graves was unconcerned, wrapping his steely fingers around her elbow and tugging her down the last few steps.

“Muso will be here soon,” he said. “He won’t wish to hear your sob stories, he won’t value your opinions. You’re only a female and the Ngozis were one of the first Families to convert to patriarchy.” His fingers tightened. “Do you understand?”

She kept her eyes firmly on the floor so they couldn’t betray her. “I understand.”

“Muso has no interest in our affairs in England, and only a passing curiosity about you. Don’t fucking bore him.”

Tulah glanced around the empty lobby. They were alone. There were no signs of preparation for the Ngozi Father’s arrival, no men scurrying around, readying themselves to meet the man and his entourage. She lifted her gaze to the still-dark windows and tried to force a note of unconcern into her tone, desperate to keep Graves from discovering how important the Father’s arrival was to her. “When will he be here?”

“His plane landed thirty minutes ago.”

That had her blinking. “It’s barely dawn.”

Graves’ lips pulled tight, his fingers convulsed around her arm. “He will join us for breakfast.”

She breathed slowly, tamping down the mix of fear and excitement setting her belly on fire. She tried to pull a veneer of calm around her as she always did when she faced the unknown. This morning, it was hard to do.

Graves changed his grip, hauling her closer to speak into her face with a growl that did its best to inspire blind obedience. “None of his men will rescue you, none will care what I do with you.”

She couldn’t help herself. “And yet, Muso requested my presence.”

She could see the struggle on Graves’ face. He wanted to strike her, scream at her, shake her, maybe kill her. He wanted to punish her for his own crimes and his own shunning by the larger Family. The English Ngozi branch was on the outskirts of Family influence, all but ignored by the others, with only Graves’ reckless arrogance giving them any sort of power in the world.

It was truly a shame that Graves wielded so much personal power in the witching world. It only made the Family less necessary to his goals.

“Well, you are one of us,” he finally gritted out. “You carry the main bloodline within your veins, diluted and corrupted though it might be. Muso no doubt wants to examine you and see how much of your father’s weakness you inherited.”

Tulah reared back. “He wasn’t weak!”

Again she found herself hauled against Graves’ chest, his fingers burning into her arm. “Oh, no?” Graves all but snarled. “I disagree. And so does Muso. After all, Joseph walked away from his position and the women he was supposed to care for.”

“Liar!” She commanded her brain to still her tongue, she prayed that her vocal cords would simply cease working, but words still flew past her control and tumbled from her mouth. “Muso knows all about you and how you work. I’ll tell him all your crimes, how evil you are!”

“Do that, pet, and I’ll give you to Charles. You know the rules.”

She barely heard him. “I bet Muso wants to take me away from you!”

He shifted with blurring speed, tucking his walking stick under his arm. Graves’ now-free hand came up to close around her neck, finally halting her words. Slowly, his fingers tightened, sending pain deep into her esophagus. Something fragile under her chin shuddered dangerously.

“My pet, you know not of what you speak.” Graves’ eyes flashed, but the noise he made was almost regretful. “At best, he wants to make sure I haven’t bartered you away, as I should have done when you were still young enough to learn proper obedience. But what man would want such an unworthy creature for a wife?”

Tulah winced, going to her toes as Graves applied more pressure at her throat. “Yes,” he continued, “you are substandard.”

Graves laughed and released her. Swinging his stick carelessly, he pushed her away and watched coldly as she raised a hand to her neck to rub at the impression his fingers had left behind. “Do you think Muso will do more than look you over and dismiss you?”

“And if he brought his wife?” Tulah cursed herself for not biting her tongue. “Maybe I’ll appeal to her! Woman to woman.”

“She’s Njele!” Graves surged forward as a burst of true anger hardened his face. His stick thumped the floorboards. It was all Tulah could do to stand her ground, and she nearly collapsed in relief when he kept his hands to himself. “He married her to cement the alliance between the Families of Africa, northwest to southeast. Now he’s stuck rearing her bastard child!”

“Still, he married her. She’ll—”

“That makes her a fucking spy for her Family. The Njeles are weak and useless, ravaged by the witch hunts. If you think I’ll allow you to give her any information concerning this branch you are dangerously mistaken.” Graves pushed her chin up with the emerald end of his stick. “I’ll cut your fucking tongue out first.”

“Maybe I can live without a tongue.” Tulah winced. She would certainly stay alive longer without one.

“And maybe I’ll skin your mother alive and wear her like a cloak.”

His tone penetrated her rebellion. He was deadly serious. Cold and calm, Graves was at his most dangerous, his most lethal. His most insane. The true witch stood before her, the one filled with arrogance and greed, the man who kept the entire branch dancing to his tune, terrified that he would do to them what he’d done to Tulah’s father.