Although the Highcastle of Elliven was hypothetically built to house the entire High Court of the bastion city, the vast majority of its nobility preferred to also maintain some form of manor or estate within the city itself, where their extended family and staff could live without crowding the wings dedicated to them inside of the keep itself.

So, the day after Adeline received a letter from a man she had once called her brother, her steps carried her not to the Highcastle itself, but to one of the many satellite properties that surrounded it.

Despite their wealth, prestige, and political power, the Gerrot family didn't occupy one of the opulent mansions that had been built during the founding days of Elliven. Having come to the city much later than many of its other established nobles, Lysander Gerrot had instead purchased a block of buildings that had once housed a variety of luxury artisans, as well as the arcade they had once sold their pieces at. He had then worked with the architects of the Builders' Union to conjoin the buildings, creating a sprawling, open air compound that managed to combine splendor, luxury, and austerity into a single beautiful estate.

As a Gerrot servant led Adeline through what had once been the central shopping arcade, she couldn't help but briefly marvel at the hanging gardens of the Gerrots, the natural ivy that had once been cultivated in the arcade now replicated by ornate filigree of tarnished copper and gold, leaves replaced by complex metal replicas and even sparkling gems. Though beautiful, the dazzling artificial vines magnified the bright sun overhead, rather than obstructing it as the ivy once had, and Adleine had to lift a hand to shield her eyes by the time they were halfway through the empty courtyard that had once been a bustling shopping center.

The gardens were, Adeline decided, a representation of Lysander himself: an aesthetically gorgeous depiction that ultimately failed to replicate the actual purpose of what it had replaced.

#

Lysander's office, like the rest of his estate, was a marked contrast to those of his peers. While most of the high nobility of Elliven preferred to keep their personal chambers in high points of their mansions, with breathtaking views of the city below, Lysander occupied a simple, stolid room on the ground floor of what had once been a chandler's workshop. The place was brilliantly lit, the variety of sconces and hooks that had once displayed the chandler's wares now holding ornate chandeliers, candelabras, and glowstones. Clever runes and artifice created an area of comfortably dim light in the exact center of the room, where Lysander's desk sat, along with several additional chairs.

The most powerful noble in Elliven rose gracefully to his feet as Adeline entered, and he sketched a reserved bow.

"Little sister," he greeted her, his voice warm, "it's been too long."

"We saw each other at yesterday's assembly," she told him flatly. The knight-gallant wanted to stand by the door, to express her reservations with answering his invitation, but the dancing lights of the study were too bright, and Adeline found herself forced to cross to the magically enforced dome of steady dimness that filled the room's center. Another calculated gesture, she was sure.

"No," he corrected her gently, "Lady Adeline Argent saw Lord Lysander Gerrot at yesterday's assembly. But by my count, it's been nearly fifteen years since I had a chance to sit down, as Lys, with darling little Adel."

Adeline sighed. "The memory of Lys is the only reason I answered your invitation," she told him bluntly. "And I am more convinced by the minute that the man I once called brother no longer lives in this estate."

Lysander frowned, and Adeline could've sworn, for a moment, that she actually saw some regret pass over the noble's face.

But no. Even if she had, she could only assume that was a calculated gesture, an attempt to garner sympathy from her.

Lys, her older brother, the man who had taught her to hold a sword, was dead. This craven, self-obsessed powermonger merely occupied his hollow shell.

"Please, sit," Lysander asked, his voice more reserved. He waited politely until Adeline had hesitantly taken a seat in one of the plush chairs facing his desk before he sat back down.

"What is this about?" Adeline asked.

"I can't simply want to catch up with my little sister? It's been a long time, Adel."

"You don't have a little sister," she told him, carefully refusing to let any heat enter her voice. "I renounced the Gerrot family name years ago."

Lysander frowned again–and then something changed in his face. All expression faded, until he studied her with calm, direct eyes, his mouth a smooth line. It had been a while, but Adeline recognized that the man had begun drawing upon his gift of serenity, borrowing calm from the Artist's blessing, giving him the same remote equilibrium that had made him so feared as both a duelist and a politician.

"It's good that you mention that," Lord Gerrot said, "for that is just the concern that led me to call on you."

Adeline tilted her head, letting the man speak.

"It's my understanding that one of my peers has been calling on one of yours, creating… tension that ill serves either of our purposes."

"You speak of Arthur Dennan and Olivia Argent," Adeline said, carefully stressing each last name.

"I do."

"And you expect me to believe that you have nothing to do with one of your closest allies incessantly needling my former squire?"

Lysander spread his hands in a placid gesture of vast indifference. "Believe as you wish, Adeline. But it doesn't advance my agenda to have such personal attacks directed at you or your knights. To say nothing of my personal views on Dennan's prejudices…"

"Fine," Adeline said, "let's pretend I believe you. Why do you bring them up?"

"Out of simple curiosity," Gerrot explained, still in that infuriating calm tone. "I do not understand why neither you nor your junior knight have challenged Dennan to trial by combat over his words."

Adeline clenched her jaw, her own gift of passion simmering in her chest despite her attempts to keep her words as level as Lysander's. "Because," she all but growled, "Dennan has made it clear that he enjoys your enthusiastic protection. As both myself and Olivia are battle-gifted, Arthur would have the right to declare a champion in any duel–and no good would come of pitting the Argent Order against you or Allid."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"A notion I can more than agree with," Lysander said, to Adeline's surprise.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Just what I said," Lysander explained. "Like you, I have no plans for any differences between us to reach the point of open combat. Even should I win a fight of that sort, in doing so I'd be striking a blow against the Crown's own chosen herald–it's all too likely that would lash back on me." The lord paused a moment, steepling his finger in front of him, before he continued, "Besides which, my relationship with Arthur Dennan is one of mutual political gain. I have nothing to gain and much to lose in helping Dennan pursue this personal grudge of his–and each time he further poisons relations between my coalition and yours, it only worsens the situation in Elliven."

Adeline studied the man that had once been her brother, considering his words. "You have to understand my reluctance," she said. "This entire conversation could be a ploy, a trick to get me to extend myself too far."

"Perhaps," Lysander admitted, unperturbed, "but-"

"No."

Lysander arched an imperious eyebrow, but Adeline held up a hand, forestalling any further words from the man. She couldn't trust him like this, that much was obvious. This suave manipulator would say anything to get ahead, which made his every word suspect. She needed some proof, some evidence… and to get that, she needed, first and foremost, to shake him out of his serenity, to provoke an actual, human reaction from him.

And she only had one thing that would do the trick. Adeline took a sharp breath, bracing herself–and then she spoke the words she had buried inside a year before, when she had met Allana and Tenebres for the first time, and learned their story.

"Did you know our brother is dead?"

Lysander froze, as still as if the words had turned him to stone. Not good enough.

"What did you say?" he asked, his voice distant. He was obviously pulling even more from his gift.

"Geoffrey. He's dead. A crimelord named Telik, in Emeston, murdered him over a year ago."

Lysander stood sharply, his chair toppling behind him–and his serenity finally shattered, a mirror breaking to reveal the stunned pain underneath. "How?" he asked breathlessly. "How do you know?"

"Two of the young people travelling with Olivia. They studied with him–and they avenged him." Tears burned in Adeline's eyes as she spoke the words. She had hidden this from everyone–from Farris, from Olivia and the others, even from Kenton and Tobias. She had learned of her brother's death in a forest in the middle of the deadlands, and then she had simply had to keep moving.

For the first time, Adeline allowed herself to truly feel everything she had hidden after she had learned of her brother's death–and the news seemed to shake Lysander just as deeply. The most powerful lord in Elliven bent over his desk, his hands clenched in fists tight enough to make subtle scars stand out, and tears–real tears–fell from his bowed face.

And finally, Lord Lysander Gerrot was gone, and Lys stood in front of her, bowed with the pain he had carried since their father had betrayed their family years before.

"Adel," he said weakly.

"I know, Lys," she replied, her voice as soft as his. She stood, and even if she couldn't bring herself to hug the shell of her former brother, she placed her hands on his desk, touching his.

"I suspected…" he admitted, his words shaking, "but I always hoped…"

"Me too," she told him. "But Geoff is gone now. We're… we're the last two of our family. Us… and your son. My nephew."

Lys looked up, his face stricken. "Allid… I fear what I've turned him into."

"He's certainly not the same giggling baby whose diapers I changed," Adel admitted. "But he's young. He can change. Trust me."

Lys twitched his head. "Everything I've done, Adel… it was all for him. I wanted to give him everything Father had always failed to give us."

The words were like needles down Adeline's spine. "Arthur Dennan," she said. That was why she had done this to him–and to herself–after all. "Were you being honest?"

"I was," he admitted, "even if my reasons were mere excuses."

"Then why?"

"Because Dennan did just what our father did. He sold his family out for mere hints of prestige… and I led him to do it."

"Lys…"

"Challenge him," Lysander said, almost pleading. "I can't change what I did–so you need to."

"Why?' Adeline asked. She knew it was a lot, maybe too much, to put on her brother in this rare moment of vulnerability–but it was all too likely she'd never get a chance to see the real Lys again. She had to. "Why did you do all of this? Why keep undermining the King, why keep fighting me and mine on everything?"

"Because I have to," Lys said. His voice was weak, but it was becoming stronger by the second. "The systems don't work, Adel. Our father proved that. I need to change things–and the only way I can do that is by being in charge. No matter what it takes. No matter who tries to stop me." He swallowed, and more tears fell. "Even if it's you, Adel."

"Oh, Lys…" Adeline said, oceans of pain filling the words. She pictured her brother, her actual brother, fleeing Arsilet fifteen years before, taking little besides his wife, his infant son and what wealth he could take before the Crown seized it, running from the deeds of Alisaunder Gerrot. She saw him trying to change things in Elliven–and being changed in return, the tarnish he had tried to clean from the High Court rubbing off on him, staining him until the original man was all but forgotten…

"I never wanted power, Lys. Neither did Sir Toren, or Lord Merrick, or Lady Tillibel, or any of the others you've declared to be your opponents."

"These lies you're all insisting on… using as excuses…"

"They're not lies, Lysander. The coven is real. The hags are real."

Lys shook his head, stubborn refusal meeting helpless insistence. Finally, he looked up, and his tear-stained eyes were those of Lord Lysander Gerrot, once again.

"Prove it," he told her.

"Prove it?"

"I mean it." he swallowed, the motion thick, and Adeline saw a feeble flicker of compassion in his eyes. "I don't believe you, Adeline–I can't. No without proof. But show me evidence. Prove it, and I'll stand with you."

"And Dennan?"

"He knows nothing of my intentions," Lysander reassured her. "You can trust me on that. Remove him, and Elliven can only benefit from it."

Adeline stood straight again, and she couldn't help a final look at the man that had once been her brother, a noble man by every definition, and couldn't help but feel sorry for what the reins of power had turned him into.

Without a word, she turned and left the broken replica of her brother behind.

It was time to get to work.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.