Darrel tried to do the math but knew that number was way beyond him. “You’re talking a lot of waste and headaches,” he said. “Any foodstuffs will spoil, and that’s not touching the nonsense we’ll encounter in every damn port we arrive late to, assuming we arrive at all. The other merchants all right with this?”

  “They will be. We need as many fighting men as possible, all loyal to us. It’s time this city learned who’s really in charge. Any friends you know, bring them on board. Plenty of men may not consider themselves sellswords, but they’ll still bleed and die for a bit of coin. I want them all.”

  “What if someone leaves anyway?” Darrel asked.

  Ulrich gave him a pleasant smile. “Then all nearby ships are to board, tie up their crew, and burn them alive. No one leaves, Darrel. No one.”

  Darrel shrugged. “You’re in charge, so I’ll spread the word. What will you do in the meantime?”

  “Why, give Madelyn Keenan my most heartfelt condolences for her loss, of course,” Ulrich said, smacking the captain on the shoulder before heading down the plank to the dock with a bounce in his step.

  They’d scoured the entire mansion top to bottom, but of course the guards found no sign of the Wraith. Madelyn had spent the night among her servants, red-eyed and unable to sleep. They all thought she was in shock, and they were partly right. But one thing weighed on her mind, and she could discuss it with no one: what to do with Alyssa Gemcroft come morning.

  When at last light shone through the windows, she bathed, dressed, and then met with Torgar outside her door. He grunted at her rough appearance.

  “You look like shit,” he said.

  “You look little better,” she snapped back. It was true too. Despite his apparent lack of care, the mercenary had been a veritable demon while ordering around the house guards, and to her shock, he’d even gutted two who dared mouth off. Together they sported dark circles under their eyes, Madelyn from tears, him from lack of sleep.

  “Sorry,” Torgar mumbled, and she could tell he was finally realizing she was the head of the household now. “He can’t be close, but we’ll keep looking, keep searching. I’ll find out how he got in, how he killed Laurie. That’s a promise.”

  The certainty gave her a shiver, and she hid it with a halfhearted sob.

  “Forgive me,” she said. “I have much to do.”

  “Like what?”

  Madelyn took a deep breath. “Why, I must inform our guests of Laurie’s passing.”

  She started walking down the hallway, and Torgar joined her in step. He reached for her elbow to stop her but pulled back at the last moment.

  “Sorry for the boldness, Madelyn, but you should be resting. Alyssa’s already aware of what happened, I assure you. The whole damn city probably knows by now.”

  Her glare made him take a step back.

  “Hold your tongue,” she said. “I will do as I please. Do you understand me?”

  Absently he nodded, and he looked to her as if seeing her for the first time. Scowling, she continued onward. She felt herself balancing on a knife’s edge, and her outburst was a dangerous misstep. If she didn’t play the grieving widow just right, people might start asking questions, might come to certain realizations that would end with her head on a pike or with her in chains before the other leaders of the Trifect. Given the respect Laurie commanded from their house guards, even they might turn on her if they knew the truth.

  “Forgive me,” Madelyn said, trying to soothe things over. “I’m still not comfortable with the thought of replacing Laurie, especially when it comes to dealing with other members of the Trifect.”

  “Of course,” Torgar said, but he didn’t sound too understanding. Forcing him out of her mind, she continued to Alyssa’s room. She felt her anger rise as she pushed open the door. It was these three who had caused everything, who had forced her to do such… terrible things to her husband. Inside, she saw Alyssa already awake. She sat on the edge of her bed, with the other female servant of hers beside her. Blankets covered her up to her neck, and immediately Madelyn could tell she was with fever by the pale color of her skin.

  “Madelyn,” Alyssa said, standing at her entrance. “I heard and… please, I’m so sorry. Laurie was a great man.”

  Madelyn nodded, unsure of what to say to that. Had her husband been a great man? Perhaps once. But it wasn’t a great man she’d stabbed and torn to pieces. That was a shell, a disgrace to the strength she’d married. As she paused, she noticed Haern leaning against a wall, his arm and shoulder bandaged. It was him, she thought. He was the criminal, the killer. More than anyone, he was to blame for the Wraith’s ire against her family. Did his symbol in Taras’s room not prove that?

  “Lord Ingram will still be looking for you,” she told him.

  “Let him,” said Haern.

  The casual disrespect annoyed her. More than anything, she wanted to remove all three from the premises, but she had to think further ahead than that. She had to keep playing the role of grieving widow, and that meant respecting the dead.

  “I only let you stay because it was my husband’s last command,” she said. “He sought to protect you, and so I shall honor that, no matter how much it might sicken me. Angelport is a dangerous place, but at least here you’ll be safe.”

  “Safe?” said Alyssa.

  Her face was a calm façade, but Madelyn knew her mind was whirring behind it, trying to understand. It wouldn’t take her long. The Trifect could not be seen killing one another. It was a law all three houses had followed for centuries. But just because they couldn’t be seen killing each other didn’t mean more subtle methods might be employed. Subtle methods Madelyn hoped she might use, and soon.

  “Yes, safe. All three of you should be safe here.”

  “After last night, forgive me for wondering,” said Haern. “Besides, we must fetch a healer for Zusa.”

  Madelyn wanted to strangle him for such a comment, but she let it slide over her.

  “I will send for someone,” she said. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I must be going.”

  “And I as well,” said Alyssa. “I have plenty of coin, and I’m sure I can find someone who will not betray—”

  “No,” Madelyn said, her voice firm. Behind her, Torgar reached for his sword, as if he could read her mind. “No, you must stay. I will not have you endanger yourself out in the streets, not when Ingram is looking for any way to strike at us. All three of you must stay here. The Wraith will not get to you, I promise.”

  “Is that so?” Alyssa asked. “How kind of you.”

  “Torgar, assign a guard to watch over them,” she said, her orders as much for Alyssa as the mercenary. “I’d hate for anything to happen.”

  “May I still wander the mansion?” Alyssa asked, but her words were dripping with false sympathy.

  Madelyn smiled, letting the tiniest bit of her victory seep into her voice. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

  She shut the door, and Torgar followed her as she left.

  “They’re dangerous,” he said, glancing back.

  “Alyssa is but a child, and the other two are wounded.”

  “Wounded animals tend to be the most dangerous.”

  She whirled on him. “Then I expect your men to do their job,” she said. “They don’t leave. Gods know why I don’t just cut off their heads and be done with all three.”

  Torgar stepped closer, and he lowered his voice. “So much for honoring your husband’s final wishes,” he said.

  Dangerous ground, Madelyn realized, but she could not do it. Not when it came to that harlot, Alyssa.

  “He’s dead, and I’m in charge,” she said softly. “And Alyssa’s a disease rotting away at the Trifect’s core. They don’t leave that room until tonight, for any reason. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Perfectly clear,” said Torgar. He saluted her, his motions stiff and lacking any fluidity. “And may I ask just how long they will not be leaving that room?”

  “The only way they leave that room are as corpses,” she said. “And I expect you to make that happen come tonight.”

  A guard came from the front door, and he paused while waiting for acknowledgment.

  “What?” asked Torgar, showing no reaction to Madelyn’s orders.

  “A man at the gate wishes to speak with you,” he said.

  “Go,” said Madelyn. “And remember, I want a guard in there at all times.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Torgar said, suddenly grinning at her. It was so wolfish, so disgusting, she shivered. “Trust me, I got all this under control. What about the various stuffed shirts wishing to give their sympathy? I’ve got them corralled up at the front.”

  “Let them wait,” she said. “I have no time for their false sorrow.”

  Glad to be away from the mercenary, Madelyn hurried to Taras’s old room to once more join her servants. More than anything, she wanted to hold Tori in her arms, shut her eyes, and cry away the last memories of her husband, until nothing remained inside her but a faded shadow.

  The entire estate looked to be on lockdown when Ulrich arrived at the front gate.

  “Let me through,” he said to one of the five guards who stood watch on the other side.

  “No one enters.”

  “I am Ulrich Blackwater, and I am no commoner for you to turn away. Send for someone I may speak with if you insist I remain outside.”

  The guard sent someone off running, and a few minutes later they returned with a giant sellsword in tow.

  “Ulrich, you bastard, what are you here for?” asked Torgar.

  “I heard the grim news,” Ulrich said. “I’ve come to offer my condolences.”

  Torgar turned and spat. “How long did I work for you?”

  “Three years, if I remember. It was so long ago…”

  “Aye, three years. How many times, in those three years I knew you, do you think I ever saw you feel sorry for anyone but yourself? You were more likely to cry over your spilled ale than a dead child lying at your feet.”

  Ulrich clenched his teeth, but he kept his face calm. “I’ll forgive such rudeness if you let me in. It would be impolite of me to deny respect to such a man as Laurie.”

  Despite the rolling of his eyes, Torgar grumbled an order to the guards. They unlatched the gate and swung it open, slamming it shut behind Ulrich after he entered.

  “Keep it short and sweet,” said Torgar. “As you can see, we’re not in the mood for guests.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Ulrich said, glancing at the guards as Torgar escorted him toward the front door. Every section of the wall was guarded by mercenaries, many who had, until recently, been in his employ. The front door had a man on each side, standing with their swords drawn. Even when he looked to the windows, he swore he saw men with crossbows. No wonder Lord Ingram had pulled the city guard away. The losses they’d suffer just trying to get past the gates…

  “Fearing an invasion?” he asked, pretending not to know the reason for the security. He’d told Darrel that the Keenans were rounding up every mercenary they could find, but actually seeing it in person was another thing entirely. The place was crawling with them.

  “Something like that. Between Lord Ingram and the Wraith, we’re needing as much as we can get.”

  They went inside, and Ulrich found himself on the receiving end of several glares from petty nobles gathered in the front parlor. In return, he bowed low.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, giving them a mocking grin.

  “You have no right to be here,” said one, a middle-aged man with a graying beard. “Wretches like you are why the Wraith torments us so.”

  “Is that so?” Ulrich asked. “I was not aware you had spoken with the elusive butcher. Please, tell me, what did he have to say about me?”

  “Shut up,” Torgar said, and it seemed he spoke to both. “Madelyn’s in Taras’s old room. Follow me.”

  The sellsword led the way, his broad shoulders bumping into the finely dressed nobles who didn’t move in time. Ulrich followed in his wake, and he winked at the bearded man, who looked ready to draw a sword if he had one. It only amused him further.

  They walked down the hall, took a few turns, then stopped before an open door. Inside, he saw Madelyn sitting on a bed, dressed in a simple black outfit, laced tight. Leave it to her to find a way to make mourning look sexy, thought Ulrich. She held a baby in her arms—Taras’s kid, if he remembered correctly. All around her, doting servants waited for the slightest request. Ulrich saw lines in her rouge from tears, as well as her pale complexion, and was surprised. He’d expected an icy woman like her to be taking things better.

  “Milady,” Ulrich said, offering a sweeping bow. “It pains me to see you in mourning yet again. Surely the gods are cruel to let such a fate befall you.”

  “Some say there is love in cruelty,” Madelyn said, beckoning for him to enter. “Do you think so?”

  “Cruel men can make love,” Ulrich said. “I’m not so sure about the other way around.”

  Torgar gave a half-wave to Madelyn before stepping out. “Let me know when you’re ready for him to leave,” he said.

  Ulrich stood before her, letting a silence stretch over them as he thought of what to say.

  “How is your health?” he asked, though he could plainly see she looked ill.

  “I will be better,” she said. “Though you’re not one known for compassion. Is there some business with my husband you’d like to discuss?”

  Ulrich feigned insult. “Of course not. Laurie was a rival, not an enemy. I can still mourn his loss, can I not?”

  She nodded, and Ulrich took no offense from the noncommittal response. She was right, of course. He was hardly known for his compassion, and his ego wasn’t large enough to take offense from the truth. As for his business, well… he did have one issue to discuss, other than scouting out the mansion to see its defenses and confirm the mass hiring of mercenaries.

  “We’re to meet with Ingram and the elves in a few hours,” he said, sitting beside her and gently patting her hand. Her skin felt clammy, cold. “I’ll make sure they know the reason for your absence.”

  “Absence?” She yanked her hand away and rubbed it as if she’d been burned.

  “Why, I merely thought…”

  “No,” Madelyn said, shaking her head. “Delay the meeting. How could anyone expect me to be there today?”

  “Delay isn’t an option,” Ulrich said, making sure the slightest hint of condescension slipped into his voice. “The city is already full of unrest because of the elves’ visit. If you must, have Alyssa speak for the Trifect.”

  “No!”

  Ulrich was taken aback by the ferocity of her outburst. He chuckled, unsure of how else to react.

  “Very well. Laurie made the Trifect’s position clear, so I’m sure we’ll do fine without anyone—”

  “I will be there,” Madelyn said. “I will not have my house absent. Nothing so important happens in Angelport without our approval.”

  Only the million things that pass underneath your nose every day, thought Ulrich.

  “You are a brave woman,” he said instead. He let the silence linger for a moment, then out of pure spite, brought the conversation back to Laurie’s death. “What provokes this Wraith?” he asked. “What did Laurie ever do to earn his wrath?”

  “He was weak,” Madelyn said, rocking the sleeping babe in her arms. “But I won’t be. Good day, Ulrich. I will see you at Ingram’s mansion.”

  Ulrich stood, and he bowed again. Before leaving, he had one last thing to ask. “Forgive the intrusion, but by chance is the lovely Zusa Gemcroft here? We were in the midst of a fine conversation before we were interrupted.”

  Madelyn’s face hardened into stone, and Ulrich marked the bizarre reaction.

  “Zusa left with her husband for Veldaren,” she said.

  “A shame,” Ulrich said, about his only honest reaction in their entire conversation. “Might she return to Angelport soon, perhaps when things have settled?”

  “I doubt it. Good-bye, Ulrich.”

  “May you endure,” Ulrich said in return. He stepped out and found Torgar waiting not far down the hall, a wineskin in hand.

  “Were you listening in on private conversation?” he asked.

  “Course not,” said Torgar. “Don’t expect much interesting conversation between her crying and your ass-kissing.”

  Ulrich pulled the door shut behind him. “I was told you’d lead me to Zusa’s room. She’s leaving for Veldaren soon, and I wish to say my farewells.”

  The sellsword lifted an eyebrow. “That so?”

  “It is.”

  Torgar shrugged. “Whatever.”

  He turned toward the back of the mansion, and Ulrich’s heart began to race as he followed. Such a simple piece of intrigue, for sure. Did the newlyweds have a falling out with Madelyn? Were they injured? And what might happen if Torgar realized he’d been duped? Glancing about, he had a sudden, more dire thought. What would happen if Torgar decided to draw that giant sword of his and ram it through Ulrich’s chest? Given their guards and wealth, the Keenan mansion might as well be a foreign nation. His brother might try for revenge, at least, but that’d be little comfort if he was deep in a grave…

  Near the servants’ quarters, they stopped before a door, and Torgar gestured for him to enter.

  “It ain’t locked,” he said. “I broke it.”

  Another strange oddity. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was empty, the bedsheets ruffled and stained with blood.

  Torgar stepped in, saw the same, and then drew his sword. “Fuck!”

  It was then Ulrich saw the dead guard slumped in the corner to his right, his skin a pale white and his head at an awkward angle. Still clipped to his belt was an empty scabbard.

  Suddenly Ulrich realized it wasn’t just an oddity anymore.

  “Time to go,” Torgar said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him out of the room. Normally Ulrich would have taken offense, but he knew a precarious situation when he saw one.

  “Of course,” he said. “I should prepare for the meeting, anyway.”