For the Duke, a fitful week passed.
Parliament was not forthcoming in offering any legal remedy to Lindell’s attack. Talia was utterly unsurprised. Still, it was a particular torture to meet with an official solicitor of Parliament, see him stammer through an apology both official and “personal,” and then essentially say that the Bishop Inquisitor of Cavaline was, absent literal murder, beyond the legal purview of Parliamentary courts.
“He will be censured in the most grave terms during our next session,” the solicitor intoned. Talia nodded politely. She silently wished she were someone else; someone who could tell this man exactly where he could stick his censure.
The rest of the business of the House of Fallmire proceeded, well, normally. As normal as could be expected given the circumstances.
The manor house was a total loss. Lindell had apparently made preparation for razing the property, fully intending to leave it a pile of ashes from the start. Little could be recovered from the site; a few twisted pieces of metal Talia recognized as her dueling pistols. Beyond that, ash.
Work would begin on raising a new manor in a few weeks time. By then, Talia had planned to be fully quit of her noble title, her revenge fully consummated, with nothing left for her in this miserable country.
Well, there was nothing for it but to move forward—
A knock at the door.
“You may enter.” Talia fiddled with the papers on her desk, itself a decent piece of furniture scrounged up by the proprietors of the inn she had made the semi-permanent home of House Fallmire. Honestly, were she staying in this country longer, she would consider buying the desk outright from them.
Richmond stepped into the room, bowing slightly to his Duke. He really didn’t need to do that, especially when the two of them were alone. Talia didn’t have the heart to say so to him, though, as the man fell into the role of manservant so cleanly. She was caught by the memory of sea-spray and his steady aim, the sun descending into a burnished golden sea.
She turned from the memory, so vivid. It held its own pain. “Yes, my friend?”
Richmond coughed, and for the first time since they entered this country, Talia saw him struggle for his words.
She fixed him with a stare, curious.
Finally, Richmond said, “May I speak freely, my Duke?”
“When could you not?” And at his blink, she added, “Of course.”
“It’s been a week. When are we to rescue your wife?”
And Talia’s heart ground to a halt.
“Excuse me? I—”
“You were planning on rescuing her?” Richmond’s eyes were wilder now, more the pirate than the servant of a noble House.
“I wasn’t.” Talia was now the one struggling for words; at least, words in any coherent order. “She was … Lindell had outmaneuvered us and … I mean,” and she was borne down by a mutinous stare from Richmond. She felt small, then, when she finished, “She’s gone.”
“My Duke. Do not misunderstand my words. Why would you leave the love of your heart to suffer at the hands of the cruelest enemy we know?”
“The—” Talia spluttered and struggled to regain her composure. Love of your heart. “No one has my heart. You know this, Richmond!”
“I knew it, once.” His voice was quieter now, but no less impassioned. “I knew Isabel nearly as well as you, and though I cannot know the pain of her betrayal weighing in your chest—my Duke. Lucia is not her. She deserves that much dignity from you, at least!”
Talia was silent for a long moment as Richmond’s words echoed within her. She wanted to say, Of course not. I know that. Lucia is a thousand-fold more kind, more gracious, more …
But she could not bring herself to speak the truth. A shiver passed through her. She felt like Ida once more. Small.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Lindell has outplayed us. If I go after her, I risk giving up everything I’ve worked so hard for. That’s why Lindell took her in the first place. If he couldn’t have me, he’d take the next best thing.”
“The next best thing is right.” Richmond sighed. “You defended her once with your life. And that even before you knew she was more than … well, than a servant summoned to do your bidding in this world. What changed?”
“Nothing. And … everything.” She closed her eyes. Even if she were to bring Lucia back from the Snake, well … hadn’t the demon been right? Once her contract had finished, she would be gone.
The possibilities of knowing Lucia’s true name danced before her eyes, tantalizing. But Talia was not one to jeopardize the demon by asking. Nothing the Duke could ask of her would make her more vulnerable. And with what she was likely suffering at the hands of Lindell? No, she could never ask for that.
Talia’s mind caught on something, then reversed its track.
Once her contract was finished.
There was something there, the inkling of an idea forming in Talia’s mind. A contract … one not set in stone, but on plain paper. One that could, perhaps, be changed.
And, her true name …
She remembered, also, a scrap of summoning theory, written in the book she had stolen from the place she had once called home. On the nature of mortal souls. The book had been destroyed in the fire, but her memory served well enough.
Slowly, the darkness around her lifted but a little, and she could see the faintest glimmer of light marking the road ahead. She could not see its end, but the contract—that was the signpost leading forward. The contract. It could reach even beyond …
Damn it, had she already made her decision? She was yet spinning out potential details of such a plan, weighing possibilities, considering different angles. Her cheek was resting on her fingers, a sign that her mind had momentarily departed. Shaking her head, she returned to the present and turned back toward her manservant.
Richmond seemed to recognize the change in her. His eyes had softened into something more gentle, and she was reminded of when she first met him. He, the veteran of the Commonwealth Navy, then without any respect to stand upon but the shoddy planks of a pirate craft. Her, the wide-eyed girl still reeling from the first time she took another life.
Richmond gave a short bow. “I apologize, my Duke. But you know that we cannot leave Lucia to suffer at Lindell’s hands. Not after all she has done for you … for us. Whether you decide to open your heart to her—oh, I’ve seen your eyes when she’s present, my Duke. I see that smile you once reserved for Isabel. But that is your decision.”
He came forward and put his hand on Talia’s shoulder. A firmer, truer grip she could not find in all the lands west of Calamity.
“Wrest her from Lindell’s grasp, my Duke. Revenge be damned, it’s the right thing to do.”