Ruthless Vows (Letters of Enchantment, #2)(99)

Helena came to a stop, intently studying her. “You certain? I can take you to the hospital now, if—”

“I’m okay.” Iris smiled, even though her face felt stiff. “Truly.”

“Well, I smoked an entire pack last night, thinking you were dead and despising myself for letting you go alone to that jamboree.” She extinguished the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “Do you know what happened?”

Iris released a deep breath. “Dacre was there. I assume it was an assassination attempt?”

“That’s what my informant told me. Fifty-three people killed, twenty more injured. Eleven still unaccounted for. The chancellor is in critical condition at the hospital. They don’t expect him to make it. Dacre, on the other hand, vanished. No one knows where he is, but a survivor said he looked completely unscathed from the blast. Not even gunfire could touch him.” Helena paused, reading Iris’s expression. “Here, sit down, kid. You look pale. Let me make you some coffee.” That was when she finally noticed the sword on Iris’s desk. “And that is King Draven’s sword. What in all the gods’ names is it doing here in my newsroom?”

“It was given to me,” Iris said. “And I need to hide it in your office. Just for a little while.”

“Hide? Iris, have you—” Helena cut herself off when they both heard footsteps, descending the stairs above. Someone was approaching the Tribune, even though it was only a quarter after six and work didn’t commence until eight.

“Please, Helena,” Iris whispered.

Helena sighed. “Fine. Quickly now, before someone sees it. I don’t want word to get around that I stole a priceless relic from the people of Oath.”

Iris took the hilt and hurried after Helena into her office. It wasn’t a large room, and they had no choice but to hide the sword beneath Helena’s desk.

“Ms. Hammond?”

Iris froze at the sound of Tobias’s voice. She turned to see him weaving around the desks, approaching the office door. He also seemed shocked to find Iris there so early, his brows rising as he came to a stop.

“Tobias,” Helena greeted him. “Something wrong?”

“I was given an urgent post.”

“For the Tribune?”

“For Iris, to be delivered here at first light,” he said, holding out an envelope.

Iris stared at it. She went cold with dread when she recognized the spider-like handwriting. But she accepted the post from Tobias. Her nail bent as she broke the seal and read a succinctly typed request:

Dear Iris E. Winnow,

I would like to invite you to my estate for tea at half past four this afternoon. There are some important matters we need to finish discussing. Please come alone. You will be safe here.

Sincerely,

Mr. Ronald M. Kitt

“What is it, Iris?” Helena’s anxious voice broke the silence.

Iris folded the letter. It hadn’t occurred to her until then, and she almost felt foolish for it. But she should have known the moment she watched Dacre take the stage at the Green Quarter. She should have realized where the god had been hiding. What door he had used to reach Oath from the inside.

“Only an invitation for tea, from my father-in-law,” Iris said.

“Do you want me to send someone with you?” Helena asked. “Perhaps Attie?”

Iris knew Attie had asked for the day off. Her meeting with the music professor had been successful, and Attie planned to practice “Alzane’s Lullaby” in her basement, again and again until she could play the notes perfectly no matter her surroundings. In the dark, in the light, standing still, constantly moving.

But even if Attie had been available, Iris wouldn’t have asked her to go to the Kitt estate. Not with so much danger lurking in the corners.

“I can drive you there if you’d like,” Tobias offered. “I’ll wait for you at the curb, and then drive you back, when you’re done.”

Iris nodded, shoulders relaxing. “I’d be very thankful for that, Tobias. And no, Helena. I should go alone. There’s no need to worry.”

Helena didn’t seem convinced. Neither did Tobias.

Please come alone. You will be safe here.

Iris felt Mr. Kitt’s—Dacre’s—letter crinkle in her fist.

No place in the city was safe anymore.



* * *



At four twenty-eight in the afternoon, Iris stared at the iron gates of the Kitt mansion. They didn’t open for the roadster, which had led Iris to presume Dacre wanted her to approach the front doors on foot.

“I’ll be waiting right here if you need me,” Tobias said, parking at the curb.

Iris nodded and slipped from the vehicle. Just as she thought, the gates creaked open when she approached them.

She walked the long driveway alone, carrying nothing but her frayed tapestry purse, and she was struck by how quiet and still the yard was. No birds flittered amongst the perfectly trimmed shrubs. No damselflies or bees glided from one flower to the next. No wind touched the trees, no sunlight flickered through the clouds. It seemed a shadow had fallen over the estate, and Iris shivered as she ascended the stairs to the front door.

Her palms were damp as she lifted her hand to ring the bell.

She never had the chance. The door opened, revealing Mr. Kitt. He looked so disheveled that she was taken aback. His black hair looked greasy, his eyes were rimmed in red, and he reeked of cigar smoke.