She doesn’t know. She just hates me.
She wondered what would happen if she told Louisa the truth. Your husband brought me to England to kill me. He raised me so that when I was old enough your son could slit my throat. Louisa thought Simon was a respectable gentleman who oversaw his father’s trade company. She didn’t know anything about Lions or ancient worlds.
‘The only good thing you ever did was leave,’ said Louisa coldly. ‘But you were too selfish to stay away.’
‘Yes, Mrs Ballard,’ said Violet, keeping her eyes on the floor, while her nails bit into her palms.
Inside her room, she closed her door and pressed her back to it. This was just life, she told herself. Just life. She looked around at the room, alone among all these objects that she’d thought meant she belonged.
As soon as the house was dark and quiet, she pushed back her bedding, quickly donned her shirt and trousers, and padded on socked toes into the hall.
Her father’s office was at the end on the left. She made straight for it. If there were papers, contracts, ledgers, anything that might help the Stewards find Marcus, they would be in that room.
She had snuck out at night before. She knew to avoid the creaking third floorboard and to keep to the far wall so her shadow wouldn’t be seen below the door. She moved swiftly and before long was outside the office door, putting her hand on the doorknob.
It was locked.
A lock wouldn’t usually have stopped her. She could break a lock. She could break the door. But if she did that, there would be no more pretending. Her father would know right away what she had done. And what if the information she was looking for wasn’t in the office? She couldn’t give herself away before she learned where to find Marcus.
She was grudgingly turning from the door to filch the housekeeper’s set of keys, when she heard a low, male laugh from the opposite end of the hall.
She froze. It was coming from Tom’s room. He was in there with someone.
With who? Tom doesn’t have visitors this late at night …
She approached silently, not wanting to be discovered. The door was ajar. There was a crack of light visible, and she could glimpse a sliver of the bedroom interior. She held her breath and peered through the crack of the door.
A handful of lit candles and the flickering embers beneath the mantelpiece provided the light. Tom sat in the armchair by the fire, and there was another boy relaxed on the Axminster rug at Tom’s feet, his head resting on Tom’s thigh.
Devon. Violet recognised him at once, one of Tom’s friends, whom she disliked. Devon was the clerk of ivory merchant Robert Drake, and sometimes worked as a runner for Simon. A pale, unpleasant boy, he had the look of ivory that had faded, an old lady’s dusty cameo brooch, all one colour. Lank white hair hung down over his forehead. He usually wore a cap, but tonight he’d taken it off, revealing a grimy bandana that held his hair in place. His white eyelashes were too long.
Violet stared at Devon’s sallow complexion, his eyes that were only one shade darker than translucent water. Devon was often lingering around on Simon’s business, a colourless parasite. It was how Tom had met him. He attached himself to people as he’d attached himself to Tom, and now he was talking in that unpleasant voice.
‘—I wouldn’t tell anyone that she’s back. Simon likes his Lions loyal. If he thinks for a moment that your family can’t be trusted—’
‘Violet’s not a liability. She’s my sister. Simon will see that she’s an asset. She saved me on that ship.’
‘If you’re wrong again, James will fit you with a collar and a little bell.’
A snort. ‘I’m not worried about James.’
‘You should be. He’s the golden boy. The only Reborn Simon has in his pseudo-court. More than a Reborn. He was the Dark King’s favourite, and now he’s following Simon’s orders … you think that doesn’t give Simon a thrill?’
‘You’ve got a head full of intrigue,’ said Tom, sounding amused. ‘You think there’s a spy behind every curtain and a dagger in every sleeve.’
Devon turned, kneeling up between Tom’s legs and facing Tom directly. ‘And you’re a Lion; you think everyone is loyal. I have something you can use for leverage. James is coming to see Robert at dawn. Alone. And he’s never alone. Simon must want something kept utterly secret, to send James out by himself. We can find out what it is.’
‘If Simon wants it kept secret, it ought to be kept secret,’ Tom said.