“Nothing. Just a bit knackered,” was the mumbled response, only half-coherent. Tristan’s voice was rasping and low, and the look of thorough misery on his face was enough to give Callum a second-hand migraine.
“Sauced, too, by the looks of it.” Normally Tristan was better about holding his alcohol; it was one of the primary reasons Callum liked him. There was much to be said about a man who habitually remained upright.
“Absolutely fucking bladdered,” confirmed Tristan, pivoting slowly to face Callum and holding his hand to his head. “I’d do something about it, only the prospect of managing anything at all sounds positively exhausting.”
Understandable. Most people struggled with a hangover, and medeians even more so. Alcohol was a poison, after all, and magic was easily corrupted.
“Here,” Callum said, beckoning Tristan towards him and pressing his thumb to the furrow between his brows. “Better?”
It didn’t take much to alleviate a headache. Even less to make the headache feel as if it had been alleviated.
“Much.” Tristan gave Callum a fleeting look of gratitude. “Did you enjoy the opulent shores of Greece, Your Highness?”
“You were invited, as you may recall.”
“Yes, and I should have gone, clearly.”
“Well,” Callum said, “next time. In any case, there’s something very interesting I thought you ought to know.”
“If it’s about the Forum, I received a visit as well. From a rather unpleasant sort of bloke, if I do say so myself.”
“Actually, no,” said Callum. “Or not entirely, anyway.” He gestured outside. “Fancy a walk? Fresh air might do you some good.”
The gardens, which accommodated roses of all varieties, were always a tolerable temperature, despite the presence of snow. Inside the house, a clatter indicated Nico had returned along with Reina, and, presumably, Libby.
“I suppose now we’ll have to hear endlessly about Rhodes’ beloved inamorato,” sighed Callum.
To his surprise, Tristan became rapidly uncomfortable, going blank. “I suppose,” he mumbled, and Callum frowned. It wasn’t the discomfort that eluded him, but the obvious deflection; Tristan was magically keeping him out, preventing himself from being interpreted. The others did it often, sending up intangible shields whenever Callum approached, but never Tristan, who would have considered it a waste of effort.
Odd.
“Anyway,” Callum said, “this Society has an interesting little mechanism. The ‘elimination,’ as they call it? Is perhaps too true a term.”
It had not been very difficult to find the truth at the core of the Forum recruiter’s intentions. It seemed that although the contents of the Society’s collection remained a secret, its true nature was not.
“One candidate,” Callum said, leaning closer, “must die.”
Immediately he anticipated Tristan’s posture to stiffen, or his dark gaze to narrow, as it usually did. Perhaps Tristan would even confirm that he’d had suspicions, which he nearly always had. He was a man so beloved of his own misanthropy that he would surely express less horror at knowing the truth than he would a lack of surprise at uncovering it.
“That’s madness,” said Tristan, without any particular feeling.
Callum’s jaw tightened, irritated.
So Tristan already knew, then.
“You didn’t tell me,” Callum observed aloud, and Tristan glanced up, grimacing.
“I only just found out, and I’d forgotten for a moment.”
“You’d forgotten?”
“Well, I—” Tristan fumbled, his wall of neutrality momentarily slipping. “I told you, it was… a strange night. I haven’t quite finished processing.”
If this version of Tristan was anything, ‘unfinished’ was certainly the right word.
“Care to postulate aloud?” prompted Callum. “After all, you’ve ostensibly become aware that one of us will have to be murdered.” He bristled with irritation at not being the one to reveal that trivial little tidbit of information. “Who told you? No, don’t answer,” he grumbled as an afterthought. “It was Parisa, wasn’t it? You were with Parisa last night.”
Tristan looked moderately relieved. “I… yes, I was, but—”
“How did she know?”
“She didn’t say.”
“You didn’t ask?” Unfathomable. Under any circumstances Tristan would have made demands.