“You’re writing to my father?” he asked.
“Did I not mention that he has been a faithful servant?” Dacre countered. “Don’t worry. Your family is fine. Your father knows you’re safe. He’s proud of you, in fact.”
Roman didn’t know what to make of that statement. It seemed to glance off him, as if he was enclosed in steel.
“What message do you want to send to my father, sir?”
Dacre continued:
I’m writing to remind you of our agreement. I’m still awaiting the next shipment you promised me, and, as the railroad has faced some difficulties lately, I wonder if we can devise an alternative for the deliveries to be made. I know you were previously concerned with Enva’s forces intercepting, but the worst of your worries should be
They were interrupted by a soldier, the same captain Roman had seen earlier that day. He abruptly entered the house through the front door. A waft of cool evening air swirled around him as he paused on the parlor threshold.
“Forgive my interruption, Commander,” the captain said, bowing his head. As he did so, an iron key slipped from beneath his collar, hanging on a chain. Roman stared at it, realizing it was one of the five keys Dacre had mentioned. “But I’ve urgent requests that need your immediate attention.”
Dacre sighed but raised his hand. “What do you want, Captain Landis?”
“The first concerns the hounds. They haven’t been fed in weeks, and they’re hungry. They mauled two different handlers this afternoon, and their constant baying is upsetting the workers. Forward progress, as a result, has been slower than we need.”
Roman’s fingers slid from the typewriter. His gaze inevitably went to the parlor’s wardrobe door, as if the hounds might burst through it at any moment. But all imaginings of Dacre’s deadly pets dissolved when Roman saw what was resting on the bloodstained floor.
A folded piece of paper.
“Do I have your permission to set the hounds free?” Captain Landis continued. “They can roam tonight and feed.”
“No,” Dacre replied. “My messengers are delivering time-sensitive missives, and I cannot have my hounds interfering with their routes.”
“Then what is to be done, my lord?”
Roman forced his gaze away from the paper on the floor. But his blood had gone cold. He could hardly hear the captain and Dacre over the roar of his pulse.
Elizabeth’s letter was lying before the door to the underworld, in plain sight of Dacre. Just four paces away from where Roman sat, frozen at the table.
If he sees it … Roman’s thoughts spun. If he reads her words …
It would be over. This strange correspondence would end, and there was no telling how far Dacre would go to ensure it never happened again.
Roman stood from the table, pretending like he was stretching. Dacre’s attention fixated on him, an irritated line in his brow, but he had more important things on his mind. The god looked to the captain and said, “Take the weakest of the workers and feed them to the hounds for now. That’ll hold them over.”
Those words should have chilled Roman, but his bones already felt coated in ice. He ambled to the wall, pretending to study the hanging portraits.
“I’ll personally see it done, Commander. As for the next matter … it has to do with the sniper you healed earlier today.”
“Yes, what of him?”
“He’s already woken. And his mind…”
Roman could sense Landis glancing at him. He acted like he hadn’t heard the captain’s comment, running his fingers along the portrait frames, catching up the dust. He noticed how white his knuckles were. The blue tinge of his nails.
“He’s not ready, then,” Dacre drawled.
“No, Commander. He’s currently trying to harm himself.”
“Then restrain him!”
“My lord, most of your forces are above, preparing for the assault. The others are kept busy overseeing the workers. I think if you could descend and put him back into a deep sleep…”
A loud screech of a chair sliding across the floor. The captain left his sentence hanging as Dacre stood, and Roman used that moment to approach the wardrobe, quickly covering Elizabeth’s letter with his boot. He drew it back with him a step, glancing down to make sure it was completely hidden. Only a corner of it shone, stark against the dirty floor. Carefully, he adjusted his stance.
“Roman?”
“Sir?” Roman glanced up to meet Dacre’s heavy stare.
“I’m needed elsewhere at the moment, but we’ll resume this when I return.”