Page 51 of The Study of Poisons
“Yes. You are right. She’s an asset to our team.”
“Wow.” Valek pressed a hand to his chest in mock astonishment. Well, not really mock as itwasthe first time Valek could remember Ambrose uttering those words to him. “See? Admitting I’m right didn’t kill you. Maybe now you’ll do it more often.”
“Doubtful.” He covered his grin by draining his whiskey.
Valek studied him. He appeared more…relaxed? No. More…agreeable? Not quite. More…open? That was it.
Ambrose’s good mood didn’t last. “It doesn’t make sense for Brazell to break the law for a feed factory. Something else must be going on.”
Valek considered the reasons people resorted to criminal activity. “It’s not for money, Brazell has plenty. Power? He’s at the highest rank possible. If he’s aiming for your job, I doubt a feed factory would change your mind about your successor.”
“How do you know Brazell isn’t my successor?”
“Because I’m your successor.”
No emotion creased Ambrose’s face, but an intensity lit his golden eyes. “You’re not supposed to know that.”
And you would never have given it away that easily.Something was wrong.
“I didn’t. I guessed. And from your reaction, I guessed right. And for the record, I don’t want your job. Never did. I’ll only step in if you die of natural causes or of extreme old age. If someone assassinates you, I’ve failed my duty and will follow you to the fire world.” The C-shaped scar on his chest burned with his promise.
“And spend the rest of eternity arguing?”
“We could play poker. I’ve a killer poker face.”
Ambrose laughed and relaxed back into his seat. “Guessing about Brazell’s motives at this point is a waste of time.”
And guessing about Ambrose’s strange mood would also be a waste of time. Unless… He eyed the now empty bowl of Criollo. Everything else about their nightly meeting remained the same. Was the Criollo some type of new drug?
“True,” Valek said. “And it might be another person in his district that is spearheading the illegal activities. Brazell might not know.”
“He signed his name to the permission paper.”
“You’re the only person in Ixia who reads every single word on every single document before you sign it.” Valek held up a hand. “Not a criticism, but everyone else scans and signs and moves on to the next sheet.”
Ambrose’s huff of annoyance lacked oomph. “All right, we’ll wait until we have all the facts.” He stood and refilled their glasses. “Do you have more insight into why that southern magician is after Yelena? I’m not sure I believe she’d make two attempts on Yelena’s life just for revenge.”
He made a good point. “No, but I’m working on it.”
“Good.”
The topic turned to routine issues as they finished their drinks. By the time Valek returned to his suite, Yelena had gone to bed. She’d left a few lanterns burning. The soft yellow glow illuminated the cleared space around her end of the couch. Her books and notes were stacked on the end table. His had been pushed into a corner. Instead of annoyance, a warmth spread like the whisky had earlier. She’d carved out a space for herself not only in his living room, but in his heart.
Taking one lantern in hand, he extinguished the others. Despite the fatigue dragging at his limbs, he entered his carving room. Valek picked up the butterfly and his thoughts turned to Yelena and the master magician.
He doubted Yelena was a Sitian spy. She wouldn’t go to such lengths to end up in the dungeon and hope to be the next in line for execution when a new food taster was needed. No, there were too many variables. It was more likely that she’d overheard something or seen something between a magician and Reyad, or the old goat. Something incriminating that Yelena had no idea was important. Not the feed factory because that started after Yelena was sentenced to death.
It had to be important. The woman tried to kill her twice. Yelena’s explanation of her escape from the second attempt didn’t match what he knew of the magician’s abilities. She had plenty of time to finish the job before Valek arrived.
Would Yelena make a deal with the woman in the woods in order to save her life? Did she promise Yelena she’d stop her attacks in exchange for information about the Commander? And if she did, could Valek blame her?
* * *
Valek wokeearly to give Yelena her daily dose of White Fright and then returned to bed. He slept well into the morning—a rare indulgence. To make up for it, he headed to the training yard in the afternoon. He wore a sleeveless tunic and comfortable pants made with that same stretchy fabric that Dilana had used for his camouflage suit.
Valek watched the soldiers train and waited for a brave soul to work up their nerve. Soon enough he was challenged, and he hopped the fence. The sergeant chose a sword and the first of many sparring matches began. Fun.
In his experience, sparring was the best way to stay in shape. Push-ups and sit-ups all helped build muscle, and running built endurance, but fighting an opponent was key to success. Each person was an unknown. Each had a different skill level. And each chose the weapon. All these factors forced Valek to be adaptable. To not get stuck using predictable techniques, and to become proficient with all weapons. And, on occasion, Valek learned a new move.
