lucian sumner
"The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others."
Lucian stepped out of his carriage and immediately wrinkled his nose. He found himself wondering, exactly, how he'd been reduced to a state such as
this.
The day had
started innocuously enough. He'd risen a little before dawn to attend to household affairs. He had double checked the weekly ledgers against the steward's calculations and found it short by three copper bits. After an extensive conversation about the dangers of carelessness and rounding up, Lucian had gone to wake his Lady Nerys. Doing so had always been an endeavour. She tended to err on the side of wrathful when waking up, and would sleep until noon if left to her own devices.
It always battered at his inner defences whenever she scowled sleepily at him, but in this he'd managed to remain firm. He couldn't have others accusing his lady of laziness, after all, and she had magic lessons after breakfast. He knew how sorely she needed to attend those, though he'd rather cut out his own tongue than tell her so.
At breakfast, when he'd told her gently that he would not be sitting in on her lessons, she'd blinked at him and, for a moment, looked almost affronted.
"Where are you going?" She'd asked sullenly. To his ears, it had sounded like,
What could possibly be more important to you than me? He'd hid a smile.
"Simple errands, my lady," he'd replied. "It is tedious business. Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
She had seemed unconvinced, but returned to her breakfast without further protest. Lucian had watched her; sitting beneath a stream of the pale, morning light, she looked happy. Innocent. Unburdened by the knowledge that, only two night ago, Lucian had executed four lower servants for conspiring to enter her rooms in the night and murder her in her sleep.
Lucian planned to keep it that way.
His 'simple errand' had brought him to Gatehouse prison, home to derelicts and reprobates from all walks of life. Except for, perhaps, the higher walks, but that was only to be expected.
His lady had once told him, with the air of someone trying and failing to sound worldly and wise, 'One man's rubbish may be another man's treasure.' At the time, he had simply quirked a brow and told her that if she had time to parrot such trite nonsense, then perhaps she could instead find treasure in attending her etiquette lessons.
Now, he wondered if there wasn't at least some merit in that pedestrian aphorism. Every man and woman who served the Eckharts had been personally vetted by Lucian himself. He'd always made his choices among those who had good pedigrees, were relatively well educated, and preferably had a history of having served successfully in other households.
Lucian thought of the four servants he had executed; in his mind he turned them over and over in his hands, examining them from every angle. Even now, he maintained his initial assessments of them—hard-working, dedicated, and not unintelligent. Loyal hadn't been on their list of virtues, but there was a reason why servants of the Eckhart household were paid more than everyone else. Loyalty could be bought.
Unfortunately, so could disloyalty. And everyone had a price.
It was time to attempt a different tack.
After another moment of deliberation, Lucian stepped into the prison. Immediately, the fetid stink of human waste intensified. Lucian wondered if this was due to the prison staff being unequipped to handle the overflowing population, or if it was simply part of the punishment.
Lucian flicked his gaze to the nearest guard. In a bored, lofty manner, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a writ, bearing the Eckhart family crest. "I believe you're expecting me," he said, with an arched brow.
The seal alone would have guaranteed him entry, but his reputation ensured that no one would ask inane questions.
In short order, he was brought to a more secluded corridor, lined by cells on either side. Save for a pair of guards that stood by the doors at each end of the walkway, Lucian was quite alone.
Lucian began to walk, stepping slowly and deliberately down the corridor. His eyes swept over each cell, examining the prisoner inside; within seconds he picked them apart and cast them aside, finding them wanting. Lucian wasn't sure what he was looking for, but had some vague hope that he'd know it when he saw it. Even with his lady's little piece of wisdom in mind, he expected very little from this endeavour. In fact, the further he went, the more he was sure he wasting his time. What could he expect to find in such a filthy, wretched place?
Still, Lucian never did things by half. It simply wasn't in his nature. But as he walked, his mind began to skim. The prison's bleak surroundings began to blur together in a haze of dank, stale water, and crumbling stone and watery, grey light and gold—
Lucian stopped.
Slowly, he turned on his heel and took one step back, peering into the cell that was second to last from the door that awaited the executioner's axe.
It defied all reason. Lucian could barely even recognize that beneath all that dirt and grime was a human being. But something niggled at his mind and, despite all his attempts, refused to be put to rest.
Lucian stepped closer, just beyond arms length of the bars, and cocked his head. There had been that flash of gold that caught in the light, so out of place that—
Something clicked in his mind. Lucian narrowed his eyes.
Ah. Lady Vevina's personal guard.
Well, formerly. Lucian assumed he'd been dismissed from his duties when he'd brutally murdered his own mistress.
Lucian felt a curl of disgust at the thought, musing with lazy irony that some people had no pride in their work. If Lucian remembered correctly, this creature had served his lady since he'd been a boy. And then, a decade later, he'd murdered her—in cold blood and seemingly without any provocation.
Somewhere in his mind, he heard a ticking, soft and incessant.
Lucian examined the facts. When she was alive, Lady Vevina had been a true magical prodigy—when she was fifteen, she had been a match for many at least three times her age. It was a pity that she had belonged to a lesser noble family who had little social influence.
However, society had whispered, when they spoke of her burgeoning power.
However.
The Beringers didn't run in much of the same social circles as the Eckharts did, but Lucian had recalled meeting Lady Vevina, once. More to the point, he remembered meeting her guard.
It had been at the Winter Ball, hosted by Lord and Lady Fairfax. His Lady Nerys had wanted to be introduced to Lady Vevina and so Lucian had dutifully excused himself under the pretence of forging ahead to make introductions. In actuality, he had left to patrol the perimeter, ensuring there were no threats lurking around the alcove in which Lady Vevina was ensconced.
Lucian could move like a shadow, when he wanted to. He could make himself inconspicuous as easily as he could turn himself into a commanding presence.
As Lucian had been about to slip out of the shadows, satisfied that there were no would-be assassins, someone had stepped cleanly into his path, stopping him.
It had been him. That man—who was scarcely more than a boy, really—with the gold eyes that flashed in the light.
Lucian had allowed himself only two seconds to be impressed, before he'd said, coldly, "Excuse me."
Their gazes had locked and held. The fierce protectiveness in his eyes had been searing, had been a mirror to what Lucian himself felt, but hid better.
He must have been watching very carefully to have seen me, Lucian had thought.
Lucian's mind had made its calculations and assessed. A kindred spirit, he'd decided. Such loyalty was hard to come by, these days.
That had been his assessment of Lady Vevina's guard.
Lucian so hated to be wrong. It scarcely ever happened. And when it did, he had to at least know
why.
He found himself wondering, inexplicably, if he remembered meeting Lucian.
Before he could reconsider, he found the words slipping out of his mouth, "This one."
The guards balked, and went pale. One of them had what might have been a fading black eye. "Sir," they stammered. "Perhaps that is unwise—"
Lucian turned his head. "
This one," he said again, his voice like velvet over steel. "I want him in one of the interrogation rooms. Now." He paused, let menace suffuse the silence that lingered like a noxious cloud. "I won't tell you again."
When he flicked his gaze back to the holding cell, blue met gold.
The prisoner was staring back.
-
Lucian lingered outside the interrogation room. Gatehouse prison kept poor records, but it did at least keep records. Lucian scanned through them again, in the interest of being thorough, and for the purpose of keeping the prisoner waiting.
They didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. In fact, they told him a great deal less. A theory, wrapped in a suspicion, stirred at the back of his mind.
When Lucian finally let himself into the room, after looking askance at the guards stationed at the door, he found the prisoner sitting in a chair that had been bolted to the ground. His feet were chained, and his hands were manacled through an iron loop in the table.
He wasn't doing much of anything, but still Lucian thought,
Belligerent thing.
Stepping languidly with an air of unconcern, Lucian paced the room, not looking at the prisoner. He wondered which tack he should take. It was hard to go wrong with diplomacy. It was the logical choice. However…
However.
"I had the pleasure of making Lady Vevina's acquaintance, once," Lucian said idly, with an air of one discussing the weather.
"She was beautiful, and graceful, and truly humble despite her magical proficiency." Lucian gave a regretful, heartfelt sigh and pressed a hand against his chest. "It is such a pity that she was so brutally slaughtered."
Lucian finished his circuit around the room and stopped in front of the prisoner. "Why did you do it?"