Rey and Olivier both jumped as the sound of someone knocking on the door reverberated downstairs. “Thank goodness,” Rey said. He pointed to Olivier. “Stay where you are.”
He raced down the stairs, lacing up his shirt as he went, and swung open the door.
“Eli,” he said. “Thank the spirits you’re back.”
“Eli?”
Rey stood stock still in the doorway, rain falling over his shoes, as Sabre de Valois blinked at him like a lost puppy. He was drenched, his white undershirt soaked through and his sleep pants stuffed into rainboots, and his long reddish-brown hair felluntied around his shoulders. Behind him, Laurent de Rue stood in a wet velvet suit with his hair a mess and his arms crossed, radiating distaste.
“Nothing,” Rey said. “No one. Is Art with you? He fetched you, didn’t he?” Rey strained to look around Sabre’s broad shoulders, but there was no one there. Just the rainswept street, with the gray light of dawn breaking over the horizon.
“He didn’t,” Sabre said, slowly. “Or he didn’t properly. He came to the House of Onyx and asked to see me, but he left when Laurent spoke to him.” Sabre gave Laurent a wary look.
“If he’s gone, we may as well turn back,” Laurent said. Ice practically crystallized in the air as he spoke. What on earth had Eli said to him?
Sabre, however, ignored his husband’s frosty demeanor. “I saw him walking up the street, and since you said you lived here, I thought you might know something about it.”
“We had another altercation with Olivier Blanchet,” Rey said. Why hadn’t Eli brought Sabre himself? Where had he gone? “I sent him to get you, since I thought it might need discretion, but he left? And you…followed him?”
Sabre looked down. He was twisting a silver signet ring around his finger, over and over. “I don’t know why I did. It seemed important, but I can’t say why. I’ve learned to trust my gut feelings over the years. Do you know where he’s gone?”
Rey shook his head. Where else would Eli have gone to deal with Olivier? Not the city guards, if they were as corrupt as Olivier hinted. Rose de Rue didn’t have enough power to do anything, regardless of how polite she’d been to them both when they first met. “Which direction did he go?”
“That way,” Sabre said, pointing to the winding street that twisted around the whole of Duciel. “What kind of altercation did you have? It’s barely dawn. Olivier Blanchet isn’t the type to wake up earlier than noon.”
Dawn. There was something aboutdawnthat tickled the back of Rey’s mind. He froze, fingers tensing around the doorframe. No. Eli wouldn’t have.
“He…did have an invitation from Duke de Mortain,” Rey said. “A duel at dawn.”
“What? In this weather?” Sabre pushed wet hair out of his face. “He’s a solid fighter, but Izzy—Isiodore would thrash him. I’ve fought the duke in the rain before. His footwork is unnerving.”
“I’m not worried about his footwork,” Rey said. He grabbed his jacket from the hook and threw it on. “I’m more worried about my friend doing something he’ll regret. As you may have noticed, he’s a bit impulsive.”
Sabre’s sidelong smile was a mirror image of Eli’s. “Just a little. You don’t think he’s gone to Isiodore for help? He used to be the left hand of the king, of course, but he’s passed that title down to another.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” Rey closed the door after him, saying a quick prayer to the world at large that Olivier didn’t choke on his own tears by the time they got back. “I’m going to stop him. Thank you for telling me, Your Grace.”
“Just Sabre,” Sabre said, and followed Rey down the path. “And I’m coming with you.”
“We both are,” Laurent added, squeezing the hem of his velvet jacket. Water spattered over his boots, and his scowl deepened.
Rey searched Sabre’s face, but Sabre’s eyes were dark and unreadable. “Why?”
“As I said, I trust my instincts.” Sabre squared his shoulders and met Rey’s lanky stride, clearly unbothered by the rain or the fact that he was walking about in his sleep clothes. “And they tell me I need to find him. What was that business with Olivier, anyway?”
“Probably unimportant now.” Rey picked up the pace, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hand. “Let’s hurry before he challenges the duke over someone’s honor.”
“He wouldn’t really,” Sabre said. “Would he?”
“At this point,” Rey said, grimacing as rain fell down the collar of his jacket and began to curl his hair, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”
Chapter
Eleven
Few people were inclined to go for a walk in Duciel when the streets became a series of shallow rivers, but Eli had navigated worse. He trudged through the rain, passing noble houses and stable yards. Blossoms from late-blooming trees floated past him in the gutters, and windows glowed with light as noble families and their servants lit fires to stave off the chill of the rain.
The street started to widen, and the houses on either side disappeared to make way for cultivated gardens. As the breadbasket of Iperios, Staria liked to show off its palatial road by lining it with ornamental vegetable gardens. The air smelled like earth and fertilizer despite the garlands that wound up lampposts and signs, and a lone gardener worked in the rain a few yards away, digging between tomato plants. It wasn’t particularly grand or beautiful, but Eli thought it almost fit the persona Adrien had made for himself.
