Some niggling sensation lingered in the back of his mind whispering a haunting chant: Didn’t you?
He pulled on his cigar, then exhaled tendrils of black smoke. Patrick sat back in his chair looking infinitesimally more relaxed than he had upon entering. As if he’d just found his comfort zone.
“That’s exactly what you did,” he continued. “You were jealous. She was beautiful and we were relatively happy together during our short affair.”
“How ridiculous. I’ve nothing to be jealous of.”
Patrick smiled, completely at ease now. He looked like a man who’d won a great prize. If he’d come here hoping to throw Lyle off kilter, then so far, he’d succeeded.
Time to turn the tables and fish out the information he needed. Lyle slid the report he’d received from one of his scouts across the desk. Those scouts, or spies, as some might call them, had done an inordinate amount of work for Lyle. He liked to keep tabs on his enemies and friends. He didn’t care for surprises.
“What’s this?” Patrick peered at the document.
“It’s a report that says you were seen with Lysse at the annual celebration ball. You were alone with her for roughly sixteen minutes in an office.”
“Your spies are lying to you,” Patrick said, shrugging.
“I disagree. See, Lysse left my side during those sixteen minutes, declaring a sudden urgency for the powder room. However, when she came back she was antsy, rubbing her legs together. Five minutes later and she had to excuse herself again. Because she’d never used the bathroom to begin with. Because she was with you.”
“Perhaps she was sick with her menses or some other poor ailment. Leave the woman alone, I say, and stop harassing her.”
“She’s a mole.”
Patrick blinked, his body stiffening. “What on Earth are you talking about?”
“We learned from day one of the attack that Lysse was not just a part of it—but the instigator. She planned this attack, as far as our intelligence tells us. She worked with Avagarian leaders to orchestrate the attack during the Claiming Ceremony. She knew security would be lax on the walls. And it was. People are dead now.”
Patrick leaned back in his seat, his eyes faraway as he grew lost in thought. Lyle let him consider the news, curious as to what he’d have to say about it.
“I don’t believe it,” he said after a minute.
“Well, start believing. It’s the truth. What did you two talk about when you slipped into the office?”
“What did we talk about? The good old times. What else?”
“Your honesty is refreshing.” Lyle stamped out his cigar. He was getting nowhere. How did you make a man tell you honest information without bribing, coercing, torturing?
You ask nicely.
Huzzah! When did that work but for young women and charming children?
A thought struck. And a new plan formed.
What was one weakness that his brother always seemed to have?
For one reason or the other, it always revolved around one woman.
Lysse Karmine.
She was the reason why Lyle had, admittedly, charmed Lysse from Patrick years ago. He had done it. He was younger then, stupider. Looking back on his move, he wasn’t proud of it, but he hadn’t regretted his decision. His half-brother always had a soft spot for the peasant girl. Though girl was hardly the correct term for a half-breed Avagarian.
Lyle had slept with her. Had inadvertently slipped her information; who knew what documents she’d read over his shoulder or while he used the toilet. He’d made far too many mistakes. His biggest—underestimating her.
Lyle pledged never to allow a woman to hear his secrets again. No matter what. Lysse’s betrayal was a blow to him, physically and mentally.
“Listen, I have to be honest. Lysse’s in a lot of trouble. We have first-hand witnesses, myself and General Ward included, who saw Lysse’s betrayal to the Avagarians. We even saw her transformed.”
Patrick slammed his back into the chair. “You…saw her transformed?”
Any pretense vanished from his half-brother’s eyes. He was too stunned.
“Yes. She tried to kill Penelope Farris. In fact, she nearly turned her into an Ava. She’d bitten her, injecting the venom into Penelope’s body. If not for Ryon’s quick thinking, she might have permanently turned into one of them.”
Patrick shook his head like a concussed person, dazed and confused. “She bit Penelope?”
“Yes,” Lyle said. Finally, he was gaining some ground.
“She wouldn’t,” Patrick said faintly, distracted.
“She did. On top of that, another of my informants tells me you were seen heading to one of the secluded rooms below the arena before the show. Blood and a messy room was found afterward. Mind telling me what happened? Also, what happened to your leg there? I don’t recall seeing that ailment before today.”