Oath of Steel

32 |Push the Pearls|

There was no electricity in his room, and probably in the whole building itself.

"Tradition," the voice of Charles came from behind like a bullet being released from the barrel of a gun, swift and steady without a hint of fear.

Rosalynde turned out to look at him from her seat. "Excuse me?"

Charles chuckled from the opposite seat and waved his hands around. "The club loves to maintain traditions, in other words its main goal is to never change with the passage of the years, no electricity, no press crawling outside, complete privacy and animosity and especially no prying woman dragging away their spouses."

The only thing Rosalynde did to restrain herself was to ask an attendant for a cigar, a pair of wine glasses a bottle of red to ease her mind.

Had she not done that, Charles would have regrettably ended his long career as attendant on the bottom of the river with his legs tied with an iron chain and a bag full of rocks.

They were left alone for some time, the other users of the foyer didn't even dare meet Grey's eyes, nevertheless speak a single word to him.

A wrong gesture, a wrong word and the latter would have ended with a simple smile whatever project they were plotting in terms of career.

"So, what do we do now?" Rosalynde whispered once more as she gestured around them. "Are we to sit still until the answer to all our problems will magically waltz inside the room?"

She nearly made the chalice slip from her fingers as he ended her torment.

"That's exactly what we're doing, Silver." He raised his own glass and urging her to a toast they sat in a perpetual silence. "That's exactly what we're doing."

꧁꧂

It wasn't before two hours made out of conversing with new business entries of Greys' that their man finally showed up. He announced himself with four attendants opening the foyers doors and looking around before giving their master a contained nod.

The man strode into the room covered in gold, long robes and with a strong scent of spices coming from across the sea.

They'd never met, not in person, at least. But Rosalynde knew who the man was- and she knew very well.

Out of the four Great Rowlian Houses of their standing empire, three remained.

Two ruled over the other with a sceptre of nobler blood.

One marked with unforgivable treason.

And not a single one of them free from sin.

Lord Regulus had been young when he assumed the title of the Duke of Sternstorn, but Lord William apparently had been even younger when he ascended to his. After a massacre that left him without family, with only a family ring in hand and in a home too big for a single person to live in he'd tried leading a simple life outside of the political schemes.

Those facts had happened many years ago, way before Rosalynde's birth, way before the day Lord Regulus by divine and royal will, had ascended to his father's seat.

William Heriom had retired from the political life to live free from preoccupations, but apparently he still frequented the House of Hastles in honour of his former self.

Or to hide everything hr knew he'd abandoned the second he'd renounced to his position.

"Lord Grey, it has been a while. How do you do?" Duke Heriom asked, holding out his hand.

"How do you do, Duke Heriom?" Grey was already up standing on his feet as Rosalynde slowly rose herself.

"Living my best life- within reach of the prying eyes of her Majesty, of course, especially after many of my associates have stopped coming here. Feels quite lonely these days." He gestured for an attendant to fetch them three new glasses.