"I...yes...of course, sir. I can fetch Lady Ursula." She curtseyed in a rush, nearly dropping the last of his cutlery, and scurried from the room.
Lady Ursula. So, he's taken Faraday and his nephew with him. But to what end? More questions. Mores secrets. No answers. He uncrossed his arms and turned back to the window. It was starting to rain again.
"Where are you?" he asked out loud, not sure if he was talking to Jamal, Five Fingers, or himself. Things like this did not usually happen. He was the type of man who knew what was going on at all times. He kept control of situations and people so things like this did not happen. His harsh brutality kept people in line. They did not sneak behind him, making up their own rules. They did not cross him.
For some bizarre reason, he thought of Dorius then, and how the man's recent show of disobedience had forced Rafe to take action. That's when everything started going to shit... It was the truth though.
And what of the wolf tracks?
He vaguely remembered some old stories of the wolf protecting the Shadow Wood, keeping the evil Black Stag at bay: whispered legends casting it in a sinewy light.
Ten minutes later, the groan of the door again drew Rafe away from the window, where he had sulked until the back of his neck hurt. The tiny girl struggled to keep the door ajar as a man in purple livery forced a wheeled chair into the room. In it sat a grumpy looking young woman with striking amber-colored eyes: the trademark of the powerful Denizen family. They narrowed at him as she was wheeled nearer.
He had met Ursula Denizen probably ten years ago at the Dawning Ball when Bruce Palisade had been crowned the heir to Verlic. That had been their first and last meeting. Every other subsequent opportunity for her to be present, her uncle had always explained that she was ill or was out of town. Seeing her now, Rafe could hardly blame either of them for wanting to keep Ursula and her whereabouts hidden.
"Well, go on then, Commander," she urged roughly, her voice like dried wood. "Stare a bit more." Where the smooth ebony skin stretched even and shining across Jamal Denizen, Ursula's was scarred and hooved. It was especially rough on the left side of her dark face, the lumpy bumps and charred skin extending down her neck and disappearing beneath the neckline of her gown. She had no eyebrows. Her hair was matted and half missing, arching into a deep, unflattering widow's peak on her broad forehead.
He didn't apologize for gawking. How could Ursula be upset when she looked like that? "What happened to you?" he asked without preamble.
"Me first," she remarked. She was pushed closer, and she looked worse to him than he had first thought. "Why are you here?"
"I have business with your uncle," he replied stiffly.
"What business does the king's dog have with Jamal Denizen?" Her voice was haughty and mocking.
Rafe pursed his lips. In spite of himself, he had to admire her taciturn. "I need to speak with your uncle about a... mutual acquaintance." He extended his hand onto the table, opening his palm.
Ursula's lips turned into an ugly frown. "You're here for Five Fingers."
"Is he still in Hawthorn?"
Ursula's eyes roamed around the room, and she was pushed closer still to Rafe. He resisted the urge to inch back, instead keeping his back straight.
"Leave us, Sabine," Ursula called to the girl behind her. She quickly turned and hurried from the room; relief evident on her face. Ursula turned back to the Commander. "He came here some time ago, seeking answers, but that's all I'm at liberty to say while my uncle is away." She clenched the armrest of her chair tightly. Rafe raised his eyebrows. Something was gnawing at her. Could he learn what it was?
He shifted in his own seat and cleared his throat. Although persuasion was not his strong suit, he could work with anger and rage. He sought to glean at least one new thing from the wasted trip. "Your uncle is one of the most powerful lords in the west. Something important must have called him away."
"They all three went," Ursula snapped bitterly. "Even though I'm the better conjurer, he still took Ronan instead of me." She looked away sharply, knowing she had said too much.
"Sounds like a shitty deal," Rafe remarked. Keep her angry. "Although, if it was some important matter, then it sounds like all the right people went. He's left you here, to handle the meager dealings." For a second, he thought he'd pushed too hard. Ursula stared blankly at the far wall, her eyes blinking slowly. Then, she exploded.
Her fist slammed down onto the table. "If I wasn't in this damn chair, I would have been able to go with them, but ever since Ellendar they treat me like a child!"
Rafe sat back and enjoyed the show. "Oh?" he prompted. "I thought that island was a myth."
"You're good, I'll give you that," Ursula mused, seeming to realize she'd been about to reveal too much. Her fingers dug into the chair's arm. "Despite my anger, I never forget whose side I'm on."
"There are no sides," Rafe pressed. "We are at peace."
"Then why does Clive need you?" Ursula asked purposely. Rafe scoffed at the blow. "Commander Walsh," she continued, "the king's dog." The conversation had been skillfully shifted. Now, instead of Denizen being at the center of it, Ursula maneuvered Rafe himself to the forefront.
"I may be a dog," he said evenly, "but at least I'm one with four legs. At least I know what I am and what my purpose is." Fire blazed behind Ursula's amber eyes.
"You bastard," she hissed.
"Five Fingers," he tried again, leaning over the table. "Tell me where he is, and I'll leave."
"I heard about your feud with the man," Ursula said, ignoring his demands; swatting them away like they were some flippant gnat. An annoyance to the bigger point she was trying to prove. "All the way from Carez."
"Then you know how eager I am to find him." Rafe's hand clenched into a fist.
"Why?"
"To call him out on his bullshit."
"You think what's happening here is bullshit?" Ursula relaxed. She had gained the upper hand once more. "These sightings, these encounters... they all mean something." She bit her lip. Her forehead wrinkled and if she had had brows, they would have been raised. "The Black Stag-"
"I'm hardly in the mood for ghost stories," Rafe snapped, and Ursula clamped her mouth shut.
Easy, he told himself. You were just getting her to talk.
"Ghost stories?" she mocked. "You're all fools."
"I'm tired of the games." Rafe stepped around the table, using his height to his advantage and towering over Ursula threateningly. He placed his hand on the back of her chair next to her head and peered down at her. She tried to appear calm, but he saw her pupils dilate. They darted around anxiously.
"Threatening me in my own house?" she whispered.
"There's been no threats," Rafe replied dryly. "None yet."
"The inn down on Black Hollow," she mumbled, swallowing. "He's been staying there." He released the chair.
"There we are," he said, patting her shoulder, relishing in her fear. How easy it was to draw information from someone when they were scared. "That wasn't so hard." While he stepped back toward his seat and his back was to her, she found the strength to spit a reply.
"You'll get what's coming to you, Commander Walsh! Mark my words..."