Free Brotherhood of the Strange (Kingship, Tales from the Aether Book 1) by Michael Richie, Grant Wilson Page A

expensive to be in the hands of a run-of-the-mill hireling, despite his appearance.
    “You can’t take him! Please Father!” Cordelia sobbed, rushing to Degory and embracing him.
    “Cordelia, listen to me,” Degory said calmly as they were dragged apart, “There’s nothing more to be done. If going with your father keeps you safe, it is a course of action I embrace.” Turning to his brother he said, “She knows, Edward. Your daughter now knows exactly who her father is. I do hope you can live with yourself.”
    With a motion of Edward’s head, there was nothing more to be said between the two, and Degory was escorted out. As he descended the stairs he could hear his niece demanding her father take his leave. He was looking for some manner of escape, but could think of none that would not endanger Cordelia. His best course of action for the time being was compliance. Confident she would follow his instructions in locating the Kingship, she should be able to locate and hopefully rescue him, wherever he was about to be taken. At least he now stood the chance of gleaning additional information regarding the Hand of Paris. Learning about the multitude of plans in the works might be worth any unpleasantries he may be forced to endure. At least that’s what he told himself.
    Roughly shoved into the back of one of the black steam powered carriages, Degory could see it was clearly expensive, of course Edward would settle for no less. He wasn’t able to take advantage of the comfort and luxury as a moistened cloth was held to his face upon entering. Within seconds he was lost to the sick, sweet smelling oblivion of chloroform.



Chapter IX
     
    The thug with the tattered bowler hat sat quietly reading a three-day-old newspaper, apparently satisfied guarding a girl weighing no more than nine stone was not a task that required much concentration. His dirty, smelly clothes were ruining a white floral patterned wingback which had been a favorite of her mother’s before she moved to the country. In point of fact, Cordelia could not find blame with the man’s cavalier attitude regarding her newly enforced captivity. She had fallen apart as they led Degory away, demanding that her father leave, but her conviction gave way to sobs as the emotion of the evening took over. Upon leaving, Edward had left this nameless hired gun to, as he put it “keep her safe” till he returned. The realization she was a prisoner in her own home, at her father’s behest nonetheless, was nothing short of intolerable. For almost twenty minutes she sat on the sofa. The same sofa where she had tended to her dear beloved uncle’s arm less than an hour earlier. Wave after wave of grief-filled tears finally subsided to quiet shivers. Through it all, the burly, fragrant guard simply read, scarcely looking up at his prisoner. Cordelia still found it difficult to believe the actions of her father. He had never been what she would consider affectionate, but this was behavior unbecoming a gentleman of his high London stature. He had allowed a weapon to be pointed at her, and she feared he would lose little sleep had it been discharged. Even now, his motives and course of action were a mystery to her. Obviously he planned to return, the single guard could not watch her forever. When that would be she could not even hazard a guess, and her fear for Degory was increasing by the minute. She had never seen her uncle this afraid before. In her heart, though it pained her to admit, her uncle was in real danger because of her father.
    Glancing over at the Japanese vase on the mantle Cordelia was reminded of her uncle’s mandate to her. Fortunately, no search of her apartment had been made, though she guessed Edward would remedy that upon his return. She dared not go near it now, though everything in her small frame screamed the information therein must remain safe. Her gaze turned toward the door where the guard who was ruining her mother’s chair sat. Needing to