Free The Tower of the Forgotten by Sara M. Harvey

did.
And he was handy to have at her side in a fight. She did not relish a battle
with the Lord Regalii, but she could not deny that she was keeping a running
catalog of his possible weaknesses, just in case.
    "Why
am I here, my Lord?" She could not keep the
contempt out of the honorific.
    Ignoring
her tone, he nodded toward the axe. "Do you keep that with
you always? Or are you at unease here?"
    "I
always have it."
    "At
every meal and every moment, Mistress Portia?"
    "Indeed."
    The
hairs rose on the back of Portia’s neck as she felt the
presence of something unseen in the room with them. No, not in the room, at
least not in the same space they occupied. She meandered toward the window,
glancing at the built-in bookcases along the walls as she did so, trying to
pinpoint the location of the sensation of menace that refused to leave her be.
    "…and
you should be grateful! The Primacy cares a great deal about you." Alaric continued to chatter as if she had been listening
the entire time. "They always have. I want
you to know that."
    She glanced back over her shoulder. He had
tipped his hand, not by much, but enough for her to catch the barest glimpse of
his cards. "The Primacy? Cares about me ? A Gyony?" She hoped she sounded
at least a little star-struck. "I find that difficult to believe. After all, I
have always lived in Nigel’s shadow."
    A fleeting tension flickered around his
eyes at the mention of her foster-brother’s name. Portia noted that as well.
    "Portia,
dear, you have no idea." He laughed and opened
his arms as if she might fall into his fatherly embrace. When she did not, he
clapped his hands together and interlaced his fingers. "The Primacy has many eyes and ears, all attuned to different
things. Yes, Nigel was a prodigy; there is no doubt of that. But so were you,
of a different sort. And now, of a wholly unique sort, indeed."
    She
ran her fingers along the spines of leather-bound books that appeared never to
have been read as she wandered the perimeter of the room. The thrill of being
watched spiked as she neared the servants’ entrance, but faded as
she passed the door.
    "So,
what do you intend, then, sir? You cannot deny the very clear danger posed by
the tower in the bay. Something must be done about it. And someone must be
about doing it."
    "Do
you volunteer?"
    Portia
faced him, her shoulders square. "In fact, I do."
    "Delightful!" He clapped his hands once more and looked her up and down,
appraisingly. "But I’m afraid that’s impossible. You are far
too valuable for that sort of foolhardy campaign. The Lady Analise worked hard
to make you what you are and I have no intention of letting her labor go to
waste. Not to mention a certain angel’s soul that you
currently possess, do you not? No, Mistress Gyony, you’ll not be risking any of those things."
    Portia
stared at him while she processed his words, laying them alongside Imogen’s account of the night she’d
died. Alaric had played a part in that night. Alaric still kept the demon that
had slain her beloved in this very house, and Portia could feel it watching her
through vellum and leather and wood. It was taking her measure.
    And
without a doubt, she knew that Alaric had a hand in Hester’s tragic death.
    She
turned her back on the menacing presence behind the bookshelf and put her hands
on her hips. "What do you plan to do
about Nigel and the tower?"
    "Nigel,
did you say? Nigel’s dead."
    "Don’t play stupid with me."
    "And don’t you be coy, you mouthy
little tart. Gyony have no manners, and you are no exception. And if you think
for a moment that I have no power to wield over you, then you are sorely
mistaken, Fereshte ."
     Hearing the name spoken aloud with such
contempt sent an icy shiver through her. And she knew then, with utter
certainty, what she has suspected all along: the battle that awaited her was
going to be neither easy nor fair.

     
    — 6 —
     
    THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON FOUND them all pretending at being
good