Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(84)

Granger resented the spymaster’s independence from the Guard hierarchy. A few months ago, the bailiff had thought he could blackmail Destin with some scandal he’d unearthed. Granger found a dead rat in his bed the next night, tagged with his name. And then his fiancée, a fierce and formidable heiress from the down-realms, found one in her bed. When she threatened to break off the engagement, Granger reconsidered his choice of a target.

More recently, the young thane had been pressuring Jocelyn Fournier, one of the palace seamstresses, to provide an expanded range of services when he came for a fitting. She was another poor choice of a target, because Jocelyn was Destin’s friend, and one of his most reliable sources.

The next time Granger was on his way to a fitting, he was waylaid by a hooded assailant who beat him soundly and promised to improve the fit of his breeches with a quick bit of surgery if he didn’t find another tailor. It was possible that Granger suspected Destin’s involvement, but he couldn’t prove it, which was what counted, for now.

Destin despised Granger, but he’d learned a long time ago that even the most despicable person could be useful. Especially a despicable person with a secret.

Now Destin settled in to wait. He might have been tempted to sample some of the bailiff’s top-shelf wine, but the risk of poison was too great. Granger had made lots of enemies on his way up.

It wasn’t long before Destin heard fumbling at the door—somebody who’d been drinking, judging by how long it took for him to manage the latch. The door slammed open and Granger stumbled in. Thankfully, he was alone. He kicked the door shut, which nearly put him down on his back. He stumbled to the garderobe and unbuttoned his breeches, hurrying to unburden himself of excess ale.

When he turned back around, he found himself facing Destin Karn. “What the devil are you doing here, you scummer-sucking, backgammoning molly?” He dragged at his breeches, hurrying to fasten them again.

“I’m not the one with his breeches down,” Destin said.

The bailiff blushed hot pink. “This is my apartment,” he said. “You’re the intruder. The king is going to hear about this, I promise you.”

“Sit down,” Destin said. “I need to talk to you.” He shoved a stool toward Granger with his foot.

Granger’s gaze slid to the door, then back to Destin. Maybe he decided there was no way he’d reach the door without being intercepted. Maybe he figured he’d have more dirt on Destin to take to the king if he stayed and listened. In any event, he sat and regarded Destin through baleful eyes.

“I suppose by now you’ve heard that the king intends to invite the families of the rebellious thanes to the inauguration reception,” Destin said.

“He—? Right. Of course,” Granger said, making a rocky recovery. “I think it is exceedingly gracious of him to allow them to participate. It may even present an opportunity for them to redeem themselves.”

“Really? How so?” Destin said, assuming the bailiff wasn’t referring to an opportunity to escape.

“Once the rebels are defeated, and their ringleaders executed, His Majesty will need to dispose of the rebels’ holdings. One solution would be to allow those of us who have remained loyal to the crown to marry into the old families. To bring them back into the fold, as it were.”

“Good idea,” Destin said. “It’s too bad that you are already betrothed to Lady—”

“A broken engagement is a small price to pay in the cause of unifying the empire,” Granger said. “You yourself, Lieutenant, might be in need of an advantageous marriage one day soon.”

Destin’s patience was rapidly eroding. This was not on any list of topics he wanted to discuss with Luc Granger. “Are you proposing marriage, Granger? This is all so sudden.”

Granger flushed. “I am offering you a word of warning,” the gaoler snarled. “I have it on good authority that your father’s days as general of the armies are coming to an end.” He paused, perhaps expecting Destin to leap to the general’s defense.

“I’m sure His Majesty will make his decisions based on performance, just as his father did,” Destin said calmly.

Looking disappointed, Granger pressed on. “Your father was close to King Gerard, but King Jarat does not share the late king’s confidence that the general can deal with a two-front war.”

“That’s the king’s call, of course,” Destin said. “Does he have a suitable replacement in mind?”

Granger brushed imaginary lint from his sleeve. “My name has been mentioned.”

“Really? Then may I be the first to offer congratulations,” Destin said. “Will you be giving up some of your other jobs, or will you keep them all?”

Granger blinked at him.

Clearly this was intended to keep Destin awake at night, worrying. Indeed, it might, since it practically guaranteed victory to the rebels. Granger against Matelon? That was a mismatch of epic proportions.

Ah, Granger, Destin thought. You think you are wielding a big stick, but my stick is so much bigger than yours. Your mistake is that you think I gained power because of my father. The fact is, I gained power in spite of him.

“Then there’s the matter of your mother’s family,” Granger said.

Destin tented his fingertips together. “My mother’s family?” Each word was a warning delivered through gritted teeth, but Granger was oblivious.