Decadent Sins by Relken Heather

Author:Relken, Heather
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-08T16:00:00+00:00

The Widow’s Tears

The castle crypts are warmed by nothing other than the occasional torches posted upon the walls, and the cold comfort of dead things. I draw my cloak further across my chest, wishing tradition paraded stone bodies in the gardens instead of down below the earth. But, a mere minor inconvenience in the face of quite a lot of money.

I don’t come cheap.

We follow behind the royal silvers of the Regency as he leads us through the sprawling, expansive crypt until at long last we reach the latest entry into this hall of history. A young man, I’d heard plenty of his exploits to know the sort of reputation he left behind when he was so tragically ripped from this plane of existence.

No doubt his father is the only one who misses him. I’m sure even the lady Regency isn’t wholeheartedly sad to see him go.

I stealth into the recessed wall, getting a closer look at the statue. The dark, shadow-skinned man behind me stays a respectful distance away, at Ashor’s side.

Gavis snickers in a crone’s laugh. “Stonesetter is ready to take the rest, at any time.”

I draw a fingertip across the exposed half of his cold face, knuckles running along the clammy skin of his cheek. The dark figure beside Ashor speaks, his voice low, “The stone has preserved his body well. Barring any unforeseen complications, I should have no trouble with him. I will need materials…”

The Regency nods, his eyes on the shape of his son’s face. “Anything you need.”

“Good.” my familiar says. “Provide me the items I need, as well as payment, and I’ll begin work.”

Gavis speaks even before the Regency reacts. “You wouldn’t be paid until we see results—”

“If I’m not paid, I don’t work,” the familiar tells Ashor, backing away a pair of steps and moving for the door. I, meanwhile, pluck a hair from the young Regency’s head and twirl it between my fingers.

“Half upfront,” the Regency speaks softly—the man never stops brooding, so I hear. “Half when you’ve done your part of the deal.”

“Fascinating,” the familiar says, “You think you can negotiate my methodology? Shall I do half my work, leave the rest unfinished? We can play this all day, Regency, but I haven’t the patience and do have plenty of other desperate customers willing to pay what’s fair.”

“You’ve not even named a price, shadow man.”

Gavis stumbles forward between the two of them, holding up his hands. “Masozi is worth any price, my lord, his work is immaculate—”

I raise a brow at the halflings forwardness, watching the Regency turn his torso at the little man and glare down at him. “Uncovering the truth behind my son's death is worth any price. But a price must be named, to be paid.”

“I realize that’s how most do it,” the shadow says, “but I operate in a different way. You pay me, I work. I don’t like what you offer? I don’t work.”

The Regency sighs softly. “Enough cloak and dagger. Do you ask for coin, or other goods?”

“Everything has a value.

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