Solomon's Journey by James Maxstadt

Author:James Maxstadt [Maxstadt, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 43

Jocasta didn’t even bother with the lamps in the library anymore. When it got dark, she simply sat in the chair behind the desk, gazing into the gloom. Florian probably sat here at one time, as well. Ruling over House Whispering Pines with a steady hand and a calm mind. Oh, he faltered, according to some, after he thought Celia died, but over the course of his long life, he acquitted himself with honor.

She didn’t know how he had done it. It was maddening. There were enemies everywhere, whispering, plotting, planning her downfall. Even those she believed were friends, like Childress, turned against her. It wasn’t fair. And really, he gave her no choice. He was going to have her removed and take the House back to what it once was. A mere extension of the will of the two other Great Houses, Towering Oaks and Glittering Birch.

He needed to go, so she did what was necessary.

And she definitely did not see him over there, standing near one of the shelves, watching her with his accusing eyes. How could she? It was dark in the room. Dark enough that she couldn’t see his eyes, boring into her.

She turned away. Let him stand there all night. The glass she took a sip of wine from was the same one that she had handed him. Hah. That will show him.

And Darius. Her trusted aide. Where was he?

Darius was gone a lot, lately. Jocasta hadn’t sent him on any errands, not since telling him to go spy on Towering Oaks. Yet he wasn’t here. She summoned him earlier and he was nowhere to be found.

Darius was working for someone else. Jocasta wasn’t stupid, and she’d heard all the stories of what happened when the Soul Gaunts attacked. The fact that they were brought here by a secret house, under the control of Jamshir.

A secret house. One that moved behind the scenes and was unknown to any others. They made what Whispering Pines did seem childish by comparison. Maybe Childress had been working for them. She glanced at the darker shape near the bookcase. The one she knew was just a large urn on a delicate table. It wasn’t a stooped, elderly body, watching her and laughing at her failures. It was not that.

Childress was gone, but Darius was still here. Darius, who, she was fairly certain, was working for the secret house.

She took another sip of wine, sure that she could taste a hint of bitterness. Maybe the poison wasn’t as tasteless as she’d thought.

She was lifting the glass to her lips again when the door opened and light flooded in.

“Are you sleeping in here? Why is it so dark?”

There was the rasp of a match and one of the lamps flared to life.

“What are you doing?” Darius asked, moving to light another one.

“Thinking,” Jocasta answered.

She watched him, moving easily, not looking over at her. So at home, so confident in his place.

“That sounds ominous.” Darius finished lighting the lamps and took a seat across the desk from her.

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