"Thatâs fitting, isnât it?" Marcel asked as he speared a cabbage roll and began cutting it into smaller pieces. The intense stare that Isabell directed at him rolled off his pale skin like water off the back of a duck. At this point, heâd lost count of how many determined, focused people heâd sat across a table from, and the look she gave him was no different from the hostile looks heâd received from men who were old when she was still a child.
"Wasnât it always said that she kept to herself?" Marcel asked as though the answer was common knowledge. "Itâs been said that she rarely left the manor because of her poor health, hasnât it? Lady Jocelynnâs words arenât too out of place then, are they?"
"Lady Jocelynn says what outsiders expect to hear," Isabell said bitterly, pushing the flakes of fish around on her plate, unable to find any joy in the careful preparation of the local trout while anxiety about Lady Ashlynn gnawed at her belly.
"But anyone who really met Lady Ashlynn knows that sheâs always busy doing something. She planted her own garden in Blackwell Manor and dug in the dirt with her bare hands," she said with a snort as she tried to imagine the frail, withdrawing image of Ashlynn that sheâd been told about next to the rambunctious young girl sheâd known for several years.
"She snuck out of the manor at night to go up on the cliffs and watch the ships come in when the sun rose," Isabell said, repeating the story sheâd heard from Ashlynnâs mother, the Countess, when she asked about revealing a way for the mischievous young Ashlynn to slip out at night. She hadnât been surprised that the Countess knew about her daughterâs escapades, but the resigned look she had when she gave her permission to reveal a small secret had always troubled the engineer.
"But now, sheâs holed up in a room in the villa, unable to receive guests and doing nothing but reading?" Isabell said incredulously. "That doesnât sound like the Lady Ashlynn that I knew. Not one bit."
"So you two are worried about her," Marcell said, setting his cutlery down and growing very still as he regarded the pair of guild masters. "The question is, if it came down to it, would you stand on her side? Even if it meant you had to stand in opposition to Lord Owain?"
"I knew it," Tiernan said. "I told you that things werenât well between her and her husband. Is that why you wanted to meet with us?" the Iron Monger asked, looking expectantly at Isabell as he fit the pieces together in his mind. "Let me guess. Lady Ashlynnâs not holed up in the Summer Villa because of her pregnancy. Sheâs held prisoner there and you need us, need Master Isabell, to engineer a way out for her."
"If thatâs whatâs happening," Isabell said slowly. "Then of course, Iâll stand with Lady Ashlynn. But when I received her letter, she didnât ask me to help her escape. She asked for my help engineering an escape for Lady Jocelynn. The way she wrote, it sounded like sheâd given up on any hope of escape for herself," she said, looking at Marcel and fervently wishing that sheâd read Lady Ashlynnâs intention incorrectly.
"Good," Marcel said, offering the pair a smile that felt cold, calculated, and... triumphant. "As long as you remain committed to stand on Lady Ashlynnâs side, I will treat you as her allies in whatâs to come. But I will warn you," he said as his already dark eyes seemed to become even darker, turning into bottomless pits that could devour a personâs soul.
"If you betray this trust," he said in a voice that seemed to echo from somewhere far away. "Death would be a release from the fate that finds you. If you cannot promise me that you will carry the secrets I share to your graves and beyond, then we should part ways now and pretend this meeting never happened."
"You can trust in our word," Tiernan said, standing quickly and moving to place his burly frame between Isabell and the suddenly menacing dark-haired youth. "But if youâre going to make threats," he added, cupping one meaty hand over a massive fist and cracking his knuckles. "Know that I donât take kindly to threatening people, especially people like Master Isabell."
"Relax, Master Tiernan," Isabell said from behind her towering companion, placing a hand on his shoulder and gesturing for him to return to his seat. "Iâm sure that Mister Marcel is just making things clear before he invites his hidden master to reveal these secrets to us."
"Thatâs the real reason youâve been playing all these word games, isnât it?" Isabell asked, looking directly at Marcellâs dark eyes. "Weâve heard of this âwell-connectedâ individual you serve as an intermediary for," she added, looking at the door the servants had used to enter the room. "Isnât it time for the man behind the curtain to reveal himself?"
"Hidden Master?" Marcel said, blinking several times before he burst out in laughter. "While itâs true that Iâm bound to the service of a powerful Mistress, I assure you that she isnât here. More importantly, unless my Mistress orders me otherwise, Lady Ashlynnâs orders are the second only to hers."
"The person youâve likely been told about is a real person," Marcel admitted to the suddenly confused engineer who thought sheâd assembled all the pieces correctly. "Heâs known as the âBlack Merchantâ, but that name has always referred to me," he said, giving a self-deprecating bow from his seat.
"Youâre the incredibly powerful and well-connected individual that Owain Lothian is doing business with?" Master Isabell asked, blinking several times as she tried to fit the puzzle pieces together in a way that made sense. "But if youâre bound in service to Lady Ashlynn..."
"Lady Ashlynn needs strong supporters who can fight at her side, whether thatâs on the field of battle or in the halls of power where alliances are forged and rivals are toppled in fair and just confrontations," Marcel said smoothly.
"She also needs supporters who have ears in many places, and hands in many pockets," he added. "Iâve done those things for my Mistress for a very long time, and now I do them for Lady Ashlynn as well. But in order for you to understand your role in whatâs to come and the way you can most be of use to Lady Ashlynn, there are secrets you should know or nothing else will make any sense," he said.
"You mentioned secrets," Teirnan said, giving both doors an evaluating look. "Is it safe to speak here? Should we go somewhere that someone wonât accidentally enter here?"
"No one will disturb us here," Marcel said confidently. "Now that we have our meal, no one else is even allowed on this floor. The other dining rooms are all empty, and I promise you that I would notice anyone intruding where they shouldnât be long before they could hear what I have to say."
"Now, let me start with the most important secret," Marcel said before the pair could interrupt with any further questions. "Lady Ashlynn isnât in the Summer Villa. She isnât even in Lothian March and she hasnât been since the night of her wedding when Owain failed to murder her," he said.
For the next several seconds, Marcel said nothing as he waited for the pair to process what heâd just said. Isabellâs face instantly lost all color, quickly looking almost as pale as Marcel himself did, while Tiernanâs face turned bright crimson with barely suppressed outrage as he clenched his fists and visibly shook with fury.
"I just received news the other night," he added in the hopes that he could help them channel the intense feelings storming in their hearts. "Lady Ashlynn is returning from the place where sheâs been in hiding. When she returns, she intends to confront Owain and lay claim to Lothian March."
"The only question is," the dark-haired youth asked. "When the time comes, are you prepared to