Chapter 33: What Harris Knows

Drake met Harris in the empty stable before dawn. Drake was his right hand man.

He handed him the folded report without a word. That was how Drake operated. No pleasantries. No softening. Just the information.

Harris read it once. Then read it again.

"She escaped from our cart," Drake confirmed. "The Yesmar batch. Three months ago. The latch on the left side was rotten. She must have gone through it in the night somewhere between Yesmar and Silverline."

"And before that," Harris said. "The attack on her pack."

Drake was quiet for a moment.

"It was ours, my Lord. One of the early raids. We took seventeen from that one." A pause. "Her parents were among the casualties."

The stable was completely quiet.

Harris read the words again even though he had already understood them the first time.

He had ordered that raid.

He had not been there himself. He never was. He sat at tables, looked at maps, gave orders, and told himself that the distance between himself and the consequence meant something.

He had killed her parents.

He had put her in a cart.

And now she was in his cousin's palace every morning. Fixing the Alpha's hair. Drawing his bath. Standing close enough that Harris could smell her scent from the corridor.

"My Lord," Drake said carefully. "What would you like me to do?"

"Nothing."

"My Lord, if the Alpha is investigating the raids…"

"Nothing, Drake. She does not know who gave the order. Keep it that way."

Drake left.

Harris sat in the cold stable for a long time.

He was not a man who sat with guilt. He had learned long ago to step around it. Guilt was inconvenient. It led to conclusions that were bad for business.

But this was not a crack in the floor he could step around. This was specific. This was her.

He stood up, brushed the hay from his clothes, and went to find his cousin.

++++

Josh was in the garden when Harris found him.

That alone was unusual enough to notice. Josh rarely sat in the garden during the day. He was always working, always in his study, always carrying that permanent tension in his shoulders like armour he never took off.

But there he was. Seated on one of the stone benches with a book in his lap.

Calm.

Harris could not remember the last time Josh had looked calm.

"You look well," Harris said, sitting beside him without waiting to be invited.

Josh glanced at him. "Was that a question or a complaint?"

"An observation." Harris paused. "You have been less difficult lately."

"I am always difficult."

"Less so." Harris looked at the garden casually. "The new maid. Where did you say you found her again?"

Josh turned a page of his book. "I did not say."

"In the woods, was it not? During one of your solitary trips."

"Is there a point to this conversation?"

"I am just making talk," Harris said pleasantly. "She seems to have settled in well. Perhaps too well."

Josh looked at him now. "What does that mean?"

"She is getting close to you, Josh. A servant, in your private chambers, your garden, your company at all hours. Do you not think it is a little…"

"She goes where her duties require her to go."

"Of course." Harris nodded. "I only mean that some people take advantage of proximity to those in power. It happens. You know this better than anyone."

Josh closed his book.

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

Harris kept his voice easy. "Only that perhaps some distance would be wise. Or if you find it complicated, I can always take her into my own service. I have been looking for another maidservant and she seems capable enough."

Josh stared at him.

"Let me be certain I am understanding you correctly," Josh said. "You want me to send away my own maidservant."

"I want you to consider…"

"Why is that your concern?" Josh's voice had gone very level. That particular level that meant he was choosing his words carefully. "I am supposed to be the one bothered if there is something to be bothered about. Not you. Mind your affairs and your business, Harris. Not mine."

"I am only looking out for you. I am your family."

"I do not need looking out for."

"Josh…"

"She is a maidservant." Josh stood up and tucked the book under his arm. "She does her job well. That is the beginning and the end of it." He looked at Harris for a long moment. "If you are truly family, then trust that I know what I am doing."

He walked back toward the palace.

Harris stayed on the bench.

He looked at the garden. The old rose beds. The broken fountain at the far wall. The golden gate where he had seen Olivia three nights ago, barefoot and wrapped in a picnic cloth, announcing she had shifted for the first time as though it were a minor inconvenience.

Josh had not sent her away.

Josh had defended her.

Harris pressed his hands together and stared at nothing.

This was becoming a very serious problem.