Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) by Ben Galley

knew it well. She had worn many like it in her time.
    And now she sat in Clovenhall, trying to ignore the feeling that she was finally home, where she belonged. Instead she summoned up every scrap of hate she held for the master of this house, and let it smoulder in her breast.
    She had a job to do.
    There came a grappling of the door-handle, and in swept Dizali with an attendant. As he spread his hands over the wide, leather-topped desk, his man stood at the window, staring idly at the topiary and pines beyond the glass. He wore a grey bowler hat and a matching suit, and the ensemble tickled a part of Calidae’s mind in a way she didn’t like. It was only when he turned to flash her an inquisitive look that her fears were confirmed.
    One blue eye, one brown eye. Another Brother, then .
    Calidae smiled again, studying Dizali’s face. He shuffled some papers on his desk before looking up at her, running his fingers through his goatee.
    ‘Lady Serped.’
    ‘The very same.’
    ‘My apologies for rushing you away from the Emerald House,’ Dizali began, tapping his fingers on the leather. ‘I find that there are too many wandering eyes and curious ears in the city these days. We wouldn’t want your face smeared all over the morning’s papers now, would we?’
    Calidae cocked her head to one side. She could never pass up the opportunity to make somebody squirm.
    ‘Is my face no longer suitable for the papers?’
    Dizali didn’t know the meaning of squirming, it seemed. He levelled a flat gaze at her.
    ‘Maintaining your privacy is what I aimed to imply, Lady Serped.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘And when tongues begin to wag, they never seem to stop. Better to have our discussion here and in private.’
    Calidae flashed a look to the Brother standing by the window, absently tracing smears on the glass. Dizali followed her eyes. ‘Just a manservant of mine. His tongue does not know how to wag.’
    She decided to wade straight in. She had the impression that Dizali, for all his vile games, was a man who enjoyed talking in a straight line. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun along the way, to see if she could rattle him. Merion had told her not to, but caution be damned. She was the one sat in that chair, not the Hark.
    ‘Gile was the same,’ she replied quietly. ‘Mr Suffrous Gile, that is. My father’s manservant was of the same breed.’ The Brother gave her a sideways glance, full of curiosity. Perhaps he hadn’t known that Calidae Serped was part of the club, so to speak; a lamprey like the rest, one whom Dizali was no stranger to. She had attended many of his parties and ceremonies before Castor had been sent west by the Order itself. There were no secrets here. ‘Like your Mr Gavisham, if I’m not mistaken.’
    Dizali may have blinked, she wasn’t sure. He had noticed the past tense in her words.
    ‘You are not. And what of Mr Gavisham?’ he asked, leaning forward to temple his fingers. ‘Why is he not here with you?’
    Calidae touched her face, as if recalling the memory was too painful. ‘He found me several days walk outside of Fell Falls; what was left of it. Of course, seeing as he was a stranger I lied about who I was. Still, he was kind and offered me escort. We travelled together for several weeks, heading east until meeting up with the circus in Washingtown. He never once mentioned his employer as we walked. I simply recognised the eyes, and from what my father and Gile had told me of the Brothers. When he mentioned his task, I suspected that you may be behind his orders, my Lord.’ Calidae paused for a moment to clench a fist and deepen her scowl.
    ‘Go on,’ Dizali urged, eyes wide.
    ‘He died on the night of the Bloodmoon. The Hark traitor killed him with a stool when his back was turned.’ Calidae caught the flinch of the Brother’s shoulders in the corner of her vision. Dizali was slowly turning a shade of beetroot. It was hard to resist smirking.
    ‘With a stool ?’