A thrilling blend of classic murder mystery and fantasy for those who love Murder on the Orient Express and Death on the Nile every bit as much as Fourth Wing and A Court of Thorns and Roses.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Emily Paxman’s Death on the Caldera, which is out June 17th 2025.
The Linde siblings—Kellen, Davina, and Morel—are anxious to return to the kingdom of Halgyr before their father dies, leaving Kellen to assume the throne as king. They book tickets on a luxury express train, expecting a swift journey home—but disaster strikes when the train engine explodes, stranding the siblings atop a caldera bubbling with volcanic magic.
The crash triggers Davina’s latent witch powers, but her magic disrupts her ability to remember what she was doing when the explosion took place. While a witch would be the prime suspect for the catastrophe, the only ones who knew Davina might become one are her brothers—who never warned her. And, to add insult to injury, somebody is bumping off the surviving train crew and passengers. But it can’t be Davina, can it?
While the remaining passengers try to determine who sabotaged the engine and catch the killer, the fractured siblings attempt to stay one step ahead, concealing not only Davina’s powers but their own secrets. Luckily, they aren’t the only shifty characters on the train…
Chapter 3
You know, when we came to Pesca, Morel let me have my own compartment.” Davina was trying a new tactic to get Kellen to let her enrol at university in Balter. She would remind him of how troublesome she could be until he wanted her as far from Halgyr as possible. It might not work, but at least she would get the pleasure of annoying him in the meantime.
“Well, I’m sorry to report that the embassy was only able to get two rooms. We’ll manage.” Kellen, of course, took the private berth. He needed the extra space for an office, since even Father’s impending death wasn’t enough to make him give up work.
As Morel hefted their trunks into the overhead compartment, Davina settled into one of the two bunks. She fiddled with the edge of her silk bedsheets, wishing she could enjoy them as they deserved. Since the royal family always travelled incognito, it was rare they indulged in tickets for a luxury train. But death wasn’t something you sauntered up to casually. This new express line would see them home in record time.
Father is dying.
Davina’s own words echoed in her bones. It was such a half-baked tragedy. If they arrived too late and he’d already passed by the time they reached Halgyr, would she be sorry? It would be easier to let him go without goodbyes. She didn’t want to weep at his bedside as he slipped away. He hadn’t earned her grief, yet it nagged inside, desperate to drag her down.
A gentle lurch beneath her announced that the engine had engaged. Outside her window, the gilded filigree work of the train-yard began to blur then vanish altogether. She pulled away from the glass, refusing to be sentimental about this parting. She had to come back to Balter. The future would be too bleak if she didn’t.
Across from her, Morel looked just as melancholy, seated on his own bed and staring at his boots. She plastered on a smile and nudged one of his legs gently with her foot. Someone had to try to keep the mood bright. “Want to get something to eat? I think the chef said it’s beef tenderloin tonight.”
Morel rubbed the back of his neck. “I wish I could. Kellen has some business he wants me to go over with him.”
“Oh.” Davina’s hands dropped into her lap. So, Kellen had assignments for Morel, but nothing for her. Admittedly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to work, but sometimes she thought she would take forced labour over being constantly overlooked.
“But maybe this evening we’ll grab dessert?” said Morel. “Or I heard there’s billiards in the smoking carriage. It’s a really fancy train.”
When Davina was a child, Morel had cheered her up easily by taking her fishing along the river or teaching her how to swear behind their uncle’s back. He’d been everything a little girl could want from an older brother. Now neither of them was young enough for such simple distractions to work, though he still tried. “Have you ever played billiards before?” he said.
“No.” She faked cheerfulness again. “I guess that will be something new.”
“I know this trip hasn’t been what you hoped. Kellen… well, he mentioned that you talked about university.” Morel took one of her hands in his, his fingers warm and calloused. For all his foibles, he did care about her. Cared enough he’d tried to warn her not to make a fool of herself by arguing with Kellen. “But even if it’s not this year, maybe next? Some good has to come from Kellen taking the throne.”
“I’m sure you’re right.” There was no point in telling Morel about the registration papers she’d sent in. With all his righteous worry, he’d only tell her eldest brother. “Well… don’t keep Kellen waiting on my account.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. At least it’s a good train.”
“The train is perfect.” It was the nicest thing she could think of to say.
Davina sat alone in her compartment for a spell. Ever since they’d left Halgyr, Morel had been her constant, pestering companion. She hadn’t realised until now how easily he’d driven away her morbid thoughts.
Father dying.
Kellen, every bit as big of an ass, about to be king.
Gods, she was being dramatic. Davina unpacked her best dress, dusted her cheeks with rouge and rolled down her stockings. She didn’t have much money on her, but this train had a smoking carriage that would be stuffed with gentlemen. Surely one would love the chance to shower her with drinks and push away her misery.
* * *
She tried the soldiers first.
A squadron of Balterian troops was on its way from Pesca to the eastern edge of the empire, where tensions still flared with the recently conquered Caldera Peoples. They were gathered around the billiard table, and when Davina sidled up, they were more than eager to show her their trick shots and brag about their new posting.
The group’s most senior officer was a young captain by the name of Duncan Sewell and he seemed as good a candidate as any for an evening liaison. Though Davina wondered if perhaps she’d spent too much time flipping through romance novels. Books like that always made military men out to be gallant gentlemen. But, from the moment she’d said hello, Sewell had done everything he could to get a hand around her waist.
Was that sort of thing appropriate in Balter? Davina hadn’t attended many parties anywhere. State functions in Halgyr were rare and ritualistic affairs, full of prescribed movements, dark cloaks and elaborate masks that kept even members of the court from knowing the identities of the royal family. There had hardly been opportunity for flirtation in that setting.
Here in Balter, there seemed to be no rules at all. Captain Sewell offered to teach her to play billiards, but even that turned into a ploy. The shape of the cue in her hands was unfamiliar, and every time she went to take a shot, he would come up behind her and try to place his hands over hers. “Let me help you!” he would say. And so, over and over, she’d been forced to knock him backward with her shoulder so she could try on her own. He made the whole experience rather tedious.
When she finally managed to sink one of the coloured balls into a pocket, all the soldiers whooped for her and Sewell squeezed her shoulder in a way that was too familiar. “I told you it wasn’t so hard!” he said. “You’ll be ready for trick shots soon.”
“No, I don’t suspect I will be.” Davina handed the cue back to him. She didn’t want to imagine what liberties he’d feel entitled to if she stayed for a full game. “I think I’d better turn in while I’m ahead.”
“Oh, you can’t leave.” Captain Sewell frowned at her.
“I’m afraid I have to. My brother is expecting me for supper.”
“Where?” The captain glanced around the carriage, clearly trying to suss out her lie.
“The dining carriage. Where else would he be?”
“Then let me walk you over.”
“I’m perfectly capable of finding it on my own.”
“Aw, be a sport.” said the captain, his men chuckling behind him as he leaned in yet again. “Or is there no one waiting for you in the dining carriage? Hmmm?”
Davina felt herself scowl. Who was this man to call out her lie? She’d tell as many as she bloody liked, and he was an idiot if he thought he could make her ashamed of herself for brushing him off. If this was what women’s liberation looked like in Balter, it was deeply disappointing. Why was she being forced to make excuses to a man she’d only met an hour earlier? Davina wished she could have told him exactly who she was—made him squirm with embarrassment when he realised he’d dared harass Princess Rochelle of Halgyr—but she bit back the ancient name. Even if the secrets her family kept frustrated her, this man certainly didn’t deserve to be the reason she broke her vows of silence.
As she tried to come up with some other way to put Captain Sewell off, a deep, rich voice materialised by her ear.
“There you are, sister! Have you any idea what time it is?”
An impatient finger tapped Davina on the shoulder, and she twisted around to find a strange man at her side. He scowled at her and pointed to his wristwatch with such fury that she was struck silent.
“And now I find you galivanting with soldiers,” he continued. “Father will not be pleased when he hears about this.”
Oh. Sister, Father. It wasn’t her he was trying to confuse, but Captain Sewell.
It would take an idiot to mistake this newcomer for any relation of hers. His hair was as dark as night and his eyes were ringed by the thickest lashes she’d ever seen. By the gods, he was prettier than her. She felt positively mousy standing next to him. But even if the physical difference between her and this man fooled the soldiers, the way she gaped at him—with her mouth half-open, like a dog salivating over its dinner—surely gave her away.
“I’m so sorry!” Whoever he was, he was offering her an escape. With some luck, Captain Sewell and his men would be too stunned to call out the ruse. “I really tried to get away—”
“Not fast enough.” He gestured for her to hurry out ahead of him. “Time is money, you know, and I can’t afford you wasting mine.”
“Do forgive me.” Davina rushed out of the smoking carriage, burying her face in her hands in what hopefully looked like remorse. In reality, she was struggling not to laugh. Maybe this man had a little sister of his own, because he sounded just like Kellen and Morel.
She raced down the length of the train, back to the passenger carriages, only stopping when she reached the door to her own compartment. By now, she couldn’t restrain herself any longer and she let herself laugh until her chest ached. A moment later, her rescuer caught up to her, a wide grin on his own face.
“Ah, there he is.” She gave him an exaggerated swoon. “My gallant hero.”
“Oh, hardly,” he laughed, though he clearly didn’t mind the attention.
She wondered how long he had watched her with the soldiers, waiting for a chance to insert himself. Or was she just flattering herself that someone so handsome might have been waiting for the chance to speak to her?
“You’re well then, miss? Our soldiers didn’t treat you too badly?”
“Our soldiers?”
“You’ll forgive me for pointing it out, but that’s quite the accent you have.”
His smile was too delightful. Really, he was as presumptuous as Captain Sewell, but Sewell didn’t have such adorable dimples in his cheeks.
“You could be from the northern caldera, though I’d guess… Halgyr?”
She nodded. “A clever guess. And you are?”
“Lord Carey the younger.” He gave her a small bow. “I take my father’s seat on the Lords’ Council next year.”
He spoke as though he were pitching himself to her, which perhaps he was. Clearly he’d saved her as much for his own benefit as hers, but, frankly, she didn’t mind if his motive was to spend time with her. This might be the adventure she’d dreamed of having in Balter. When would she get the chance to entertain a dashing young lord again?
“Well, Lord Carey, I’m in a bit of trouble,” she said at last. “I didn’t lie entirely. I am here with my older brothers, but they’re both busy with work. And if Captain Sewell sees me eating in the dining carriage alone, I can’t imagine how I’ll explain myself.”
He nodded solemnly. “I can offer you my services, though I’ll require something in return.”
Davina shivered as he stepped closer. Was she really any safer with this man than with the soldiers? “And what would that be?” she asked.
He lowered his head so that his breath tickled her ear, and her heart leapt. “I have a frightfully boring friend with me. You must help me survive dinner with him.”
* * *
As it turned out, Ambrose Carey was scheduled to have dinner with two other men and Davina could only guess at which of the pair was the bore. They both made decent candidates. One was a boisterous middle-aged man with a thick moustache who introduced himself as Lord Drawley, the most successful businessman on the Balterian Lords’ Council. In his own estimation, anyway.
The other didn’t introduce himself at all. He looked to be roughly Lord Carey’s age, though his pale face was lined with a weariness that made it difficult to be certain. His clothes were the only clue about his identity. He wore the vestments of the Order of Chanri, a faith older than Balter itself. Davina had met her share of adherents in Halgyr, but there was something strange about meeting a Balterian who followed a religion that was typically followed by the Caldera Peoples.
She nodded to both men as Carey pulled out a chair for her, and her eyes lingered on the young acolyte. “It’s good to meet you, Mediate.” Perhaps he would talk to her if she demonstrated she knew his proper title.
But he only furrowed his brow, forcing Carey to explain on his behalf, “Oh, Emeth’s not a full Mediate yet. Still got a few more years’ training.”
“Oh really?” Then he must be on the younger side of her estimates. “So, what brings your jolly trio together on this fine train?”
Lord Drawley laughed far harder than her question merited. “Ah, a woman who gets straight to the heart of the matter. I like that.”
“Business.” Carey’s reply hardly qualified as an answer and the wink he gave her seemed to say he knew as much.
“Oh, business? How very specific.” She arched a brow.
“I mean, there’s a, uh…” Carey began haltingly.
“We’re part of a delegation from the Lords’ Council,” said Drawley. “We’re setting up a new judicial office in Ealidor, which Lord Gamth will be directing. It’s about time that place had some law and order. You could ask him all about it. He’s seated with his mother at the back of the dining carriage.”
Davina nodded as if this satisfied her and sipped her wine. There was obviously some other reason for their trip beyond that, otherwise Carey wouldn’t have stumbled on his words. None of the three owed her an explanation about their plans, but so far it was all very typical. Men loved to keep her at an arm’s length, never letting her know exactly how they spent their time. It was like some desperate bid to make their work appear more interesting than it actually was.
Maybe it was better not to know. She could imagine a host of romantic options while never confronting the reality of who Carey was or why he’d taken an interest in her. That was the pleasant thing about a train. She wouldn’t know any of these people long enough for their lives to impact hers.
A first course of Pescan mussels in white wine sauce arrived and their party settled into the rhythm of suppertime chatter. Lord Drawley did most of the talking, often around a mouthful of the meal he should have been chewing. “Now that’s Lord Raxton. Military man,” he said, pointing at a broad-shouldered fellow who had taken up a table across the carriage. “Retired years ago, but there’re rumours the Council wants him to check out the situation to the west of Ealidor. Might be more trouble there than the papers let on.”
“Interesting. Miss Linde and I met some soldiers in the smoking carriage,” Carey said.
Davina coughed into her drink.
“Really? They say anything to you?” Drawley’s eyes lit up with interest.
“They seemed more invested in their billiards game, if you ask me,” said Davina. “Though I would be too, if this was my last chance to have a good time before getting sent to a foxhole.”
“Would you now?” Drawley shook his fork at her. “That fascinates me, miss. I can guess why everyone is on this train. All except you. Never dealt much with Halgyrics.”
A tender mercy for the people of Halgyr, Davina thought. She shrugged.
“Take Lodi Barnaka.” Drawley jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to indicate a woman in a hat festooned with enough feathers to fill an aviary. “Married five years ago, bloke dies six months later. There was a big tosh about it, since they had no heirs. Everyone thought she’d take his seat on the Lords’ Council. Another vote for women and all. Instead, she sold his title off to the highest bidder. Now you see her everywhere, spending the finos on whatever she fancies. What about you, Miss Linde? Got a story like that to share?”
“Oh, I wish I did. That’s what every woman wants, isn’t it? A dead, rich husband?”
Drawley broke into a deep belly laugh, while the silent, not-quite Mediate frowned, as if he worried she might be serious. Had the man taken a vow of silence or something? She’d never heard of such a thing in the Order of Chanri, but who knew? Morel had once told her the Balterians pecked at the stories of the old gods, only taking the bits that suited them, and remaking the legends to their likings.
The dinner conversation carried on in a similar manner for the next hour. Drawley would point out someone in the carriage, then regale the others with their history. This man had so little money, he was in danger of losing his title when fees were due next year. That woman was a famous dancer and acrobat, out on tour. And, judging by the uniforms, the pair at the back were army nurses, serving under Lord Raxton.
Davina wondered what Kellen and Morel would think if they found her seated with these strangers. Would they fly into a protective rage? But the threat posed by a handsome man like Carey might be blunted by the sight of his companions. Maybe Kellen and Morel would even be proud of her if she could report the gossip about troops moving around the Balterian Empire.
Would that make Kellen take her seriously? Actually, she bet she’d be rather good at politics. All that wining and dining and making people say things they shouldn’t—it would fit right into her skillset. Why couldn’t he see that? Even if her motives for wanting to stay in Balter weren’t terribly selfless, what did that matter if she did the job well?
“My apologies, friends. But I think it’s time for me to make a move.” Lord Drawley’s change in tone drew Davina back to the conversation. He threw his linen napkin onto his plate so it landed in the leftover gravy. “That Lodi Barnaka has too much money to her name. Maybe she’ll be interested in our venture.”
“But we have enough investors already, don’t we?” Carey twisted around in his chair as Drawley headed towards the back of the dining carriage.
“Lesson one about business, boy,” said Drawley as he threw them a parting wink. “You can never have too much capital.”
Davina let out a sigh of relief, but she was far from the only one pleased to see him go. As Lord Drawley passed beyond earshot, the sour-faced not-quite-Mediate straightened in his seat, looked Carey squarely in the eye, and uttered his first words of the evening. “I don’t like that man.”
“Yes, Emeth. We’ve established that.” Carey sighed, as if he were being dragged into an argument he’d had too many times already.
“Well, my opinion of him hasn’t improved, despite your promises. He has nothing to recommend him,” Emeth carried on. “No object other than profit. No scruples.”
“And no manners.” Davina lifted the napkin out of the gravy and tucked it to the side.
Emeth’s gaze snapped on her, his dark eyes surprising in their intensity. “Yes. Exactly.” He smiled, something Davina hadn’t imagined him capable of five minutes earlier, and immediately ten years seemed to melt off him. A crease in his lean cheeks highlighted the sharp line of his jaw and Davina felt the need to fidget with the napkins again. He wasn’t quite so handsome as Carey, but in that small change, he went from being a stone statue to a breathing man.
“Leave Drawley to me.” Carey’s voice pulled Davina’s eye back to him.
The young lord fronted confidence but, even in their short acquaintance, Davina could tell it was an act. Clearly, Carey was the glue that had brought this group together and he was nervous about everyone playing their prescribed roles.
“I know he isn’t the nicest sort, but he’s got a head for business. I won’t let him cross any lines if you just do your bit—”
“I’m here on this train, aren’t I? You don’t have to worry about my cooperation.” Emeth lined up his fork and knife so the waitstaff could collect the dishes. “I think I’ll retire. I’m missing the company of my books, and I don’t want to keep you from your charming partner.”
“Oh.” Davina had got so used to the presence of the other men, she’d completely forgotten that, ostensibly, she was here with Carey because he was attracted to her.
“To your health, Miss Linde.” Emeth raised the dregs of his wine in a salute.
She flushed, more flattered by the attention than she dared admit. For a brief moment, there were two young men smiling at her, until the quiet one stood up and left and she was alone with Carey. Instinctively, she searched the room for some sign of Kellen and Morel. Dinner wouldn’t look nearly so innocent now.
“I apologise for my companions,” Carey said. “But I did warn you.”
“Yes, you did.” Davina forced a laugh. His gaze felt so much more personal now than it had back when he’d rescued her from the billiards table. By Soloz, why was she letting him fluster her? She might lack experience in situations like these, but if there was one thing Davina prided herself on, it was her nerve. She had to reclaim it.
“Emeth at least means well,” he went on. “We’re old friends. Even before he took to the Order, he was like that. The poor man cares so deeply about everything, I don’t suspect anything satisfies him.”
“Oh, I didn’t mind him.” In fact, she found she liked Carey better for speaking well of his friend. They seemed so diametrically opposed—one the fine dandy, the other a sullen holy man. Taken apart, they were practically clichés, but together they gave her pause. Neither could be quite so shallow if they could see value in the other. “Was he highborn, then? You’ll forgive my prying, but with the rest of you being on the Lords’ Council—”
“Highborn?” Carey laughed outright. “That isn’t the half of it. Before he renounced his house for the Order, he was a bloody Trudane.”
“Oh!” Davina only knew a handful of names from the Balterian Lords’ Council. There were more than four hundred voting houses, so she could hardly be expected to keep track, but a few were so important and influential that they regularly appeared in the newspapers in Halgyr. Ignacious Trudane had been Overseer of the Lords’ Council for nearly ten years. In fact, now that she’d heard the name… “Wait, there was a big scandal, wasn’t there? Something about Lord Trudane’s son giving up his seat and—”
“Yes, that was Emeth.” Carey shook his head. “I don’t pretend I understand it, but part of me finds it admirable. He loved something enough to give up all this.” He gestured at the fine furnishings that enveloped them.
It really was incredible if she stopped to think about it. Here they were, travelling across the spine of the continent, yet they were never expected to go without silver goblets or shrimp cocktails. Just how much had this Emeth given up to follow Chanri? Balter was something of an oddity on Solozya, with its elected Overseer of the Council and inclination towards women’s liberation, but there were still plenty of obstacles to gaining power. The ruling lords only held onto their voting rights through exorbitant fees. Anyone who couldn’t afford to fund their family’s position swiftly lost it at auction when the payments that propped up the Balterian economy were due every five years. For the Trudanes to rise all the way to the position of Overseer, they must have had extensive holdings. Enough to buy up seats for their friends and influence the voting body. Davina couldn’t fathom renouncing such power.
She glanced towards the table where Lodi Barnaka, the rich widow Lord Drawley had wanted to ingratiate himself with, was seated. Every indulgence the kitchens could muster was spread out before her: Pescan oysters, asparagus dressed in brown butter sauce, and the best wine from Korio’s vineyards. Drawley wasn’t the only man of importance hanging off her. The conductor himself was taking dinner with her—or perhaps even serving her. Who knew the limits to what her money could buy? Yet still she struck Davina as woefully short-sighted. Who would willingly sell off a vote in government? Neither money nor faith seemed strong enough reasons to Davina. Though perhaps she was being ungenerous. Emeth’s decision surely spoke to a nobility of character.
That, or lunacy.
“You wouldn’t by any chance…” Carey broke the silence between them and Davina arched her brow, willing him to go on. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed. “By any chance… would you care to dance?”
“Dance?” At the back of the carriage a crystophone was playing a soft tune, but until now Davina had scarcely noticed the music. She turned in her seat and saw that a few couples were swaying on a small dance floor. She felt heat flood her cheeks as a yes and no warred inside her at the prospect. “I—I wish I could, but we don’t have the same dances in Halgyr—”
“Oh, I can teach you.” Emboldened, Carey rose from his seat. He proffered his hand, then drew it back just as suddenly, as if remembering the awkward situation he’d saved her from earlier. “Unless… I mean, it’s been a wonderful evening, but if you’re ready to turn in—”
“No.” The thought of being alone in her room was enough for her to make a choice. “If you can teach me, I’d love to dance.”
Carey’s face relaxed into his signature grin and she wondered why she’d ever doubted her answer. He led her past the dining tables until they reached the section cleared away for dancers, where one of the porters stood to attention next to the crystophone. Carey whispered something to the man and the porter nodded.
“We’ll happily play that song next, sir.”
Davina watched in amazement as the porter selected a new quartz crystal from his bag and prepared to swap it for the one currently spinning. How important did someone have to be to request a specific song? If she asked, would the porter oblige her too?
The new quartz began to spin and a trio of brass horns warbled out a dreamy ballad, setting the stage for a honeyed, female voice to join in.
I only know the song when I hear you play it.
I only know my name when I hear you say it.
Baby, won’t you whisper it to me?
Carey placed his hand gingerly against her waist. “This all right?”
“You can hold me a little closer than that,” she laughed. “I’ll need to follow your lead.”
“Right, of course.” His fingers strengthened against her spine and Davina swayed to the new rhythm. She smelled the piney notes of his cologne as he guided her into the first steps. “We begin on the left—well, my left, so your right. And it’s a sort of one, two, three pattern. Forward, side, back. Forward, side—” Just a few steps in and their feet were already tangled. “Oh, damn. I guess when I go forward, you’re supposed to go back. Sorry. Back, side, forward. Back, side…”
But Davina was laughing too much to heed his instructions anymore. “Oh dear, it seems you know this dance about as well as I do.”
“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Linde.” A flush darkened his cheeks.
“I’m not.” She inched closer to him, letting the warmth that emanated from his body seep into her. “I’m very glad I met you, Lord Carey.”
He smiled, those long, dark lashes sweeping not just over his cheeks, but through her heart. It was all too good to be true. The songs melted together as Davina grew sure of herself in his arms. Every so often, he would attempt to teach her another set of steps, and even though neither of them proved to be brilliant dancers, she never tired of trying with him.
She wasn’t aware of how long they spent together until a familiar voice drifted above the din of merrymakers into her ear. There was no mistaking her oldest brother’s accent in this sea of Balterian voices. “Fine, a four-year-old will do.”
Davina twisted out of Carey’s embrace, searching for Kellen. Sure enough, she spotted him standing next to the dining carriage’s bar, waiting for one of the bar staff to bring down a bottle of brandy. Should she dart out of sight while she still had the chance?
But a second later, Kellen glanced her way and waved clumsily. “Hullo, Davina!”
“What are you doing here?” It was such an infantile question, but all she could think of in this moment. He’d found her dancing with a strange man and now he would… wait, what was he going to do?
“Getting a drink.” He held up his new brandy bottle, as if that were explanation enough. His typically perfect hair was rumpled over his ears at odd angles and dark circles rimmed his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days. Yet she’d seen him perfectly collected just a few hours earlier.
The whole sight was so foreign that the truth refused to settle on her until she watched Kellen take a swig from his bottle without bothering to pour it into a cup first. “How much have you had tonight?” she demanded.
“Oh, this and that.” He shrugged and inclined his head towards Carey. “What about you? Looks like you’re having a good night.”
“Morel said you were working.”
“Yes. Heading right back to it now. Cheerio, Davina.” Kellen tipped his hat to her and hurried out of the carriage, brandy in hand, as if she were the one who had discovered some lurid secret about him. She’d spent so much time worrying that Kellen or Morel might catch her cavorting with Carey, but Kellen was too bloody drunk to care.
“Was that one of your brothers?” Carey’s hand on her shoulder dragged her back to her present circumstances.
“Ah, yes. Yes, it was.” She hoped Carey didn’t expect an explanation, because Davina didn’t have one. She’d never in her life seen Kellen drunk before. Not after state dinners, not even in the safety of a meal with his family. He was such a controlled, calculated man. Davina had assumed, until now, that he never gave in to excess that way.
“He’s a working man, then? I respect that.” Carey went on inconsequentially.
But Davina wasn’t listening to Carey. Kellen’s indifference should have been a relief. Wasn’t that what she’d always wanted? To be able to do whatever she pleased without the threat of someone shouting her down? If her father had walked in drunk to find his only daughter flirting with a foreign lord, she’d have been lucky to escape without a slap across the cheek. And yet, the incident nagged at her.
The selfish prick. The only reason she’d eaten dinner with strangers was because Kellen and Morel had been too busy with work. And yet here Kellen was, getting sloshed without her. If he wanted to spend his time grieving for their father and drinking himself into oblivion that was fine. But did he have to push her away to do it? Did he have to lie?
“I’m so sorry, my lord.” She turned back to Carey with a smile, well aware that if she lingered here much longer she’d spill a host of secrets that were no one’s business but her own. “I have a headache and need to retire.”
Carey nodded slowly. “I often have a headache when talking with my family too.”
“It isn’t that—”
But he didn’t force her to sustain the lie. “It’s no matter,” he said. “I’ll see you to your berth.” He lifted her hand and tucked it into his arm so he could escort her away.
He even kissed the back of her wrist as they said goodnight. It was all so perfect. And temporary.
She thought again of Kellen’s slack smile when he’d seen her dancing with Lord Carey. If that hadn’t bothered him, why in Soloz’s name was he keeping her from attending university in Balter? Had the alcohol exposed his true thoughts or just impaired his judgement? Perhaps she would be in trouble come the morning. Once he regained his senses.
Davina locked the door behind her when she entered her compartment. Morel was inside, a sheaf of papers spread over his lap, completely sober.
“You’re still working,” she blurted out at the sight of him.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes. “Did you get dinner? I wanted to come, but Kellen needs me to finish these letters before we reach the port.”
“Does he?” Davina didn’t bother hiding the disdain in her voice.
“I know. It’s too much, but he’s going to be king soon.” Morel shook his head wearily. “We all have to play our part.”
There were dozens of things she wanted to say in response to that. To begin with, the nonsense about playing a part only seemed to apply to a select few. Where were her assignments? She was far quicker at paperwork than Morel. Kellen could claim all he liked that she would play a meaningful role in court, but it was clear he didn’t give a shit about including her. And as for the urgency of their work, wouldn’t Morel love to hear how Kellen was currently spending his evening?
But if she told him, there might be follow-up questions. Revealing Kellen’s secrets would probably lead to him exposing her. And if dancing with Carey wasn’t a problem now, why go out of her way to make it one later? Morel disliked anything that reminded him she was now too old to wear her hair in plaits. There was no sense in giving him a reason to be upset. She could keep Kellen’s secret, and in return, maybe he would keep hers.
She might even be able to use this to argue her point. See how well I managed myself in Balter? See how I protected you? Why not let me be your eyes and ears in the embassy?
Davina settled to sleep that night, mind swirling with thoughts of Lord Ambrose Carey. Their liaison had been so pleasant, in part because it had all felt so transient. But what if that wasn’t true? She could still convince Kellen to send her to Balter. Even if it took blackmail.
One way or another, she was going to escape her family.
