Eloise IX: In the Panther’s Den

“...To my faithful tailor Horatio, I leave the contents of my wardrobe, along with any other garments gathered by my estate.” Cynette Fields paused in her reading, waiting for an acknowledging nod from Jacques’ white-haired clothier, then continued. “To Ms. Marie Sunderland, I leave my two ships, Luminous and Cast in Wax, and such crewmates as remain contracted to serve aboard them. I hope that you and Jim can enjoy serene trips out on the water as much as I have come to.”

Eloise could see Ms. Sunderland narrow her eyes at that, which was fairly understandable given the fact that the Cast in Wax had sunk recently after a boiler explosion on a nearby ship tore through its hull. That, and she probably had her eyes on the largest prize.

“My jewelry I leave to Gérard Dupris, the best styled of my associates by far. I hope you can don my rings and think of me for many years to come, Anoeuf. Though I leave it to your possession to do with as you please, I will note that my Year 98 Porte Lumière Commerce Award is meant to be mounted and admired from afar, rather than worn on your person. Knowing my feelings towards the city of my birth, I trust that you will treat it with the same respect I would.”

Anoeuf cracked a smile at that, most of the room along with him. Jacques had indeed made his feelings towards “that hole I crawled my way out of” quite clear, and it would probably bring him no small amount of pleasure from inside his mahogany box to see Anoeuf maintaining that disrespect long after his death.

For the first time, it felt like coming to this reading might not have been a mistake.

“Eloise, you were far from the first to fall for Robin’s charms in the throes of youth, but it warmed my heart to see you come to your senses and return home.” Great fucking start, you condescending ass. “In the time since then, you’ve returned to your role without the slightest decline in ability, pushed forward innovative ideas and partnerships, and conducted yourself with decorum and aplomb.” The solicitor paused again, setting the document down on the desk in front of her.

Alright, the end kind of saved it. Really, it was hard to be too mad at him considering he was dead, and Eloise couldn’t rightfully call her hands clean in the matter. It didn’t mean she’d turn down any money he left her, not when that could provide such a useful fresh start, but the whole thing still felt a bit wrong.

“To you, my one true heir and successor, I leave my ownership stake in Clochaîne Candles, my rental properties in the city, such funds as remain in my estate once all other bequeathments have been dispersed, and all other assets and properties yet unaccounted for in this reading. I offered you my name once and you declined, but now again I leave to you the name Clochaîne. I hope you have more tact than to disregard a dead man’s wishes. I ask only that you continue my work and further my legacy.”

“Oh,” Eloise said quietly. Or extremely wrong, as the case may be.

Fields was glaring at her with stern eyes, which didn’t necessarily mean much considering how often she just looked like that, but Anoeuf and Sunderland put no effort into hiding their bewildered distaste. Even Jacques’ old manservant looked a bit put out, and he was set to walk out of here with ten thousand mandala.

“That concludes the reading of Jacques Clochaîne’s final testament,” Ms. Fields said, shooting Eloise a raise of the eyebrows that elegantly communicated, Good luck; you’re on your own. “As his estate’s executor, I will see to the disbursement of the assets. For obvious reasons, you can expect substantial delays for any of his property currently outside easy reach of Malin. Ms. Sunderland, I’m given to understand that Cast in Wax was insured for up to seven hundred thousand mandala, which will be made available to you as soon as the funds are disbursed. With that, I leave you to your mourning.”

Fields wasted no time making her exit, as did most of Jacques’ household service, but the lieutenants of his other business lingered. And why wouldn’t they?

Eloise gripped her cane tightly, as if it would be enough to fend anyone off. As if I’m not a juicy, easy target. The cuts were mostly healed, but her ankle still kept her awake at night, courtesy of fucking Mince, a horrible irritation even dead.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Clochaîne.”

Eloise clenched her teeth, turning around to tell this presumptuous well-wisher exactly what she thought of that fucking name—

Leclaire.

Khali’s curse, the disrespect. Not that Eloise usually cared too much about that, but crashing the testament reading of a man whose throat you sliced open? “Wow. You’ve got a really respectful way of grieving, Leclaire.”

She was wearing white in the Avaline fashion, at least, a modest woolen dress under a thick green shawl, though considering her role in making this event happen, it was impossible to ignore the air of mockery to it. Combined with her weird brown and blue hair, she was a mess that somehow almost worked anyway.

“This is in poor taste, I know, but I needed to talk to you.”

“Oh, did you?” Eloise hissed. “Well, the departure ceremony for the man you murdered certainly seems like an appropriate venue. Shall I stab that tall man with the tray of hors d'oeuvres, just to make sure the blood is fresh?”

Leclaire shrugged. “Do as you like, but listen to me first.”

“As long as you speak up. I want to make sure the whole room hears you bragging about what you did to the man they’re here to mourn.”

“Mourn?” Leclaire let out the slightest laugh, tempered by the mood of the room. “They’re vultures picking at his corpse. Every single person is here because they want something.”

“Except for you, of course.”

The noblewoman suppressed a smile, as gone almost as fast as it arrived. But it was there. “I was actually going to say ‘except for you’, as it happens.”

“Oh, empty flattery, how wonderful.”

“Well, it’s true that I can’t know it for sure, but—Look, can we talk outside? I’d rather not have to whisper around the important things.”

Eloise shrugged. “I’m not sure I want everyone to see me leaving with you. They might get the wrong idea.”

With a hand to her face, Leclaire sighed. “The suspicions were already there from his testament. My being here doesn’t make anything worse. No one knows but you.” Her voice trailed into a whisper by the end, breathy words hanging off red lips.

“That too.” Ugh, fuck it. “Wait by the Sartaire. I’ll come find you.” Eventually.

“You’re just going to have me stand around out in the snow?”

“Or go home. I don’t care.” Eloise grinned as she shouldered past her. By the time she reached the far wall, Leclaire was gone.

It wasn’t hard to guess what she wanted, since she’d already alluded to it during the coup. Staying here, running things, partnering with the administration… Dancing to her whims until the time came to be discarded.

“My condolences, Eloise.” Ms. Sunderland appeared before her, holding out a steaming cup of tea. She too was dressed all in white, but carried with her an austere dignity that Leclaire, for all her pretentious, had utterly lacked. Perhaps it was her age.

“And mine to you.” Eloise took the offered tea. “Who’s Jim, by the way?”

“My husband, though I don’t expect he’ll be going on any pleasure cruises anytime soon, since he passed away last year. Jacques must not have thought to update that part of his will.”

Eloise shrugged. “A personal slight against you, no doubt. It couldn’t just be that he didn’t want to contemplate his death.”

“And yet your portion was written quite recently. Otherwise you still would have been considered… absent. How thoughtful of him.”

“I didn’t—”

“Listen here, girl. I’m not one for sentiment. Jacques had his time. I don’t know how you got the solicitor on your side or the witch in your pocket, but it doesn’t matter. Official assets are one thing, but there’s other business that’s relevant here.”

“It’s one and the same,” Eloise countered, not really sure why she was pressing the point. “The whole point is profit, everything else is secondary to that. Jacques knew it when he pivoted, after darkness fell. Official and legitimate business pays more, especially now. That’s all.” That felt true to Jacques, at least, even if Eloise half felt like she was lying in saying it.

Sunderland sipped her tea. “Very well. Yes, it’s related. Clochaîne Candles is crucial, on all levels of business. But have you thought this through? You’re a bookkeeper, not a leader, and hardly inspiring to those around you. We should take care not to forget what happened last time you assumed command.”

Is she talking about captaining that ship? How would she know? Eloise folded her arms. Either way, fuck you. “You’re a follower too. Aranea’s never would have happened without Jacques footing the bill for startup costs, nor would it have persisted without continued payments.”

I ran the numbers myself, when Jacques was worried you’d try to split off and make a go of it on your own. Taken on merit alone, they were losing money even before darkness fell and everyone had to stay inside to keep warm.

“Truly, his absence is a hole that cannot be filled.” Sunderland sipped her tea. “However, we must do our best. With that in mind, I would like to make you an offer: Four million mandala for the business, with the understanding that this would also mean ownership of the business. I won’t tell anyone about Claude, or your role in what happened to Jacques. You and Margot can start fresh, wherever you want, unburdened by all of this.”

“Coppers for gold.” The candle business alone was worth ten times that.

“If I had enough to pay fairly for everything Jacques had, I wouldn’t have been subordinate to him in the first place. It’s the most I can spare. More to the point, it’s enough to live on forever. If you go south into the continent, it’s worth almost double in florins. You’ll never have to work another day in your life.”

You don’t have to either, and yet here you are.

“Someone already tried to kill you with one of those stolen weapons. It’s not safe for you here. Just think about that. That money is more than enough to reinvent yourself. From accounting to piracy and back again, I know that must appeal to you.” She smiled, gave an awkward pat on the shoulder, then took her leave.

Fuck. The pain in her ankle was getting worse, but sitting down would be a sign of weakness, in this crowd especially.

For the first time in a while, Eloise felt herself thinking about Florette, what it might have been like to flee the city with her instead of staying. Sunderland was offering something similar now, assuming it was even possible to get out, though there wouldn’t be any partner for company, nor any real adventures with a child in tow. Margot wouldn’t be able to stay in the Master’s School by the ferry, but there were other opportunities. The world’s a big place.

Yet somehow I always end up back where I started. Even doing the right thing hadn’t been enough, or it hadn’t been the right thing. Either way, just more of the same.

I already tried running away, and it got me nowhere. Sunderland knew that too, or she wouldn’t have spent her entire life in two cities. And it’s probably been decades since she’s seen Fortescue, either.

Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing, having an excuse to get out of there. If nothing else, Leclaire’s pitch would be something new.

She was bent over the railing above the river, resembling an illicit engraving in pose if not in dress, bundled under a mismatched coat and hat. “Oh good, you came.”

Exhaling lightly through her nose, Eloise stepped up next to her spot overlooking the river. “Well?”

Leclaire took a deep breath, then began. “When I was fifteen, a girl came up from Torpierre to be one of my ladies-in-waiting. Good family, sage to an ancient and venerable spirit, everything you could ask for. Even at that age, she was already a warrior, which endeared her to Lucien nicely. They held a spar not two days after she arrived, and while he carried the set, she did manage to take the first match off of him. None of us could do that then, and I doubt many could now. He’s a peerless swordsman, and well-practiced at fighting sages.”

“Ah yes, what an excellent offer. I think I’ll take you up on that!”

“I’m illustrating a point. If you wouldn’t mind, just—”

“Fine.” It’s not like I have anywhere to be.

“Then she challenged me, and… It was humiliating. She had me pinned down inside of a minute in the first match, and the next two went even faster. I never landed a scratch on her.”

“I’m listening. In fact, if you have any other stories about getting beaten up…”

Leclaire rolled her eyes and continued as if Eloise hadn’t said anything. “By the rules we agreed to, it was fair play. She hadn’t done anything wrong, really. But it rankled, feeling so helpless, seeing her acting so smug about it.”

Eloise nodded. “So you resolved to be the champion of arrogance, so thoroughly smug that none could ever deny your title.”

That got a chuckle out of her. “It’s a contentious title. I just got out of a meeting where Anya Stewart had her ship confiscated and was sentenced to exile, and she still had this look on her face as if everything was going to plan. Even her son forsook—Anyway, I was a petty girl, and I didn’t like to be upstaged. So I said a few words in the right ears, and eventually her parents had her sent home.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Honestly, I’d mostly put it out of my mind until the start of this spring. Lumière was trying to push my people out, and I needed any kind of in with the Sun Temple that I could find. I was running down the list with my friend and we realized that there wasn’t a single person there that didn’t hate me. Much of that was on Lumière, but Laura was completely my fault. I turned an ally into an enemy, and I did it for practically no reason. I’d like to think I’ve learned from that, at least a bit.”

“You haven’t, sorry.” Eloise folded her arms. “Rambling on, refusing to get to the point… Why, it makes me want to challenge you to a duel and shoot you, or throw you into the sun, or whatever that guy really did to you.”

“It was the pistol, and I think you know that.” Leclaire bit her lip. “Look, my point is that we’ve been… tense, with each other. Acrimonious. And there’s no need for it when we’re on the same side. I think maybe I was carrying a grudge on Florette’s behalf, or… I don’t know. But that’s not how I want to do things. I’m not a child anymore.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” You really made up a whole story just to pretend you’re someone you clearly aren’t?

“I want you to take over Clochaîne’s operations, yes, but I really want you as an ally. How do you like the sound of Lady Eloise Clochaîne?”

It viscerally disgusts me, thanks.

“You’d have your first pick of liberated lands, even Onès if you truly insist.”

“What on earth makes you think I need to sell myself for that? I just inherited the wealthiest largesse in the city.”

“Because of me.”

“Ok, don’t push your luck. Jacques… He had his issues, but apparently in the end he actually cared. I wouldn’t have thought either, but… You don't get extra points for killing him.”

“Of course. And I really am sorry for your loss. Even if he would have killed you and sold out Malin if he’d been allowed to live, you’re allowed to be sad about it.”

Am I sad? It didn’t seem like the right way to feel, not when the best way to honor Jacques’ philosophy was valuing the benefit above everything else. No one else seemed to care, though Captain Verrou probably would whenever he eventually heard the news. Even Ms. Sunderland hadn’t really cared, all but told Eloise that her anger at his death could be dismissed for a price.

Is that what I’m signing up for if I take over his business? Dying unmourned and alone, just like that spirit warned me about? Or is that what happens if I cut and run yet again? Life’s supposed to move forward, yet somehow I always end up circling back.

“I’m not the same whore for prestige that you’re used to dealing with. Lands with annual incomes less than what the business makes in a month, and a title binding me to etiquette and rules?” Eloise shook her head. “More to the point, you don’t really have anything to offer me that Luce couldn’t. All I’d need to do is take a meeting.” And then he’d laugh me out of the room because apologizing doesn't even come close to making up for kidnapping him, but it’s always good to mention an alternative in a negotiation.

If that’s even what this is.

“As long as he’s still in power. That time could well be drawing to a close. I still don’t know the exact words you swore to him before Cya, but if you told me, my guess is that there’s a way out. Luce would hardly be an expert in crafting perfectly binding—”

“Khali’s curse, there was no oath! I didn’t swear anything, because you’d have to be an idiot to make a promise to a spirit that can suck your soul into eternal servitude for breaking it. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Ah.” Leclaire tilted her head back again, biting her lip. “How do you think this ends for him?”

“Well, if you have it your way, probably your knife at his throat, same way you did Jacques.”

“I don’t want to kill him. Honestly, all things considered, I like him. His heart’s in the right place. But he wants to do what Avalon’s already doing, only smarter and better. He’s still a tool of their control.”

“And you work for him.”

“For now. But… Do you want Malin to be under their boot forever?”

“Oh, definitely. I love the taste of leather soles. That’s me. In fact I love Avalon so much, I spent years robbing their ships and selling their technology to their enemies.”

Leclaire rolled her eyes. “So you would want Malin liberated, yes? Maybe even the other territories eventually, but this place is as much your home as it is mine.” She swept her hand out over the water, though it didn’t move in response. “How do you think that ends for Luce?”

“I…”

“The fact is, at some point, it’s liberation or him. And I don’t know exactly what you two went through together in Refuge, but I know what this occupation has done to your family, and thousands of families like it. I know what freedom means to you, when you spent years traveling the winds without anyone to tell you what to do. What happened to the revolutionary pirate willing to sell me the pistols you and Florette stole to help tear Avalon down? Who assassinated the governor in his own train?”

“Florette did that all on her own, actually.” Idiot. “She was always doing stuff like that.”

“Well, I hope the point still stands.” Leclaire paused, looking out over the water. “Luce belongs in Avalon, helping them sort their own shit out without being in the line of fire here. I don’t want him dead, not in two days, not in two years, and not in two decades. I even hope he outlives me, for as little as that’s worth. You have my word, and I’ll swear it before the spirits if you wish.”

“As if that means anything. You’ve been weaseling through contracts with them since you were… What did you say, fifteen?”

“Seven, actually. I made my pact the day of the Foxtrap.”

Khali’s curse, no wonder you’re so fucked up. “Speaking of, did I ever tell you that it was one of your mom’s guards that bashed my dad’s head in? Not enough room on the boats, apparently. That’s why he doesn’t speak.”

The sage buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I think… I think the fifteen-year-old me had a lot more in common with her than I do even now. Maybe.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. She bit it the same day too, right?”

“Yes.”

While my mom didn’t die for another decade, sentenced to death for trying to protect a child. That hadn’t been some unique cruelty from Captain Whitbey, or the governor’s whims. The punishment for rebellion was death. That was just as true in any territory, even in Avalon itself.

It’d be easier to pretend if I hadn’t been to so many places, seeing the same shit everywhere. “Always fucking going in circles,” Eloise muttered, feeling the chill of the wind on her face. “Let me think about it?”

“Of course. But we don’t have long before we miss our greatest window of opportunity. I need your answer within the day, as soon as you can manage.”

“And if I say no? Just walk away and start over somewhere else?”

Leclaire dipped her head. “Then I’ll wish you and Margot well, and proceed without you.”

And if I warn Luce? Eloise didn’t voice the thought. She knew what Leclaire would say, anyway.

Then you’re only delaying the inevitable.

≋

“Can I go now?”

“No.”

Margot paused, visibly counting to ten on her fingers. “How about now?”

“No.” Eloise turned to the next page of the ledger Ms. Fields had given her, laying out everything she was set to inherit. Profits had only grown with every month of darkness, despite the inferior formula, despite a massive shortage of laborers, despite… fucking everything. This was set to be the best year for Clochaîne Candles ever.

Sunderland really low-balled me. Honestly, it's kind of insulting. Though she had a point that four million was plenty to live on for three people, and giving up the responsibility was arguably worth a lot on its own. Just cut and run again, reinvent myself and hope it doesn’t all come crashing back to the start anyway, the way it has every time so far.

“Please?”

Eloise sighed. “Some shit’s about to go down. Just because you lucked your way out of being a target last time doesn’t mean you should take stupid risks now. You’re going to be here for at least another few days. Deal with it.”

Margot groaned, leaning back against the wall.

Admittedly, there hadn’t been time to get Margot’s things from the house before taking her to this apartment from Jacques’ bequeathment. But everyone knew she lived there, which meant risk. Mince had already known enough to stage an ambush, and there were plenty of smarter enemies who could do worse.

Honestly, even this wasn’t ideal, since Fields at minimum knew about it, but Jacques owned so many empty buildings in the city that sticking to one meant that any enemies still had a big field to work their way through. And this time I’m not leaving her here alone.

Not Dad either. Yse was even keeping him company in the other room, staying close in case anything happened. He really stepped up, Eloise thought with a glance towards the door, and it’s not like I gave him much incentive to.

“It’s not like there’s anything to do out there, anyway. It’s so cold you’re stuck in the tunnels or bundled into a puffy boulder barely capable of moving.”

“You’re a puffy boulder barely capable of moving.”

Impossible not to crack a smile at that. “Juvenile, but sound. I’d rate it at about seventy percent.”

Margot tilted her head, mulling it over, then nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Great, now I can sleep at night.”

“So is Camille your new girl?”

“What? No.” She was so dense she couldn’t even pick up on what I meant by offering to buy her a drink, back in Guerron. “Definitely not.”

“She walked you home. You plotted together during that coup. I don’t know. It’s not a ridiculous question.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Just because, if so, I mean, talk about trading up. I mean, do you remember Jeanne? Or Clarisse?”

“I try not to.”

“Or, Yse said that Florette lady that got Claude in trouble was another one.”

“That’s over now.”

“So she was?”

Eloise slammed her book shut. “You know how I love to talk about this stuff with you, but I’m afraid I actually have to change the subject.”

“As long as it’s not about my studies.”

“No.” She set the ledger aside and beckoned Margot to sit on the bed next to her. “I just got an offer from Ms. Sunderland. A substantial one, but it would mean leaving Malin.”

“No! You can’t go again, you just got here!”

“Does it matter that much to you? You didn’t seem very happy to see me. You were clawing at the walls just a minute ago, trying to get away.”

“Well, it’s not like I care or anything. Just, you know... Don’t do it.”

Khali’s curse, it’s like looking in a mirror.

“I wouldn’t leave you again. You’d be coming with me. Dad too.”

Margot’s eyes widened. “So my life here would just be over? I have friends here. Eustace’s dad just lost his job, he’s been a total wreck. They’re trapped here and can’t get back to Avalon. Or Jasmine—Her grandmother just died, and now she’s been stuck inside all this time…”

So caring for your friends. Eloise couldn’t help but smile. Nothing like me, then.

Good.

“We’d find a new school. You’d make new friends.”

“They wouldn’t be the same! And what about me? I’ve got connections here. Camille even offered me a stage apprenticeship in the Governor’s mansion. Shit, what about you? I’m not the only one who missed you. Are you just going to abandon Yse again? Right after Mr. Jacques died too. And Claude…”

Am I?

“Where do you even want to go, anyway?”

“Probably Île Dimanche, once the ships get going again. A little snake told me we’re not far from the sun’s return, so—”

“So still in Avalon control.”

“Well, it’s like you said about connections. There’s stuff with Luce, and…” And if I leave, I’m giving up. If I’m giving up, I’d rather not put roots down in a country that could be occupied in a few years. That was the issue going south, really, that and staying in Leclaire’s sphere of influence. “I’m not set on any particular place.”

“So you just want to cut and run again. For its own sake.” Theatrically, Margot sighed, whirling her arms back as she collapsed onto the bed. “What happened to doing the right thing?”

“It didn’t really work out that way. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just not for me.”

Margot nodded. “Knowing yourself is important. More important than following some stupid rules, or meeting people’s expectations.”

“Nice try, but I’m not letting you sell that stuff again.”

That earned her a glare, but whatever. She was fourteen, she would be moody. And because I don’t have parents for it, it’s my problem.

“When you said that, I thought you meant doing something bold! Revolutionary, maybe. You know, pulling the stick out of your ass.”

“I’m a fucking pirate. There’s no… Look, the revolution thing, maybe it’s not about being effective. It’s about what it means for who I am. Do I want to be a piece of shit that screws over my friends?”

“You don’t have friends.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “Love you.”

For some reason, Margot sat up at that. It wasn’t like it was anything remarkable.

Except… When was the last time I said that to her?

“Just, please don’t go. Please don’t make me go.”

≋

It felt wrong, gathering everyone in the back room of Clochaîne Candles without the eponymous man, like someone had cut a hole in the room at the head of the table.

Because Leclaire did, and I’m complicit.

Eloise sat down in Jacques’ spot, Ysengrin at her right.

As Sunderland, Anoeuf, and the rest filed in, they took their seats starting at the far end, eventually leaving the chair to Eloise’s left empty. An auspicious start.

Eloise took the opportunity to open the meeting, standing from her seat. “We’ve suffered enormous blows these past few months. Product lines running dry, supplies cut off, what happened to Mince, and… Jacques. Especially Jacques. No one should die alone in the street like that. Absolutely cold-blooded.” Eloise hardened her gaze, showing not the slightest weakness in this room of killers with ample reason to want her dead. “I know what you’re all thinking, so I won’t waste any time. I’m responsible.”

Anoeuf pulled back from the table, muttering something to Sunderland as his posture stiffened.

“On the eve of the late Lady Perimont’s coup, Jacques was keenly aware of the issues the new government could pose, but the opportunities as well. Concessions, in exchange for cooperation. For as friendly as Avalon has been to our business interests, he well knew that there’s always an opportunity for more.” Probably true, which helps sell the lie. Sunderland didn’t speak up to contradict anything, either, which seemed to support that. “He and Perimont had already worked out the details before the Convocation of Commerce was to convene and hear her offer, but appearing and supporting her in person could have helped win over any uncertain owners.”

Eloise paused, staring each of them down in turn and daring them to contradict her. “The Prince of Darkness had other plans. He called a last-minute meeting and compelled Jacques to attend, leaving me as his proxy for the Convocation. On the road to the Governor’s mansion, his carriage was attacked and Jacques was killed. Had I met with Luce instead, Jacques would be the one sitting here, mourning my death.”

I’m sorry, Luce, but what’s the alternative? I’m done running in circles, and I can’t cut Margot loose from everything she knows or she’ll end up like me. For Eloise, for her family, staying was the right choice. And for everyone else?

As long as Avalon ruled over Malin, there would always be another Whitbey, another Perimont. I lost my resolve for so long, and Jacques never had any, but now there’s a real chance to actually do the right thing. I can’t let sentiment get in the way of that.

“We won’t let him get away with it,” she finished, sealing her fate. “Anoeuf, have your hitters gather at the Fuite mouth of the tunnels this time tomorrow. Yse, take everyone who worked for Mince and see that they’re armed and ready, too. They’re yours now. Leclaire will meet us there with pistols and soldiers of her own.”

“And then?” Sunderland asked, apparently content to go along with this.

“And then we throw him an anniversary party. What do you think? We ransom him back to his daddy for a fat sack of cash. That’s the revenge that’s truest to the Clochaîne spirit.” Eloise folded her arms. “You all have your orders.”

The entire room nodded in sync, just as they had for Jacques so many times before.

“Dismissed.”