The next morning, David cursed with every step he took on the way to his office. The cut on his face had swollen so much it was like a shadow at the bottom of his vision, smarting when he spoke or chewed, and every other part of his body ached, too. He’d put on some fresh bandages on the injuries on his arm and ribs, but they still burned with every movement.

When he got to the hallway with his office, the door stood open. David sighed and reached for his pistol. Today, he was properly armed.

So of course, it was just George Louis sitting in his chair behind the still messed up desk. One of Grooch’s underlings was nervously flitting around the room collecting papers of the ground and putting them back where they belonged. Grooch was nowhere in sight.

“Put that away,” George Louis grumbled when he noticed leaning David in the doorway. The undersecretary jumped and almost dropped his papers when he saw David.

“I’ll – ah, you lordship, I’ll just –“

David stepped fully into the room to let the man squirrel out behind him. When he heard the door close behind him, he asked: “What are you doing here?”

The duke looked around the trashed room, then shook his head at him. “You are such a lucky idiot, do you know that?”

David seriously considered shooting him for the condescending tone alone. “What, for not getting killed by deVale? Or for having my office searched?”

“For this!” George Louis held out a slip of paper like it was a dagger.

David didn’t move. “What is that?”

“It’s a telegram. Read it!”

There was something in his tone – almost a hint of hysteria – that made David step forward and take the piece of paper. It was from First Camp.

“Received orders from palace to kill werewolf STOP

Seal was fake STOP

Repeat: Seal was FAKE STOP

Advising all werewolf commanders to check seals carefully STOP

Ignore false orders STOP”

“They stole your seals,” George Louis growled, as soon as David lowered the paper. “I have no idea how First Camp figured that out, but they stole your damn seals, wrote fake orders, and took the evening trains to Eoforwic, Deggan, and Breachpoint. I cannot believe you didn’t even check where your seals are!”

“I don’t use them,” David replied. He handed the telegram back, and picked something out of the mess on the desk. The crossbow bolt he had been using all the time. “Here, this is my seal. I’ve been using it since Oldstone Castle.”

George Louis frowned. “But – why? I know you had proper seals made, I had them ordered!”

“They weren’t right,” David shrugged. “They looked nothing like this and I didn’t want to bother to inform the commanders I was in contact with about the change. It didn’t seem that important, since I did have something else.”

Even Grooch had been fine with him using the tip of the quarrel.

George Louis stood up and grabbed the crossbow bolt out of his hand, glanced at it. “This?” He threw it back into the mess on the table. “A kid with a beet could fake that!”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

David shrugged. “Seems to have stymied whoever did this. Which werewolf?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, you said this telegram was sent sometime last night. Don’t pretend you haven’t had your men follow up on this. Which werewolf did they want dead?”

“The name was Calder.”

“No wonder Captain Reed was suspicious. Calder isn’t even stationed at First Camp. If I had wanted him dead, I’d have sent a message to Midway Camp. Who else?”

“Bernadette and Dale.”

“I see,” David muttered. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Really? What makes these three special?”

“Nothing. But they were the ones who transformed under Morgulon’s influence at Oldstone Castle on New Moon. Whoever is behind this must have had some information about the battle, but not the understanding to target a really powerful werewolf.”

He’d have to send a message to Brines right away, just in case they did know about Morgulon. Could he have someone check on Fenn?

He took a deep breath. “Any idea who did this?” he asked.

George Louis shrugged. “Someone who wanted to sow distrust between you and the werewolves?”

David raised his eyebrows at him. “Oh, really. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“It wasn’t me, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, actually.”

That was the truth. David was fairly certain that if George Louis was going to betray the werewolves, it wouldn’t be until they had won the war. George Louis frowned, though.

“And where did that change of opinion about me come from?”

David shrugged. He considered telling the truth, but then he said: “I met your wife.”

He probably wouldn’t get a better opening to cut to that topic.

George Louis went very still. “You – met Annabelle? Where?”

“She was one the werewolves who saved the Savre Camp. You could’ve talked to her had you stayed a little longer. Currently, she’s at Brines.”

“Of course she is.”

“Does your son know that his mother is a werewolf? Because she wants to see him.”

“And why would I tell him that?”

“I was just wondering, given his eagerness to meet a werewolf.”

“You’ll bring her here?”

“Yes,” David said. He expected George Louis to argue, but he barely even blinked.

“I suppose she would be counted as an elder, wouldn’t she?” the duke asked after a moment.

“Barely, but yes,” David shrugged.

He glanced over to the duke again, but George Louis had his lips pressed together, as if he wanted to stop himself from saying anything more.

“We need a better description,” David went on, just to fill the stretching silence. “To differentiate between those who can deal with a brute without trouble, and those who can transform on new moon. Starting around the same age, they seem to gain a fighting chance of surviving an encounter with a Rot-queen...”

David trailed off. “But that’s something for the scientists to worry about, I suppose.”

He picked the crossbow bolt up from the table again, played with it for a moment. Should he apologize now for blaming George Louis for Annabelle’s death? He rolled the quarrel between his fingers and decided against it.

“Is there anything else you needed? I need to warn my family that someone might come after Morgulon.”

He needed to write to Captain Reed, too, to thank him for warning the other commanders. If whoever was behind this had succeeded—even if David would have been able to convince the other werewolves that he hadn’t ordered those three elders killed—they would still be dead. How could he expect the werewolves to trust him if he couldn’t keep them safe from intrigues like this?

“We need to figure out how to prevent this in the future,” George Louis said.

“I’m all ears if you have any ideas.”

How was he supposed to prevent this level of intrigue in the future? Whoever had done this wouldn’t make the same mistake twice; if they tried again, they would surely make sure they got the right “seal.”

The only solution he could think of was to keep them on his person at all times.

“I’ll walk with you,” George Louis said. “We’ll have to discuss the matter with Duke Desmarais. And you have to talk to Count deVale, David. Set the matter straight with him. Ideally in the next couple of days, while he can’t assault you. Maybe he will tell you who put him up to this in the first place. Take that bloody bolt with you,” he added.

He shuddered when David pocketed it, and complained: “I can’t believe we seriously got saved by your refusal to do things properly.”

“You could have hired someone for this job who actually knows the palace,” David pointed out. “Like Lane, for example.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” George Louis claimed.

David was fairly sure that Lane would have done a much better job at handling the political side of this job. He couldn’t wait for her to get here so he could just ask her for help, rather than sending letters back and forth.

He had to get Pierre and pack to come to Deva.