Translator: Atlas / Editor: Regan
Raphael grabbed the man by the neck and dragged him toward the house like a ragdoll, without bothering to look back. Left alone, Eucaly bit her lower lip uneasily.
Raphael seemed sure she wouldnât run away, so sure that he didnât even bother to look at her, and Eucaly looked back furtively. Could she escape if she went out that door? No matter what she had done, she did not want to go back to that prison.
But Raphael stopped so suddenly, she froze. He did not look back, but she could sense the sudden change in his demeanor, as if he had eyes on the back of his head.
Eucalyâs fear was so great, her skin crawled, as if she had stepped in front of a hungry jungle beast. Instinctively she knew that he would absolutely catch her. If she took a single step to flee, he would be on her in the blink of an eye, and then she would be just like that man, lying limp on the ground.
Reluctantly, she followed him, giving up any hope of escape. There was nowhere in the world she could go to hide from her sins.
âOld man. Would you happen to know this guy?â
Raphael tossed a bound man at Hamiltonâs feet, and the older man frowned. He had been enjoying a quiet glass of wine.
âShit!â He exclaimed, with an agitated tug of his perfectly trimmed beard. âYou wonât bring gifts when you come visiting other peopleâs homes, but you will bring this?â
âDonât talk nonsense, why would I give you a gift? Take a look at this guyâs face.â
Lounging comfortably on the couch, Raphael stretched out an arm to lift the unconscious manâs head, and Hamilton peered at his face.
âTurn his head. No, not that way, the other way.â
Raphael obeyed, and the man let out a groan of pain, as if his head might separate from his neck. Behind his ear, Hamilton spotted the small tattoo.
âHe belongs to the Shadow,â he said. âHeâs one of the Kingâs secret agents. But heâs not anyone important.â
âAnother little fish?â Raphael asked. âIâd like to get a little higher up the food chain.â
âThatâs not too hard. That guy will know how to contact other agents, and you know how to make him spit it out even better than I do, donât you?â Hamilton asked.
As the bound man belatedly recognized Hamilton, he tried to shout through his gag. Raphael kicked him in the thigh.
âWhat the hell did he say?â He asked, frowning.
âI could guess. He might have called me a traitor,â Hamilton said, shrugging. When he had worked for the King, he was used to being a ghost and making out the words of people who had their mouths gagged.
The man twitched in frustration at Hamiltonâs disinterest, and Raphael hit him to make him lie still.
There was a crunching noise, and the man went limp, as if he had been struck by lightning. Hamilton clicked his tongue.
âHow could I betray my king for an impatient fellow like you? All I wanted was to retire and have a comfortable life. This mess is all your fault, simpleton.â
Raphael plucked the wine glass from Hamiltonâs hand and drained it in one gulp.
âWhat good are two old men to each other? When you get so old you need someone to wipe your ass, the Crown Prince will owe you a nurse. Think of it as an investment in your future.â
Hamilton threw his cane at the impertinent young manâs head, and Raphael ducked it easily, laughing. Their bickering was old and comfortable, like a father and son.
Though he tormented Hamilton, Raphael was sincerely grateful. Hamiltonâs decision to choose him rather than the King had made all of this much easier. His goal was to collect one agent after another, who would later serve as witnesses.
He could probably do it before the banquet.
Raphael was more determined than ever, now that he had found the person he wanted to protect.