Page 60 of Ashen Torment

“Who would that be?” Lucien interrupts my thoughts.

I still cannot believe that little brat actually hit me.

I stiffen, looking down at the leaf-covered ground.

“Someone so hypocritical that he won’t hunt animals he deems ‘cute,’ but finds all others fair game. Disgraceful, don’t you think?”

My brother pushes the rabbit back toward me.

“That person isn’t here, anyway.”

I ignore his extended hand, the rabbit bounces slightly against my wrist, and I walk past him.

Enough of this nonsense.

We enter the library. Lucien sets the rabbit outside, and the animal remains there, huddled against the doorpost. I close the door behind us. Ahead stands a massive window, the wooden frame, carved with motifs that look like twisted branches, frames the woods like a painting. I take my seat behind the desk; he remains standing, rigid.

“So,” I resume, interlacing my hands before me. “Did Miss Wood reveal anything more to you? The exact location where the documents were stored.”

He narrows his eyes. “Yes. Precisely.”

I move my hand with a brief gesture, the kind of nod my father would have loathed for its lack of formality.

Lucien understands anyway. Or at least, he understands I have no intention of asking twice.

“The documents were transported to Blackwater Lodge,” he says without taking his eyes off me. “The isolated cottage along the river. Do you remember it?”

I run a hand over my chin. “Yes... I haven’t set foot there in years.”

“No one has been there for years. A more perfect hiding place would be hard to imagine.”

The tone he uses stings me. “It almost sounds as if you are accusing our grandfather.”

“Don’t you find his behavior somewhat suspicious? For what reason would he have to conceal those documents?”

“I’m aware that you cannot stand him,” I respond, trying to keep my voice calm, “but to insinuate he had anything to do with the death of his own son is excessive.”

“I didn’t say that. I said it seems suspicious. And it is, Dorian.”

I lean back against the chair. The cold leather greets my shoulders, and for an instant, I would rather be anywhere else. Anywhere that didn’t force me to stir up what I have never truly buried.

Lucien moves half a step forward.

“And besides that, he accepted everything with an indecent speed. No questions, no hesitation. As if the death of our father and your mother were entirely indifferent to him.”

“The investigation was clear at the time. It was ruled an accident. So, there was no reason to doubt.”

“And did you ever believe it?” he asks, without raising his voice but with a firmness that forces me to look at him. “For years you searched for every possible detail. I know your silences. If you truly believed the official version, you would have stopped a long time ago.”

“Let us go to Blackwater Lodge, then.”

“I’ve already been.”

“What did you find, then?”

“The contract for the Blackford foundry.”

His fingers play with the air, as if flipping through invisible pages. “There are four names: our father, Theodore W. R. Ashford... Duke Damien D. B. Lestrade... a certain Ambroise V. Varlen, who appears to have been our father’s partner, at least for a time... and finally, Gideon Hale.”