The Immortal Prince Read Online Free Page B

to be held personally responsible for a botched hanging?
    He had expected his report about the failed hanging to cause problems—an investigation, perhaps, maybe even a reprimand to keep the Caelish Ambassador happy—but not this.
    Not the King’s Spymaster on his very doorstep…
    Is Hawkes here to demand my resignation? Or worse?
    Sweat beaded the Warden’s brow. He’d heard rumours of men who’d never been seen again after crossing the King’s Spymaster. Just as he’d heard the other, even more disturbing rumours about this common-born son of a whore who’d been appointed spymaster five years ago—at barely twenty-five—when the previous spymaster, Daly Bridgeman, retired. Everyone thought the king had taken leave of his senses when the announcement was made. Whatever his origins, however he had managed to get himself appointed spymaster, nobody doubted Declan Hawkes’s ability to do what was required of him, ruthlessly, efficiently and without any qualms about removing anything or anybody he considered a threat to Glaeba’s sovereignty.
    The spymaster disappeared from view as he entered the building. Turning away from the rain-misted window, the Warden forced the last of his tea past the lump in his throat, put down the cup with a betraying rattle of china and glanced around his office one last time, just to make certain there was nothing there that might catch the spymaster’s eye. The Warden had no idea what might catch the eye of a man like Hawkes, but that was one of the things that made him so dangerous. You just never knew what he was really after.
    Although he was expecting it, the knock on his door—when it finally came a few minutes later—made him jump. He sat down and then abruptly stood up again, deciding to meet the man eye to eye, rather than be forced to look up at him. Even before he called permission to enter, the door began to open. The Warden had to force himself to resist the urge to mop the nervous sweat from his brow.
    â€œMaster Hawkes! What an unexpected pleasure!”
    The spymaster eyed him curiously as he closed the door behind him. “I sent a message two days ago saying I was coming to Lebec, Warden. Didn’t you receive it?”
    Declan Hawkes proved to be even more daunting in person than his reputation suggested. He was taller than the Warden by almost a head, and his damp hair was dark, as were his eyes…eyes that seemed to take in everything with a single glance.
    â€œWell, yes…of course…”
    Hawkes shook off his rain-splattered oilskin cape, shaking the raindrops onto the Warden’s rug with little care for the damage he might be doing. “Then my arrival is hardly unexpected, is it?”
    The Warden didn’t know how to respond and Hawkes—curse his common-born hide—seemed happy to let the silence drag on for an uncomfortable length of time, waiting for a response.
    The Warden cracked first. “Er…won’t you have a seat, Master Hawkes?”
    â€œThank you.”
    Afraid his knees might give way, the Warden sat himself down abruptly as Hawkes lowered his tall frame into the chair opposite the remarkably bare desk. The Warden had been here half the night making sure there wasn’t so much as a scrap of paper on the battered leather surface that Hawkes could catch a glimpse of.
    â€œI…er…I take it you’re here about the hanging?”
    â€œAnd to think, there’s a rumour getting about Herino that you’re not very bright,” Hawkes replied.
    The Warden’s eyes narrowed. He might have to put up with the King’s Spymaster, but he didn’t have to sit here and be insulted by him.
    â€œWhat do you want, Hawkes? I’m a busy man,” he demanded, dropping all pretence of cordiality.
    Hawkes’s dark eyes raked the empty desk and then he smiled. “Yes, I can see that. Why did you try to hang