The skritch of the pen on parchment greeted him the moment he opened the door, walking up the stairs until he heard her scribbling pause. Evelyn sat at her great desk, her hair perfectly coiled into a braided crown. It was a new style, one she had worn more often than not lately. He assumed her fiance, or perhaps his mother, had suggested it. Warren, for his part, didn't care for it. She sat down the quill on the ceramic plate, careful not to allow any of the ink to drip onto the paper beneath.
"Is he... gone, then?" she asked quietly.
Warren nodded. "He left with the sunrise. Said it would take three days' journey there and three back, but that when he returns he'll be able to... to remove it."
As if on queue, her hand spasmed then, her fingers curling involuntarily inward as she grimaced. Warren stared at the display grimly. The shocks had been growing worse on a near-daily basis, sometimes overwhelming her to the point of gasping. He knew he wasn't the only one who noticed, and that the Vael family likely feared her collapsing beneath the bowery.
"Is that why you've summoned me? To ask if he departed? Any of the house staff could have done the same."
"No," Evelyn said, a strange edge creeping into her voice. She stood, allowing the full length of her deep blue gown to fall to the floor in an elegant curtain. The dress was new as well, and included a belt inlaid with gold that looked far too expensive to be from her own collection. It would appear Halden's mother was influencing more than just the Lady Trevelyan's hairstyle. "I have something I need you to assist me with," she spoke with great caution, not meeting his eyes.
"Why do I have the feeling I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear?"
Evelyn sighed, gripping the back of her chair. "There's a small chapel, in the Hunterhorn Valley. I need you to go there. Alone."
Warren shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling the first stirs of uneasiness deep in his stomach. "And what will I find, in that chapel?"
Evelyn's tongue flicked to the corner of her mouth as she considered her next words. "There's a mother who oversees the operations, Celestine. She has some information about me that I need you to retrieve and destroy. And," she tightened her grip, the wood squeaking beneath her fingers, "I need you to make a donation to her chapel, a not-insignificant sum. She is expecting this, I have sent word."
"And... what is this information she has?"
"After Adamant," she began slowly. "When I went away for a few days-"
"Fucking hell," he cut her off, mouth and eyes equally wide with realization. "Evelyn, tell me that you didn't."
"I was caught up in the moment, and we had been through so much. I just wanted something to hold onto."
"So you thought the best possible solution was to run away and marry an apostate elf.
They both stood facing one another, the silence like a great wall of ice between them. She was the one to break the stalemate. "I need you to ensure her silence."
"Ensure," he shook his head. "Has she not agreed?"
Evelyn worried her lower lip with her teeth. "She hasn't responded."
"So if she doesn't want to take your bribe and allow you to buy her silence, then what? Should I slit her throat? Bury her in the garden? Is there anyone else you'd like me to dispatch while I'm at it? Any cooks or innkeepers who might know that the goddamn Inquisitor had completely lost her mind?"
Evelyn continued to chew on her lip. "I was hoping that you could also stop at the inn."
Warren's face was completely white. "You're serious. You want me to threaten people to keep your secret. To keep your stupid fucking mistake private so that you can get on with this farce of a marriage of convenience."
"I'm hoping it won't come to that," her voice was barely a whisper.
Behind him, he heard a slight scrape of the door, a click as the lock re-engaged. Fuck. Had he not shut the door behind him?
"What was that?" Evelyn asked, panic written across her face. Warren leaned over the railing, seeing the door closed.
"I'm not sure," he said warily.
"Warren," she gently, and he was surprised to find her closer now, nearly directly behind him, hint of tears in her eyes. She placed a hand on his forearm. "Please. I need you to do this for me. No one can know. It will ruin everything I've worked so hard to build back up."
Warren felt the fight go out of him, his shoulders slumping in fatigue. "And as for him? Will he keep quiet?"
Evelyn's grip on his arm tightened. "If we remove anyone who could corroborate, no one will believe him. He'll be dismissed as a jealous spurned lover. Wasn't it you that told me all of the nobility has at least one?"
He frowned deeply. "Fine. I'll clean up this mess you've made. But don't come running to me when it all blows up. Things like this have a way of not staying buried, sister." He removed her hand from his arm. "Go and put some cold water on your face. You won't want Halden wondering who you're crying over."
Evelyn shoved an envelope at him, which he took with great reluctance, not bothering to glance inside. "There should be more than enough in there for the chapel and the innkeeper both, with some leftover to cover your expenses three times over."
"Thank you for thinking of me," he said dryly, "You know how I hate to have to worry about covering my lodging while quelching evidence of clandestine marriages."
"It will be best for us both if this is the last we speak of it."
"I hate when you take that tone with me, that high and proper I Am The Inquisition formality. You sound like a real shit of a person, you know."
"Your counsel is always appreciated, dear brother."
As Warren made his way through the sun-dappled main hall, off in search of a proper mount to accommodate this unexpected journey, he thought he caught one of the scullery staring at him curiously. Her ridiculous request has made you paranoid, he thought, yet the way the maid scurried off, not glancing back at him still did nothing to ease his worried mind. She'd been careless, thoughtless, selfish. Thinking only of herself. Warren remembered her return, the way the two had greeted him in the tavern all smiles and wind-chapped cheeks. For fuck's sake... they were trying to tell me they were fucking married. All this time he'd assumed it was something they'd discussed, something she'd planned on announcing as an engagement. Instead they'd already committed the act, sealed it with a fair bit of consummation, then returned to discover they had disappeared into one another at the worst possible time.
That was the week she'd lost nearly everyone. That was the week her fate was sealed with Halden Vael, when his armies and his treasury became something she'd need more than any amount of ill-advised love.
And here his idiot sister had gone and sealed herself to another.
At least she didn't ask me to kill him, he thought sardonically.
As Warren looked over the stock and picked a sturdy horse to carry him through the mountain pass, the kitchen was aflame with gossip, a whispered rumor of something overheard by Birnit, the elf girl who changed the Inquisitor's washbasin. That traveled from the kitchen to the wine cellar, and from the cellar into the blacksmith's building. From there it spread like wildfire, little fingerling paths of whispered scandal spreading through the building, as if to infect the very stones. All while Warren packed and prepared to leave, unaware. All while Evelyn looked over the sketch of her wedding gown, unprepared. The flames of disaster took spark.