The Grey Blood #2

Deals and Zalanas

Smoke curls around his face, obscuring his view of the sprawling manor before him, surrounded by ponds of water that sparkle in the cold, afternoon sun. Hedges are carved into shapes to rival the marble works of art in the palace, an indication of the ambitions of the woman that locks herself within the manor.

Oliver paces towards the mansion, each inhale causing claws to dig into his side, like a predator trying to keep its prey still.

He continues to smoke, his nerves too frayed to resist even with the pain. No sleep will do that to anyone. Oliver should be used to such a thing; lack of sleep was drilled into him during the war when it was the clatter of gunfire and stench of blood that kept him awake.

But there was a brief moment when sleep didn't seem so distant. He's desperate to get back to that even though he knows it's not within reach anymore. The small simplicity Alicia and he carved for themselves beyond the walls was shattered when they were reminded that they still have a war to fight.

"Captain Narovich?"

He glances towards the man who approaches him, but the other man stops walking when he meets Oliver's gaze. The man Oliver is faced with has a mass of dark curls that fall over his bronze forehead. But it's his eyes that Oliver focuses on, so similar to Alicia's in their hazel hue that it makes his heart ache. Adrian Zalana is dressed in a tailored black coat that hugs his muscular figure. His leather riding boots stop just beneath his knees and they're polished to a shine.

Oliver resists curling his lip at the eldest Zalana sibling.

"We were told you were dead."

Oliver tosses his cigarette to the ground where it hisses in a puddle that had made an attempt to stay snow. "I'm here on business from the king," he says, procuring Sebastian's letter from a pocket in his coat.

Oliver's past deeds had instilled some sort of trust in the king. It's the only thing that got him the letter he needed to garner an audience with Nathalia Zalana. For once, he's grateful for his reputation.

"The king?" A frown mars Adrian's features as he steps closer and plucks the letter from Oliver's hand to glance over its contents.

Rising within him is the urge punch Adrian in the mouth. He settles for cutting into him with his gaze instead.

"Nathalia is inside," Adrian murmurs, folding the letter and passing it back to him. As he does, his gaze lands on Oliver's arm tucked against his abdomen beneath a black, woolen coat. Oliver has decided to keep the sling after Miriam had wrangled him into it with her lips pinched together. The show of weakness won't help his current situation, but he's less keen to face his sister's ire if he takes it off.

Oliver slips the letter back into his coat and passes Adrian to walk into the manor. Eventually, the other man catches up, walking a few paces behind Oliver.

Adrian has every reason to be wary.

As he limps through the halls of the Zalana manor, Oliver notes the skeleton crew of staff that linger within the wide corridors. Alicia once explained this home to him. That it was a hive of activity, as busy as the palace on most days with guests and business men and women staying for lengthy amounts of time. Parties were held here, only the most known names of Muovea's capital being invited to attend.

Now it's but a blank canvas of the picture Alicia once painted.

"She's through here," Adrian says, bypassing him to stop before a set of double doors coated in an ivory paint. He pauses and Oliver tilts his head. "There were rumours you were alive, that you fought the grand duke."

"That I fought beside the sister you betrayed," Oliver snaps, unable to hold his tongue.

Adrian stiffens, keeping his back to Oliver. "I know you can't be here on the king's business. Not now. Not after a month. So, why are you here?"