The Vicious Vixen: Mother To The Panther Lord’s Pups Chapter 05
The Old Lady’s Rules
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON? HE WAS OUTSIDE ALL NIGHT! HE COULD HAVE DIED!”
I opened the door. Still in my robe. Coffee in hand.
“Your son was burning mine with a lighter,” I said. “Be grateful I only put him on a balcony.”
Her face went still.
“If you ever touch my pup again—”
“If your pup ever touches mine again, a balcony will be the least of his problems.” I paused. “And Isolde? I’d love to know where a nine-year-old got a lighter inside Nightfall Hall. Wouldn’t you?”
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
I shut the door in her face.
Isolde couldn’t beat me alone, so she went to Octavia.
Two days later, Octavia summoned me to the oath room.
It was a small room off the east wing. Stone walls, dark portraits, and candles for the dead of the Nightfall line.
A carved panther crest stood against the far wall, flanked by painted faces of every lord who had ruled before Darian.
Octavia sat in a chair facing the crest, hands folded over her cane. Isolde stood behind her.
“Sit,” Octavia said.
I stayed standing. Her eyes narrowed.
“In this house, a Lady has duties. Lord Darian is away protecting us all. The least you can do is kneel before the family crest and keep vigil for his safe return.”
“Keep vigil,” I repeated.
“Every morning. Five a.m. One hour on your knees in this room. It is tradition.”
I looked at Isolde. She had a tiny smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.
This was not tradition. This was punishment.
“And if I don’t?” I asked.
Octavia’s voice went sharp.
“Then you are not fit to carry the Nightfall name. I will send word to Lord Darian myself. I will tell him his new Lady refuses to honor this house and its legacy. He will act accordingly.”
I waited.
Then I walked to Darian’s study, took a bottle of whiskey from his shelf, and came back. I sat in the nearest chair and opened it.
I took a long drink.
Octavia’s face went pale.
“If kneeling in this room worked,” I said, wiping my mouth, “Lord Darian wouldn’t be bleeding on the border. And you wouldn’t need me here begging portraits for miracles.”
“You DARE—”
“I dare plenty.” I took another sip. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen, Octavia. I’m not kneeling. Not at five a.m., not ever. And if you send word to Lord Darian, make sure you also mention how his pups have been treated in this house. The thin clothes. The empty rooms. The burn scars.”
Octavia went still.
Isolde stepped forward. “She’s lying—”
“Am I?” I looked at Isolde. “Should I bring Cassian down here right now? Let him take off his shirt in front of the old Lady Nightfall? Show her the scars your son left on Lord Darian’s heir?”
Isolde’s mouth snapped shut.
Octavia’s grip tightened on her cane.
Burn scars on a pup. In her house. Under her watch.
I stood and set the whiskey on the oath room table.
“Here’s the deal. I run Nightfall Hall. You stay in your wing, say your prayers, and drink your tea. Nobody bothers you. But you do NOT give me orders. You do NOT side with Isolde against those pups. And you do NOT use Lord Darian’s name to threaten me.”
“And if I refuse?” Octavia asked.
“Then when Lord Darian comes home, I’ll hand him everything. Every coin Isolde stole from the Night Road revenue, every scar on his son’s arm, and every time you looked away. And we’ll see who he blames.”
No one spoke.
Octavia looked at me. I looked back.
Ten seconds passed. Twenty.
Then she breathed out slowly.
“You are a vile woman,” she said.
“I know.” I smiled. “That’s why they bonded me to Lord Darian.”
I walked out and didn’t look back.
Behind me, I heard Isolde hiss at Octavia: “We can’t just let her—”
“Enough,” Octavia cut her off. “I need to think.”
Good. Let her think.
—