Hoovanil Summerhold

[hoovanil-summerhold]

DWC Feb 2026 - Day 3 - Pompus

Watching the track with a trifecta ticket in his hand and a smile upon his lips, Hoovanil appears confident. Recently, he has been winning more than losing. Listening to owners and jockeys at Eilyne’s social events gave him more than enough information to use in his betting. Marrying Lady Goldenreaver was going to help him rebuild his fortune, even without his allowance.

That word is distasteful to him, and he is certain Eilyne knows it. But when a man is dependent on another, what choice does he have but to be outwardly grateful? At least she pays all of his expenses and is not bothered by his gambling. She even finds it a gentlemanly pursuit.

“I see your luck could be turning, finally.”

A dangerously low voice sounds behind Hoovanil, making the elder Summerhold jump slightly. He bristles as the man chuckles at his reaction, the sound fading as his creditor steps back.

“My office,” the dark Sin’dorei says, turning and walking away without waiting for acknowledgment.

Hoovanil dares not make him wait, so he hurries after him. One of the guards makes a sound close to a snicker as his steps carry him across the racetrack’s main betting floor in an effort to keep up.

Even so, his loan shark is already seated and steepling his fingers before Hoovanil can take a chair. “Yes, it seems so.” He has just won a decent-sized bet, but he knows that is not what the man means. “The case is going to be adjudicated tomorrow.”

Golden eyes hold his without a word. Unsure what to say or what the man wants to hear, Hoovanil presses on. “My friend says everything is in order, and the witness is grateful that justice will be done.”

Still nothing comes from the man across from him, Hoovanil growing frustrated. “She has no leg to stand on. She has no legal defense.” He knows Nahi could fabricate evidence, as he had, but she does not seem the type. As far as he sees, she handles her financial and legal filings properly. Removing her from the equation is his safest bet, and he is always one to play the odds.

The silence that meets him makes him huffy as his patience thins. Perhaps he should admit the problem to his fiancée and let her pay off this ruffian once and for all. The deal was struck because he had no options; the engagement is an unexpected gift horse, and with Eilyne’s looks, the description is fitting.

“Really, our association no longer needs to be confrontational. Once I have the house in the city, I will sell it. Or, if you prefer, I can simply sign the title over to you. I am told that with the limited space in Silvermoon, it is worth far more than she paid for it.”

That finally draws the man’s attention. “You are forgetting the extra months of interest I have allowed you?”

Hoovanil splutters. “We had a deal. Her house for the interest on what I owe. The stipend she earned while holding the estate illegally will be enough to settle the principal.”

A dark brow arches. “That deal was set before I gave you four more months while you waited for her mother to die.”

“But… but… Who do you think you are?” Hoovanil stammers, outraged that a common criminal was attempting to extort more money from him. Standing, he places his hands on the massive desk. His creditor gestures toward the chair as though inviting him to sit again, a rough hand seizing his collar like a misbehaving child jerking him back into his seat. 

Hoovanil watches as the man leans in. His suit is impeccable, the expensive cut of it speaking to his success in the underworld. “I am the person you have owed money to for years. I gave you leeway because sometimes you win, and you were landed. For over a year you have had no collateral and have not made a single payment, not even after becoming engaged and beginning to receive your allowance.” The word carries a hint of mockery. “You should be grateful I recognize that being repaid is worth more than taking the hand of some poor, landless man.”

Leaning back and steepling his fingers once more, he continues, “Be grateful I do not collect your young lover to hold in lieu of payment, at least for now. There is quite a market for beautiful Sin’dorei.”

It is the first time Banictusia is threatened in any of these dealings, and Hoovanil’s heart leaps into his throat. The enforcer who forced him back into his seat steps forward, taking a sheet of paper from his employer and placing it before Hoovanil. The soon-to-be holder of the Summerhold estate glances at the figure and lifts his chin. “This sum is ridiculous. I will not be paying it.”

“Interest compounds.”

Hoovanil flings the paper onto the desk. “I will see you ruined. You cannot treat me this way.” With an indignant huff, he storms from the office, and neither guard stops him.

The first guard speaks once he is gone. “That man grows more insufferable each day.”

“I want you to attend the court proceedings tomorrow. Keep me informed of the outcome.”

A shadow shifts behind the man at the desk, and the guard swallows before bowing his head. “Yes, sir.”

@daily-writing-challenge

@nahisummerhold

[hoovanil-summerhold]

As Magister Palecrown took to the fighting ring Hoovanil watched him, the man was absolutely ruthless, it was what built their friendship on. Palecrown looked for opponents with enough skill to make him look good, but never beat him. Hoovanil’s only experience fighting had been in these confines, a world of dulled blades and padded tips. It was nothing compared to those who had actually taken the field in conflict like Palecrown had. Hovanil was solid with a bit of flash that he learned in his days of fighting those worse that him, it made him the perfect opponent for the magister. Allies had been made in lesser ways. 

The fights today were no different, Palecrown won, Hoovanil would have a number of bruises, but he would make it look like it was a fairly even match. With a salute they both went to the side of the ring where others would not hear them. “So it is going well? I know that serving the papers had a big impact.” He didn’t say he knew because his son had stormed into Hovanil’s fiancée’s manor demanding to talk to him. When they were situated in his den, Hamdil took him to task and threatened to expose him. Hoovanil had claimed it had nothing to do with him and acted surprised at the news, which wasn’t believed but the threat of his secrets coming to light made him nervous, he would have to get that smoothed over, hopefully before this legal machination was handled. 

He did not plan on even being at the court proceedings for that very reason. None of this could be linked to him. He and Palecrown were opponents in the ring, but not thought of as friends or acquaintances outside of the club. 

“You didn’t tell me that she would be so prepared, was she tipped off in any way?” Palecrown sneered at him. 

Hoovanil thought for a moment, only Banictusia had known of the plan, and then only in general. She cared little for the method, only the result, and currently the result was not that pleasing to her, but she would be loyal to him to the end. “No, no one could have warned her, and as good of a performer as she is, the surprise was real.” 

The magister looked him over, as if he would pull out his soul if this didn’t work in his favor. “She has retained some of the best lawyers in the city, and my office has been buried under a mountain of paperwork that has been filed with the courts in her defense.”

“She has proof of her birthright?” That was impossible, even if someone had made the same claim against his children, it would be hard to prove it. Just like with Nahilvi, most of the records were lost with the Scourge attack, and his family had never  been concerned about filing things with the court system.

The other man began to stretch. “No, they are all financial records. We are having to wade through inventories and deeds, banking records and legal documents about her mother. If her mother was not dead we would never have a shot at this at all.”

Hoovanil had assumed that, he had flipped through the things she had brought with her when Nahilvi first returned with her declarations about her and her mother’s presence, and how she would kick them out if they didn’t comply. He never thought that she would really do it. Banictusia just had to know why Nahi didn’t want her mother bothered and kept making attempts to get them inside the Dowager’s House, couldn’t leave well enough alone. “A good thing she is dead then.”

He had been making inroads at getting his debts settled before the losses to the estate would be noticed after she came back. His niece’s anger at their refusal to honor her wishes, had been swift and harsh. 

He couldn’t believe she would even kick out Hamdil and his children, the cousins had always been close, maybe too close when they were young. It was part of how Banictusia had become so dedicated to Hoovanil, she was always jealous of Nahilvi and Hamdil together, but was no proof anything improper went on with the two, unlike he and his daughter-in-law. 

“I had no idea. She always seemed out of touch with anything but her own needs.” Had she really changed that much since her spoiled behavior as a young woman? He figured that she had become like her mother, not caring about much but her own pleasure. “In fact, with the request to keep her mother sequestered when they came back from Dalaran, I thought that she was stealing from the Diva and needed her silenced.”

Palecrown threw him a filthy look. “These attorneys of hers are sharks, they will tear apart any weakness. Make sure your witness is ready, and there better not be any others out there to speak for her or we will lose for sure.”

He had given the star witness just enough inspiration for their appearance, and they would never betray him. A deep sense of right and wrong made a zealot, even if it was for a poor cause. 

There weren’t any that would, or could, testify differently. The only loose end would be if his brother came back from the dead, which Nahilvi herself had verified that he couldn’t. That was something he had doubled checked through, his brother was truly lost with so many others that had followed their Prince. “I will make sure everything is in order with the witness. Will the date be delayed?”

“No, it seems they are not looking to drag this out.” Palcrown sighed, “That is a good sign, it gives them less time to find witnesses, but it also gives my office less time to go through all the documents. Hopefully, this will be cut and dried once we get to the courts.” 

Hoovanil took a breath and nodded to his friend, “Good, see you next week?”

The Magister looked around the club, “No, better to not be seen together until after we win.” Gold eyes fixed back on him, “And we better win, a loss like this will look bad for me.”

He nodded at the man and then threw one of his gloves to the ground looking like he was mad about the match and stormed off. Look bad for him? This would be devastating to his family if it went wrong. The magister was right, this better not go wrong.

( @nahisummerhold )

[hoovanil-summerhold]

It was done, finally. His sister-in-law had been laid to rest and, to his surprise, Nahilvi had invited both him and Banictusia to attend. Hamdil had been there as well, glaring with a jaw clenched tight enough to crack stone. The anger his son held for him would pass with time, he was sure. 

Hoovanil had not taken his betrothed. He did not want her to see the estate; not in its current state. It still needed a lot of work, nothing like the treasured family legacy he had explained it as. If she learned that Acenadalia had been alive all this time, she would have wanted an explanation as to why he had not brought the operatic star to her parties. Certainly she would have expected him to convince the Diva to perform at them. In that regard, he agreed with Nahilvi’s choice to keep her mother hidden. Explaining the Diva’s memory troubles, and her status as the estate’s true heir, would have been more effort than it was worth.

He had not told his daughter, Tirorastraza, about the funeral. The girl was sweet, but she was not smart, and newly married. There was no chance she could have explained the family situation to her husband well enough to handle all the questions he surely would have had, and the fewer people who knew about their troubles, the better.

The service itself had been small. Deliberately so, Nahilvi had clearly curated the guest list. She made the introductions: most were staff who worked the estate or as nurses with Acen. Then there was Acenadalia’s new husband Irenthalas, a woman named Tinnaire, and a Shal’dorei noble presented as Viscount Jes’champe Vidroth. Neither of them had any obvious connection to his sister-in-law. Hoovanil assumed they were Nahilvi’s lovers, why else would they be the only outsiders present?

The ceremony was brief but touching. Afterward, his niece sang. Her voice was lovely, impressively so, a clear echo of her mother’s talent, then, the guests were led to a small buffet laid out on the estate’s patio. It gave Hoovanil the opportunity to take in the gardens properly. They were beautiful, restored to something close to what they had been in his youth. Banictusia would entertain well here once she returned to the property.

He spoke very little with Nahilvi or Hamdil. What words were exchanged were cordial. Nahilvi thanked him sincerely for coming, treating him like he was merely another attendee, not family at all. The small slight burned, though he probably would never have invited her if the shoe was on the other foot. He wanted to say something about her theft of his property, but that would only serve in sparking his ire, instead he held his temper.

Banictusia did not. She cornered Hamdil near the edge of the patio, her voice sharp enough to draw attention. When it looked as though the argument might turn into a scene, Hoovanil moved toward them. He arrived just in time to hear the accusation, Banictusia was claiming Hamdil had been sleeping with Nahilvi.

Hamdil’s anger flared visibly. He said nothing in reply, only clenched his fists before turning and storming off. It was for the best, it was better that the matter ended there before his lover completely lost control of her tongue. Hoovanil took Banictusia by the elbow and steered her away. Together, they offered their respects one final time and departed.

By this time next week, the estate would be his again. Nahilvi’s legal manipulations would collapse, and he would ensure that she never set foot on the property again. The thought drew a small smile to his lips. He was very much looking forward to the future.

(Nahilvi’s thoughts on the funeral <-<HERE>->) (Mentions of @kharrisdawndancer Tinnaire, @nahisummerhold and @cityofdusk)

[hoovanil-summerhold]

“Ah, Lord Summerhold. Imagine my surprise, finding you at the hawkstrider races once more.”

Hoovanil sat as the man gestured to the seat. “Yes. Well. I came to see you about our business.”

“And not to wager?” The man glanced toward the track. “Not even the one you just placed?”

“That is all for fun, sir.” The word curdled in his mouth. One step above jail scum, no more, but Hoovanil’s face betrayed nothing. “I have stepped into a new venture. One that will ensure both our prosperity.”

The man leaned back in the private suite, as casual as a noble at leisure. “Yes. Your betrothal.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “A longshot. I am surprised it paid out. She hasn’t looked into your finances, then?”

A flicker of surprise crossed Hoovanil’s handsome features. “Oh? You know about that?”

“Your business is my business,” the man replied mildly. “It is the only reason I have not come to find you.”

Hoovanil swallowed. “As you know, once the marriage is finalized, I will be quite well off…”

“And you expect me to wait until the wedding?” The interruption was gentle, almost amused. “We both know how long those take to plan  in Quel’thalas.”

It was exactly the opening Hoovanil had hoped for. He kept his voice measured. “No. Not that long. I was merely hoping for a little patience while I regain my estate.”

“Your niece has done an admirable job in your absence.” The man steepled his fingers. “I attended a wedding there this month. She has a head for business the rest of your family seems to lack.”

Hoovanil felt his pulse tick louder.

“I was surprised to see your son,” the man continued. “Did he uncover your little secret?”

Hoovanil had many secrets, thin streams branching from a much darker source. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. “There was a misunderstanding with his spouse. They are reconciling.”

Silence fell. Not an idle silence, one that pressed in around him.

Hoovanil forced himself onward. “I asked him to keep an eye on the estate. Nahilvi has been training him. I may allow him to continue managing it.”

Still nothing.

The roar of the crowd below felt distant, muffled, unreal. Hoovanil shifted in his seat. “As you can see,” he said, unable to endure it any longer, “I am prepared to act the moment the opportunity presents itself.”

“You had better hope so.” The man’s voice was soft now. “I have been more than patient.”

“I am assured it will succeed,” Hoovanil said. “I have friends who will see to it.”

Gold eyes fixed on him, unblinking, cold. Hoovanil had the unsettling sensation of being measured, and found wanting.

“It had better,” the man said at last. “And it had better be soon.”

Dismissal, plain and final.

Hoovanil stood. “I will be in touch.”

The man did not look away as he left.

(@nahisummerhold)

[hoovanil-summerhold]

“I am sorry, I am not sure I heard that right, you want me to do what?” Banictusia’s voice was riding that familiar edge, brittle and high, the one that meant she would soon dissolve into screaming or tears. Hoovanil had heard this tone so many times he could map the progression of her emotions like seasons.

He took her hand and knelt in front of her, not out of humility, he didn’t have much of that, but because it usually calmed her for a breath or two. “Listen, Poppet, it makes sense.”

Her eyes widened in that way that told him she wasn’t going to let him finish, so he pushed forward before she could cut him off. “When I get the estate back, I want you to go live there. Hamdil is already there, so it makes sense for you to join him. And if you stay here along with me, Eilyne will start to question things.”

Her voice rose, the beginning of a wail curling around her words. But in her golden eyes, he saw the hurt surfacing just behind the anger. That part always hit him, stung, even. Not enough to change his plans, but enough to make the moment uncomfortable.

“I am not running to him,” she snapped. “He wants a divorce, and only your friend is blocking it. I would look like I’m begging him to take me back.”

“I know, but you aren’t. We know the truth.” He tried to soften the words, taking both her hands again. “If you stay here when your husband is at the estate, people will talk. Right now, us not having the estate gives you a reason to be here. But once we do…” He hesitated, searching her face. “You know I love you. I’ll come by as often as I can. But I can’t live in two places, and we need Eilyne’s money to get the estate restored, and her influence to keep Nahilvi from stealing it back through her connections, and to get her money, I need to marry her.”

He watched her jaw tighten. She always hated hearing Eilyne’s name. He couldn’t blame her, Eilyne Goldenreaver was everything Banictusia wasn’t, and everything he needed.

“So I am the one punished now for that woman’s actions? She takes the estate from you and now I am banished for it?”

He looked into her eyes and felt that familiar duality rise: affection and calculation living comfortably side-by-side. He loved Banictusia; he never doubted that. But he also needed what Eilyne offered. He wanted both, and he didn’t see a reason he shouldn’t have them.

“No. It’s because I trust you,” he said gently. “I trust you to keep the estate in order. And I want you to get Hamdil to stay and help. Having the children there might get him to back off the divorce.”

The tears came then, slow, hot, predictable. That was the worst part for him. Not the cheating, not the manipulation, he felt no guilt for those. But hurting her like this? That he wished he could sidestep.

“What if I want the divorce?” Her voice trembled. “What if I’m tired of being married to someone I don’t love, while the person I do love is so close I can feel his breath but can never openly have him?”

“Bani, my love,” he murmured, “you know we can’t be together like that. You’ve always known.” He could picture it perfectly, the scandal, the whispers, the laughter behind closed doors. Becoming the stepfather of his own grandchildren would bury every social ambition he’d worked for. They both understood the rules they were breaking.

“We love one another,” he said instead, “and that’s what matters.”

She pulled away, clutching a pillow to her chest like a shield. “Is it though? If you moved back to the estate when you get it back from Nahilivi…”

“When we get it back,” he corrected quickly. “It is yours too.”

She didn’t soften. Her voice dipped into that stubborn, aching certainty she’d used a dozen times before. “When you get it back, we could live how we want. No one would know.”

“If people found out, it would ruin us both,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his lap, her body folding against him out of habit more than agreement. “We’re going to have everything we want, estate, money, prestige.”

She settled into him physically, but he could feel the argument still simmering in her. “You mean you get everything you want. I want those things too, but I want to be with you when you get them. Not sent off to a decaying estate you barely cared about until your niece took it. Not forced back into the arms of a husband who doesn’t want me. I will be alone there.”

Hoovanil stroked her hair. “Hamdil will come around. And the children…”

“I don’t want him,” she whispered. “And we both know the children might not be his anyway.” She let out a defeated breath. “I suppose it doesn’t matter what I want. This is my life if I want to be with you.” The doubt in her tone struck him harder than the words.

He held her tighter. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but they’d danced through this same argument so many times that he knew exactly where every step led. This was their pattern, messy, painful, necessary.

“You know I love you,” he said into her hair. “I’ll always be there for you. Even if we’re not in the same home for a little while.”

Her tears soaked through his shirt, warm, familiar, guilt-provoking in exactly the way he hated. “We’ve never been apart before.”

“We’ll message. And I’ll visit often. I’ll need to supervise the repairs and make sure everything is in order. Once I secure the Goldenreaver money, we’ll start restoring the estate, and being there more often will make sense to her.”

Banictusia nodded, but her eyes told him she was nowhere close to believing him. And if she wasn’t reassured soon, she could unravel everything. “As you say,” she murmured.

He lifted her chin gently so she had to meet his gaze. “We’re a team, even if we sleep in different places for a bit. This gets us more in the long run. We deserve more.”

“You’re right,” she whispered. “We do.” But the doubt was still there, quiet and dangerous.

He would have to handle her carefully. He always did.

(Mention of @nahisummerhold)

[hoovanil-summerhold]

DWC Nov 2025 Day 1 - Shine/Static

Hoovanil inwardly thrashed in frustration as he made polite conversation. The gala hosted by Keranna Zerine had been touted as the event of the season, a place where influence was traded as freely as wine. He had expected a dazzling turnout of the kinds of people he needed to strengthen his standing. Instead, he found himself trapped in endless small talk with people who neither mattered nor knew how to hide that they didn’t.

He smiled anyway, the expression tight and practiced. Admittedly, he had never been one for charity. Even with an excess of wealth, he would not have donated a coin unless it purchased him something tangible, a favor, an introduction, a little power. Altruism, in his eyes, was just vanity in a prettier dress.

Eilyne Goldenreaver, his current hostess, certainly had the money to donate, but she had dismissed the idea outright. The noblewoman deeply believed that turning a noble estate into an artist’s commune was a vulgar perversion of tradition, though, to be fair, Eilyne felt everything deeply. Her passions came in waves: loud, glittering, and exhausting.

The dinner party she had organized opposite the gala was proof of that. Every detail had been orchestrated, the crystal place settings, the peacock feathers woven into the floral arrangements, the menu that began with pearl-dusted oysters and ended with rosewater sorbet. It was a gathering for those who shared her outrage, or pretended to. Many of them did, because it was easier to agree than risk her disfavor. Since Hoovanil was courting her, he naturally fell into that latter group.

Not that he disagreed with her. He simply didn’t care what others did with their estates so long as their choices didn’t touch his own affairs. What did affect him, however, was his niece, and the chaos she had made of his inheritance. If her mother didn’t die soon, he would owe money to a man who didn’t bother with threats twice.

He loathed the waiting. This static, suffocating period before everything shifted. His future hung on another person’s death, an undignified situation for him as he lived on another’s charity. The Diva’s continued existence was a curse, and every day she lingered, he felt his prospects rot a little further.

At least one matter was moving forward. Reclaiming the Summerhold estate would mean little if he had no funds to maintain it. He had grown comfortable in the golden prison of Lady Goldenreaver’s estate, the silk, the servants, the sense of being surrounded by wealth without having to spend any of it. The luxury was intoxicating, and he found himself becoming unwilling to go without it. Her money could sustain him, especially if his plans for his niece did not unfold as intended.

Upstairs, in his room, a small velvet-lined box waited. The timing had to be perfect. Eilyne had been hinting for weeks that she would welcome a more permanent arrangement, and Hoovanil was not a fool. He had enjoyed her company far more before he moved into her home, before the illusion of romance gave way to the reality of routine. But marriages among their kind were not made for love. Anyone in the noble ranks who said otherwise was either newly wed or utterly naïve.

A hand brushed his sleeve, light and familiar. Eilyne’s voice, smooth and certain, drew him back from his thoughts. She was smiling at him, radiant, satisfied, expectant.

He returned the smile automatically. “Of course, you always know what’s best,” he said, though he hadn’t the faintest idea what he was agreeing to.

It didn’t matter. All she wanted was his yes, and all he wanted was hers very soon. 

(@daily-writing-challenge)

(Mention of @keranna-zerine)

[hoovanil-summerhold]

The stately, silver-haired Sin’dorei sat on the edge of the bed in the grand chamber he had been granted after his family’s displacement. Lady Goldenreaver’s mansion had taken them in, though not all paid the price he had. Acting as Eilyne’s consort was hardly unpleasant, and her connections among the old noble lines,  those who fretted about diluting the blood of true aristocracy, served his ambitions well.

“We’re still on track, aren’t we?” A soft hand traced down his spine. He turned slightly toward the woman lounging behind him. “Isn’t there some way to… speed up the plan?”

He brushed a lock of pale hair from her brow. “My poppet, are you suggesting I kill my sister-in-law? You know as well as I that we’ve no claim while The Diva still lives.”

Credit was due to Nahilvi; she had bound the estate and its accounts so tightly that even his friend Magistrate Palecrown could find no flaw to exploit. He’d never imagined her so clever. For now, patience was the only weapon left.

Banictusia’s lips, smudged with carmine, curved into a pout, a sight that once stirred him, but now only reminded him how much he’d risked. “But he served me,” she murmured. “If you don’t get what you want, I’ll have nothing at all.”

“That won’t happen,” Hoovanil said evenly. “We’ll tangle the divorce long enough to buy time. I suspect he’ll return, regardless.”

“Sun forbid,” she muttered, trailing a sharp nail down his arm. “You know… if he and I were divorced…”

He rose abruptly, pulling away from her touch.“Don’t even think it, Bani. The scandal alone would ruin us.”

She rolled onto her stomach, alabaster skin gleaming against crimson sheets. “I don’t care.” The tone matched the pout now, and it grated on him.

“The best thing I ever did was arranging your marriage to Hamdil,” he said coolly. “It kept you close, and respectable.”

She rose, gliding to him, her arms snaking around his waist. A kiss landed between his shoulder blades. “Your wife was ill,” she whispered. “We couldn’t go on as we were. I know why you did it, but you’re my true love. I want to be with you.”

In the mirror before him, her pale arms circled his waist , a picture of devotion, or possession. “I won’t let you go now,” he said quietly. “Soon we’ll have it all and…”

“And we’ll still be a secret,” Banictusia cut in, voice low and trembling. “I want to be your love,  not your hidden sin.”

Truth be told, Hoovanil loved only two things: her, and money. One he meant to keep. The other… he would never relinquish.

“She won’t last much longer,” he said at last.

(@nahisummerhold)

[hoovanil-summerhold]

Hoovanil sat across the table from a man in a dark blue, perfectly tailored suit, the kind that fit like a second skin. Nothing off the rack; this one was made for him. His golden eyes were cold as he regarded the older Summerhold.

“You keep spending money you do not have, Lord Summerhold.”

The way he said Lord made it sound like an insult, a mockery of a title that had long since lost its weight.

“I know, I know, but I’m good for it, I promise,” Hoovanil said, almost bowing his head. He knew it wasn’t true. His niece, if she truly was his niece, had thrown him and his family out of their home and seized everything, including the family finances.

They had sold almost everything of value, and what little remained, Hoovanil had gambled on a few “sure things” that were supposed to yield a handsome return. They hadn’t. And now here he was.

“I have something coming in soon,” he said quickly. “I have a plan. Everything will be repaid.”

“How long will you need?” the man asked.

“No more than two months, sir.” The sir came out soft and cautious. Once, Hoovanil might never have spoken so deferentially to a man like this, but that was before. Before the exile, before the debts, before her. Now he had no choice.

The golden-eyed man simply stared, unblinking, until a sheen of sweat glistened on Hoovanil’s brow.

“Two months,” the man said at last. “But it will be with interest.”

The words caught in Hoovanil’s throat. Interest. Even if things went right, that would stretch him to the breaking point.

“With interest. Yes, of course,” he managed.

A short nod ended the meeting. Hoovanil rose and left the secluded office off Murder Row, his pulse hammering in his ears.

He needed to move soon. The Diva, as they called her, wouldn’t live much longer. Her doctor had said as much when Hoovanil had reached out under the guise of a concerned brother-in-law. A month, maybe two at best.

He would have to bet on a month.

But even he could not rush that process, not with how well protected she was out at the Dowager’s house.

Soon, he told himself. He could wait for soon.

Unless, of course, his creditor had other plans.

(@nahisummerhold)