Kill You in Your Sleep | Renfry & Lucian
It was easy, even for someone as incompetent as Isac, to pick off some of the lesser Staffords. People were dying off all the time in the North and no one looked twice when they were all Staffords.
The more popular Staffords would be harder. And then, of course, there was always his brother. Still, Renfry was confident in himself, even if he had less confidence in Isac.
The quarters he shared with his wife in the castle were modest -- too modest for Renfry’s taste who waited everyday for the raven that would tell him that Lord Grancourt had finally passed on and left him the inheritance he had earned for putting up with his weeping sister.
She was moping about today, white as death, as she did most days and Renfry was eager to be rid of her company. As soon as Grancourt was his, he foresaw an accident in her future.
Just as he closed the door behind him, he turned to see his brother coming up the hall. No doubt only a visit to Renfry himself had brought him to this side of the castle. He doubted that he wished to speak with Lavina. (But then, he doubted anyone would). “Ah, there you are, brother dear,” He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, “You’ve come to scold me for something or other, hmm? Some things never change.” He muttered,
“Don’t you ever tire of wearing that scowl all the time? You know, you might try having a bit of fun now and again. After all, someday soon no doubt, you will be dead.” He paused, “If I were you, I would relish these moments. Use them to really, take control,” He said, emphasising this point by raising his hand and making a fist, “Show the North who really rules them, eh? There’s not too much time left, before our insufferable nephew takes your job.”
