This follows The Funeral and Further Funeral. It’s set in Fae apoc, pre-apoc era, possibly 2010.
“What are you doing in here?” Eaven glared at Senga as a small group of the mourners trooped into the office. “It’s not like you’re the most favored relative or anything. And you.” She glared over Senga’s head at the as-of-yet-unnamed black-clad cowboy Senga had been talking with. “This isn’t for the help, you know.”
He smirked. It was the sort of smile you might imagine on a shark, right before it had you for dinner. “I was invited here to listen to the will-reading. It falls within my agreements with Mirabella. So here I am.”
“Same,” Senga agreed. “Great-Aunt Mirabella wanted me to be here. I haven’t told her no yet.”
“You don’t dare, do you? Even with her dead, you can’t go against her, or-” Eaven ran her finger across her neck.
“I’m a dutiful niece.” She knew her voice didn’t crack on that one. “And that is, like the man said, the agreement I have with my Great-Aunt.”
“Who is dead now. In case you haven’t noticed.”
“Ahem. Ahem. Please be seated. Thank you. This is a long will, and there are many parties involved, so I am going to attempt to get through this as expeditiously as possible. If you have any arguments, please wait until the very end, when I will be taking questions in the order of the will-reading.”
The will started with Mirabella’s children, unsurprisingly, and from there to her grandchildren and five great-grandchildren. Senga amused herself by guessing what the bequests would be and how much fuss the relative in question would throw.
Eaven seemed pleased enough by her inheritance, although it was a fraction of Mirabella’s wealth and none of her empire. Muirgen, Eaven’s older sister, was not nearly as content with her similarly-small share.
Everyone was holding their breath for the Black Books. It might have been the computer age, but the wealth of Mirabella’s empire lived in a small stack of black leather-bound ledgers and a much larger stack of sealed envelopes.
When they went to a cousin – not one of Mirabella’s direct descendants, even, but her sister’s child – every single blood descendant of the former Empress of the City started to snarl and yell.
The lawyer merely cleared his throat. “At this point I will read a note from Mirabella herself.”
The room fell silent, Great-Aunt Mirabella’s heavy hand coming down on them from beyond the grave.
The lawyer cleared his throat again. “Dear family, frends, and others I’ve chosen as my inheritors.” The lawyer’s voice seemed to harden. “You will either take what you’ve been given without argument or fuss, or you’ll get nothing.”
The room stayed silent.
“Very good then. Now, onto the next inheritor…”
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