by Beth Alvarez
Anger flashed across the emperor's stony face and he thrust himself from the throne. “He stole my crown!”
“To lend him credence,” she said, exasperation painting her face. “How else was anyone to believe he was worth following? How do you think he escaped? I orchestrated the entire thing. Thieves respect capability!”
For the first time, a hint of uncertainty showed in the emperor's eyes. He glanced toward Tahl, his gaze lingering there, questioning instead of hard.
Tahl stood straighter and stared back. He had no idea what Oria was doing, but if it kept him alive, he wasn't going to protest.
“He rooted out one of the leaders of Crownwatch once,” the queen continued, plaintive now instead of angry. “To hang him for his service to the crown—for a service I sought—would be to shame us all.”
Eventually, the emperor's eyes narrowed. “You said your father disowned you,” he said, focused on Tahl.
“He doesn't know what I am,” Tahl replied levelly. “Aside from Her Majesty, no one does.”
“You forfeit your right to dukedom for this?”
“Frankly, sire, this is more fun.”
Another murmur ran through the crowd in the stands and Tahl decided to curb his sarcasm. “I fell in love with Orrad as soon as I reached the mage academy. I miss Ashor, but Orrad is my home. You know I was sent to become a mage, that I wasn't strong enough to learn. How else was I to serve the crown? How else would I find a place in this city that would allow me to stay here?”
“Release him,” the queen ordered.
The pair of Elite who still held Tahl exchanged worried glances before they turned to the throne.
Oria's brows knit together, pleading. “Please, Atoras.”
The emperor remained on his feet, staring down at the group below him with an unreadable expression. “The stands are dismissed,” he called.
More murmurs of speculation rose as the nobles ringing the room got to their feet and shuffled for the door. Long moments of weighted silence dragged past as they emptied into the hall.
At the flick of Atoras's finger, one of the Elite from the rear of Tahl's party retreated to close the doors behind them.
“You try me, woman,” Atoras sighed, though there was a hint of fondness in his voice.
Tahl eyed the crown on his head and gave Oria a sideways glance. From what he had heard in the capital, fond was not a word anyone would ever use in conjunction with the emperor. He recalled what she'd told him about the crown's function. Perhaps that had been the truth. Was that why it was here now? Retrieved for this very meeting? He doubted it.
The queen rested her hands against her chest, either defensive or earnest. Tahl supposed it didn't matter. “I've begged you to let me aid the city,” she said, “but you haven't given me the chance. I tried to tell you my plan to find those weapons, but you were angry with me and would not hear me out. Please, Atoras, you know I wouldn't try to undermine you, but I had to do something. I feared for Orrad. For the empire. I knew nothing else to do.”
For a moment, Tahl wasn't sure Atoras would reply. He stared at her, his thoughts guarded, for what felt like an eternity.
At last, the emperor turned his attention to the Elite. “Escort him to the north holding room. Wait there for further instruction.”
The Elite bowed in acknowledgement and dragged Tahl forward. He chose not to resist, letting the six Elite usher him into a small, private parlor off the far end of the throne room. He cast a glance over his shoulder as one of the men behind him closed the door. Two men positioned themselves beside it. Tahl's captives released him and took chairs at the end of the room. Unsure what to do, Tahl sank to sit cross-legged on the floor. The lock pick was still up his sleeve. If he was careful, he could unfasten his shackles while he sat.
The parlor remained quiet for some time and he dared not try. Skilled as he was, he could not make lock picks silent. Or perhaps he could. Tahl tilted his head at that thought. He'd never progressed far enough in his studies to learn how to spin wards, but if he could make smoke, perhaps he could learn to make wards small enough to mute his picks.
“What do you think this means for the weapon recovery unit?” one of the Elite asked after a time.
Some of the other men spared glances for Tahl. “Possibly nothing,” one added. “They were just following orders.”
“Weren't we all,” Tahl muttered. He fingered the iron that encircled his wrists, contemplating the pick hidden up his sleeve. How hard would it be to escape six Elite? It sounded impossible. He should have tried to escape the dungeon the moment Nia had been escorted away. One cell door and two guards seemed laughably easy now.
The men regarded him with what seemed to be deep consideration. Did they regret speaking in front of him? Eventually, one of the Elite sitting at the back of the parlor leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “The queen really helped you steal that crown?”
Tahl offered a sarcastic smile, though he bit back the witty response that leaped to his tongue. The truth was both forthcoming and deceptive. “I wouldn't have made it out of the castle without her.” He still believed that. Maybe that knowledge would help endear the Elite to him, too. Hints of doubt swam across their faces now and then, as if they weren't sure what to believe. “If I'd known how badly this particular assignment would go, I never would have accepted when the queen brought it to me.”
The Elite who had spoken frowned as if he wasn't sure what Tahl meant.
Tahl arched a brow and rubbed his shoulder through the hole in his shirt, reminding them he'd been shot.
A soft click sounded behind him and he turned toward the door as it opened. Oria stepped inside, her chin up and her head high. “I will speak to the Ghost in private.”
All six Elite exchanged looks, but the queen didn't give them a chance to protest.
“Go,” she ordered, an edge in her voice.
The sitting men rose, all of them bowed, and they filed from the room. The door's latch snapped behind them, ominous in the still.
Tahl stood to face the queen and his shackles dropped away.
Oria raised one eyebrow. “Your resourcefulness has often surprised me over the past several days.”
“A talent, Your Majesty.” He was careful to ensure she didn't see his lock pick as he slid it back up his sleeve.
“One I hope you will retain,” she said.
Though Tahl suspected she hoped he would, he did not reply.
Eventually, she cleared her throat. “I have done what I could. The crown was necessary to soften my husband's demeanor. I hope you can forgive me for the liberties I've taken with our story.”
“Where is the rest of the group?”
A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Safe. They were unknown. In some ways, you aided with that. When the Elite shot you off the wagon's roof, they assumed you had been attempting to stop them from hijacking the weapons. They believed me when I said the others were my infiltration team.”
“But they didn't believe I was part of it.” He didn't know if he should laugh or be angry.
Oria spread her hands and gave a helpless shrug. “I won't lie. I didn't try very hard to stop them. You were injured and in need of immediate healing. I cannot risk using my Gift in front of those who see me, lest they discover my identity and try to convince Atoras that marrying me was a foolish decision. Letting them take you into custody and heal you so you could stand trial seemed the best way to ensure your survival.”
This time, he couldn't help a laugh. It escaped as a single harsh, humorless bark. “That was a trial? It looked more like Atoras single-handedly deciding to kill me.”
“He has not decided that. He decided...” She hesitated, searching for words. “You have a choice.”
He stared at her, waiting for an explanation.
Oria caught his eyes and held them. “You can become what I claimed, and he will let you live. Chief of my intelligence department, a spy operating within the empire and
perhaps someday beyond it. Or you can hang.”
“Not much of a choice,” Tahl said.
She sighed. “He is willing to let you live, but I cannot convince him you truly answer to me without evidence.”
He rubbed his forehead and exhaled. What other options did he have? Surrender his freedom and answer to someone else, or lose his life. “What about the guild?”
“I don't know,” the queen admitted. “I don't think I can shield them. As it is, Atoras's patience with me is thin.”
“So I lose them?”
“I believe so.”
Tahl squeezed his eyes closed.
“There is also the small problem of the thieving,” Oria continued. “Your reputation has grown. I believe you will remain feared and intimidating. But I cannot have you continuing to antagonize my husband or my city. If you work for me, you are a spy and only a spy.”
“Then the guild is out of the question. They won't follow a leader without teeth.”
“I am sorry, Tahl. Truly. I have seen how much your people mean to you.”
“I don't know what I'm supposed to say.” He fought to keep from throwing up his hands in defeat. “I don't have a choice, not really.” The admission was devastating. Everything he'd built was gone, a flash of sparks that died as embers in the air. A chance for a legacy that never took root.
Oria studied him. “Then you accept?”
“I accept,” Tahl said.
The queen nodded and slipped from the room. When the door closed behind her, Tahl felt more trapped than he had in his dungeon cell.
“But I never should have accepted that job,” he muttered to himself.
Too late now.
Chapter 18
Tahl slid his lock pick from his sleeve and ran his thumb down its length. He hadn't been sure what to do with it. His bag was gone, along with his set of favorite picks. Whether or not spies needed lock picks, he wasn't sure.
He stared at the trapdoor for longer than he probably ought, but it took time to put his thoughts in order. He'd been distracted during his trip across the city. Thoughts of home and rest called to him, but it wasn't the right time. He needed to do this. To finish what he'd started, even if the idea of ending it hurt.
Slowly, Tahl fitted his fingers to the mechanism in the stone slab and pressed the code that made it open. When the latch popped and the heavy trapdoor shifted, he exhaled in relief. He'd half expected the code to have changed.
Voices greeted him as he pushed the trapdoor open farther and crawled into the museum's basement. The second door stood open. Lantern light filled headquarters and cast shadowy outlines of figures against the walls. Whoever sat around the table set up in the center of the guild hall's main room, they were arguing. Loudly.
Tahl pushed the hatch shut until it locked and then stood.
Before he could announce his presence, someone screamed.
Everyone at the table spun to face him with a round of startled shouts.
At the far side of the table, Nia leaned forward with her hands on the tabletop. “Tahl?” she asked, her voice shaky.
His brow furrowed. “What? I can't look that bad.”
A dozen gray faces stared at him in disbelief. Ashyl pressed a hand to her mouth, her dark eyes wide. Had she been the one who screamed? The sound had been so high-pitched, he'd thought it was Nia.
“Is this why they call him the Ghost?” Jeran asked in a murmur.
Tahl frowned at him.
Nia made a cutting motion and everyone grew quiet. She cleared her throat. “Why... are you here?”
“Uh, because it's my guild and my guild headquarters?” Tahl waved at the room around them. The space was packed with goods they hadn't yet shifted. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do,” Nia said. “We were just trying to figure out a way forward, now that you're dead.” She raised an eyebrow in invitation for him to explain.
Instead, he stared at her, confused. “What?”
“We sent Perton to watch the execution,” Jeran said. “To confirm it was really you. He said you tried to escape as they took you across the courtyard. But you got hung, boss. Perton saw it happen in the square outside just a few hours ago.” He jerked a thumb toward the ceiling, indicating the plaza outside the Queen's Museum.
Tahl's brow furrowed. “I wasn't... I was still in the palace with Queen Oria until about an hour ago.” Perton's eyes were good. How did he make that mistake?
The thieves exchanged uncomfortable glances.
“Better explain what happened, Tahl,” Nia suggested.
“Well, first off, executions here don't seem to mean a whole lot. I'm not sure if any of you saw him, but Bahar Eseri was in that camp. Everyone swore they saw him die, too.” Tahl padded across the room to take a seat at the table. Lifetree's mercy, he hadn't realized how tired he was until he sat down.
A few faces frowned. Nia stared at him as if trying to see through a mask. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” He rubbed his forehead to smooth away lines of worry and weariness. “I thought they'd question me or something when I woke in the dungeon. Not sure how you learned I was there, Nia, but I appreciated your visit.” He produced the lock pick from his sleeve and held it out in offering.
She blinked in surprise and took it from his hand. “No tricks, then. It is you.”
Tahl snorted. Who else would he be? “Before I saw you, they dragged Colbin down and made him confirm who I was.” He left out what exactly that meant. No one in the guild—not even Nia—knew his surname, and he planned to keep it that way. As long as word didn't escape with the nobles, that was. “Almost immediately after you left, a half-dozen Elite came and got me and took me to meet the emperor. I noticed he had the crown.”
Jeran grimaced. “Some of the team was here. They tried to stop her, but...”
“But she used her power,” Nia finished for him. “Her... magic, I guess. None of us could even get close enough to touch her when we figured out she was trying to leave with it.”
“Doesn't matter.” Tahl waved a hand. “We'll come back to that. The queen came in as Atoras declared I would be executed. She convinced him to let me live.”
Everyone stared in silence.
“Yeah, there's a catch.” He rubbed his forehead again. He was exhausted. “Starting tomorrow, I'm head of the queen's intelligence department.”
The silence persisted.
Did they believe him? From the uneasy way some of the thieves eyed him, he wasn't positive they all believed he was really himself. Tahl fought not to sigh.
After a time, Ashyl cleared her throat. “What does that mean for us? The guild? If you're working for the crown, then...”
“Then a few things need to happen.” Tahl tapped a finger against the table as he sorted through his thoughts. “First, you need a new headquarters. The queen knows where this is, which means none of you are safe. I recommend evacuating through the tunnels, past Rupert, so nobody can follow you. Where you go after that, it's probably better that I not know.”
Nia's shoulders slumped. “You're not coming with us?”
“I can't,” Tahl said. He'd spent the past several hours puzzling over how he could hold the guild together, but he couldn't find a way around Oria's conclusion that he could not continue as leader of the guild and serve the crown at the same time. “Not only would that be likely to end with Atoras putting a noose around my neck after all, I'd be a liability to the rest of you.” He still wanted to know how they'd had a hanging without him there. It wasn't as if Tahl doubted the emperor would find someone to execute in his stead. It was more that he didn't know how they could have found a double so convincing that even Perton, one of Tahl's own men, had been fooled.
Oh well. He could look into that later. If Tahl was supposed to be head of the queen's intelligence department, looking into things would come with the job. He shook his head and went on. “After you're settled, you're to take this to the bank north of the garden district.” He with
drew a small sheet of delicate, colored paper from his pocket and slid it across the table to Nia.
She leaned forward to take it. “What's this?”
“A treasurer's check. Two hundred thousand pims, as originally agreed upon.” Tahl smiled bitterly. “The deal's been changed, somewhat, to match the story that's flooding the city. According to what everyone else has heard, the crown was ransomed back to the emperor.”
Nia unfolded the check and the other dozen thieves huddled close to look over her shoulder. “Where's the money now?” she asked.
“My account.”
Jeran blinked at him. “You have a bank account?”
“I have a lot of things.” Tahl wasn't about to elaborate. “But we're out of time for conversation. By dusk, Atoras's Elite will be here to flush out the criminals hiding in the museum's basement. I suggest none of you are here when it happens.”
Nodding, Nia tucked the check into her pocket. “You'd probably get in trouble for warning us, huh?”
Tahl flashed her a half-hearted grin. “I do seem to be good at getting myself in trouble.”
She didn't smile back. Instead, she set to giving orders to the thieves who surrounded them. The group split as they rushed to carry out their orders and take news to the guild members who weren't present.
Tahl lingered at the table as his feigned mirth faded. He'd thought the guild hall would be his new home, somewhere he built his new family and the sort of life he wanted. Instead, he watched as his recruits—former recruits, he told himself with a hint of chagrin—stripped the place bare and escaped into the tunnels below the city. Just like his father's estate in Ashor, Orrad had become a prison. Maybe cages were all he was destined for.
“Tahl?” Nia's voice rose, soft and hesitant, beside him.
He turned his head.
She looked at him as if she wasn't sure what to say, her brows drawn with worry. After a moment of searching for words and not finding any, she lurched forward to wrap him in a hug instead.
