The Complete Marked Series Box Set

by March McCarron

  “I knew it,” Peer expounded, and Bray raised a skeptical brow. “Okay, no, I didn’t have a clue. But I never liked her.”

  “No one likes her, but that’s not exactly evidence.”

  “You mentioned this to Ko-Jin?” he asked, his tone changing.

  “Not yet,” she said grimly. “I want proof first.”

  The general wouldn’t take this betrayal well, not from a sister Cosanta whom he’d personally appointed. He’d blame himself, and he already shouldered an enormous burden of guilt.

  “And where do you think you will find this proof?” Trevva asked.

  “Well,” Bray said, as they crossed through the archway and out into the quiescent streets of Accord. “I’ve been considering how Quade’s spy must be passing information. Even for someone invisible, crossing the wall and trekking on foot to Quade’s camp would be impractical. And they’d risk Fernie noticing if they came back into the city contaminated. I don’t think they can be meeting in person, and there’s no post getting in and out of the city, so…”

  “Telegrams,” Peer said.

  “Telegrams,” Bray agreed.

  “Like old times,” he murmured.

  She laughed at hearing her own thoughts echoed. He grinned down at her—a warm, familiar smile. Bray had the sudden strong urge to hug him, but she settled for bopping her shoulder against his arm as they walked. They arrived in short time.

  The downtown telegraphy office was the largest in the city, and it was nearest to the palace. Their rat might travel to a farther location, but if convenience was of foremost importance, this would be the place they’d come.

  Though most other shops were not yet open, or else were temporarily closed, the telegraphy office was lit up and fully staffed. As the only viable way to communicate beyond the walls of the capital, the industry had seen a boom in business.

  Bray pushed through the front door and a bell jangled overhead.

  “Good morning, Mistresses and Master Chisanta.”

  Bray inclined her head to the middle-aged woman who greeted them. “Good morning, ma’am. We were hoping for a private word with whoever’s in charge here.”

  “It’s Miss, actually. Miss Danver. And that would be me,” the woman said. Good for you, Bray thought. She hadn’t known women could rise to management. “Come this way. We can speak in my office.”

  They refused refreshment and settled into a trio of chairs across from the woman’s meticulous desk. Bray cleared her throat. “We just have a few questions for you. Questions of a delicate nature. I hope we can rely on your discretion?”

  “You can,” Miss Danver answered. The woman’s crisp tone reminded Bray forcefully of her mentor, Dolla Adder. Bray schooled her expression so that her pang of grief wouldn’t show. Peer still hadn’t broken the news of Dolla’s death, but Bray presumed that she’d been killed. In fact, she was certain. Her heart was attached to so few people, it couldn’t help but feel each snapping strand.

  Dolla would want you to focus, she thought sternly. So, focus.

  Bray straightened her spine. “Are there any Chisanta who send messages on a regular schedule?” Bray asked. “I’m interested in anyone who comes on the same day and time each week.”

  Bray had pondered this through most of her sleepless hours last night, and she’d come to the conclusion that Quade and his spy must keep a schedule. He couldn’t receive telegrams in the field, so he’d have to teleport to another city. And he’d have no way of knowing when his spy would have useful intelligence, as they’d have no other means of communication. So, Bray surmised, they must exchange regular reports.

  The woman considered her over a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, her mouth pursed. “People entrust us with their personal messages. It is against policy to reveal information about our patrons.”

  Bray nodded. “Yes, I understand that. But you see, I’m not asking about the content of the messages. I only wish to know who uses your service and when.” The woman opened her mouth to offer a second denial. Bray raised her hand. “We wouldn’t ask for such data frivolously. We’ve reason to believe one of our own is sending information to Quade Asher.”

  At the mention of their enemy’s name, Miss Danver flinched in her seat—as if Asher were the Spiritblighter himself, and naming him could be a summons. “How could that be possible? We send no telegrams to the enemy line, I assure you,” she said in a weak voice.

  “He can teleport.”

  Miss Danver’s gaze was measuring, and it flitted to Peer and Trevva in turn. She drew breath through her nose, as if to steel herself. “Very well. There’s a Cosanta woman who comes every week. A blonde, perhaps thirty years old. Her face is covered in freckles,” Miss Danver’s lips pinched in a telling way. “A most unpleasant young woman.”

  Bray’s pulse quickened. She leaned forward in her seat. “Do you keep record of when and where telegrams are sent?”

  “We do. Though we don’t archive the messages themselves.”

  “That’s fine. Anything you can give us would be an enormous help.”

  A short time later, Bray, Peer, and Trevva sat on the curb outside, comparing the records of Britt’s telegrams with Trevva’s journal.

  The Adourran woman kept written accounts of Quade’s location every hour of the day, apart from sleeping hours, and had been doing so for seven months. He was typically with his army, but he periodically popped to other cities across the kingdoms.

  His movements appeared random. Britt’s telegrams, also, appeared random: different days of the week, different times, different cities.

  Only when these two sets of data were set side by side did the pattern become clear. A rotation.

  “It is a geographic circle,” Trevva said, drawing a map with her finger. “Well, more of an oblong. But there are twelve cities, and…” she trailed off, her brow furrowing.

  “They switch from clockwise to counter-clockwise with each rotation,” Bray said.

  “And they push the day forward each week,” Peer said. “But I can’t figure out the time.”

  No doubt there was a pattern, but Bray was also stumped. “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s always either morning or night. We’ll assume morning, and wait.”

  Peer grunted. “Looks like you’ve finally got him.”

  A dagger of a smile split Bray’s face.

  He was right. She had Quade, now. In two days’ time, he would be apart from his army, undefended, in the town of Greystone.

  And they would be waiting for him.

  Chae-Na watched the blade slide between her ribs. This time, Bray wasn’t there to save her. Blood streamed down her side.

  “Come, Chae-Na,” Jo-Kwan said.

  He stood on the ramparts among the common archers, but he did not belong. Her brother appeared lit up from within—he shone. Noise and chaos surrounded them, but his voice was loud and crisp in her ears.

  “Jo-Kwan?”

  He offered his hand. “It’s all over now. It’s time to come Home.”

  “I cannot,” Chae-Na said. “I haven’t finished here.”

  He smiled sadly. “Death doesn’t wait for us to be ready.” He nodded his head to the ground, and Chae-Na looked down—to where her body lay sprawled with open, lifeless eyes.

  Dead.

  Chae-Na woke with a gasp, sitting upright in bed. The stitches in her side tugged, and she hissed. The wound throbbed in tandem with her heartbeat. She traced the assassin’s autograph on her flesh, skin hot beneath her fingertips. The slash was no longer than her thumb. Such a small thing, and yet it had nearly cost her life.

  Pulse slowing, she loosed a heavy breath. Her brother’s voice chanted in her head like an echo. Death doesn’t wait, death doesn’t wait…

  Beside her, Veldon rolled over in his sleep. The morning light gleamed along the lines of his ribcage and dipped into the hollow of his hip. The bedsheet was doing little to conceal him.

  Chae-Na’s face flushed in remembrance. She’d never imagined the str
esses of battle would make her so…wanton.

  Though, if she was being honest with herself, it was not just the battle. The pleasures of the flesh were a heady tonic. Her mind went blissfully quiet every time she made love to her husband.

  Not that she was in love…

  Gingerly, Chae-Na slipped from bed, her bare skin prickling. She donned her dressing gown and secured the silken belt, but still felt exposed.

  Veldon blinked into the light. “Come back to bed, wife,” he rasped.

  She’d meant to leave without disturbing him, but it was good that he’d woken. They needed to have a difficult conversation, and she was newly eager to live her life with urgency—to stop assuming she had endless time before her. Chae-Na climbed back into bed, grimacing at the tug in her side.

  He roused more fully as he remembered her injury. “How is it?”

  “Not inflamed,” she said, determined to downplay the matter. She had every intention of going to battle again, and so playing the invalid now would not help her purpose. “I am glad you’re awake. I’ve something I would like to discuss with you.”

  He looked different in the morning: sleepy-eyed and less stern, with his hair sticking out every which way. Dawn-light played across his fair skin, highlighting all the dips and grooves in his chest. He was a compact man, but well-built.

  “A discussion? Are you certain that’s what you’d like?” He snagged her hand and pressed a hot kiss against the fluttering pulse at her wrist.

  “Yes, I’m afraid. It’s a matter of import. Perhaps you should dress yourself.”

  “I can discuss serious matters in this state,” he said, his blue eyes crinkling.

  “Very well,” Chae-Na said, knowing he would change his mind. “I want to offer Mae Bowlerham an official title as my partner—a queenship.”

  He made a sound that was somewhere between a croak and a laugh. “Yes, I had better put on some clothes for this.”

  He stood, and she blushed but did not avert her gaze. It was a little late for modesty between them, and he didn’t seem to mind. Chae-Na wasn’t terribly familiar with the male bottom, but she thought Veldon’s must be particularly nice.

  He slipped into his own dressing gown, tried to tame his hair, failed, then settled back upon the bed.

  His expression was all business. “Why?” he asked.

  “I know that Jo-Kwan spoke to you about offering the same to Linton Bearnall, before his death. The paperwork was already drawn up, then. It was a well-considered plan on his part, well researched. And it was…it was his dying wish. He died trying to do this. He wanted representation for both the landed and un-landed citizens of Trinitas.”

  “Yes, he and I discussed it at length,” Veldon said. “A system modeled after the golden age of Chasku, when there were two kings. But I did not think you agreed.”

  “I didn’t, then. But now everything’s changed, hasn’t it? Mae and I have worked in unison. The Pauper’s Men have been instrumental in city patrols. Arlow and Foy have arranged rations. All of this has been witnessed by the people. The idea that we should go back to how things were before…” She shook her head. “Well, it’s ludicrous. You cannot put the fireflies back in the jar. Once they’re out, they’re out.”

  He appeared to be considering her words. Her heartbeat quickened as she watched him think. She realized, suddenly, that it was important to her that he agree.

  “Very well,” he said slowly, thoughtfully. “But why now? You married me to secure your throne—” a flash of something sharp, perhaps hurt, clouded his eyes “—why, a month later, risk upsetting the aristocracy with the aim of lessening your own power?”

  Death doesn’t wait for us to be ready.

  Chae-Na unconsciously grazed fingers against her wound, and he tracked that motion with his keen eyes. She made herself smile, so her words would not sound so stark. “I nearly died yesterday. And all I could think afterwards was that Melerre might take the throne. You could easily be pushed aside. And the idea of my cousin taking Mae seriously is laughable.” Chae-Na paused, swallowed. “Mae has been my partner in all of this. I need to know that, should anything happen to me, she will continue our work.”

  These reasons were all true, but the truest came from her heart, not her head. She recalled the Jo-Kwan from her dream, her dazzling brother.

  “And it’s what Jo-Kwan wanted,” Veldon said, guessing correctly at her feelings.

  Chae-Na could only nod. “And I wish I had more time with him, so I could tell him he was right. That I understand now.” Her throat pinched, and she drew in a breath, determined not to cry. She switched to a teasing tone of voice. “But I know you only agreed so you might steal his crown. I’m wondering if you’ve changed your mind, now that it won’t get you what you want.”

  He gazed upon her face with an intensity that made her squirm. “I already have what I want. If it is your will, then let it be so.”

  Chae-Na looked away, her face heating. “Thank you,” she said. She cleared her throat. “If you are amenable, I should like to have it settled today.”

  “Today?” he echoed in surprise.

  “Not publicly, of course. We will need to work over the peerage, and there must be an announcement and a coronation. But in the meantime, I should like the paperwork signed, so it shall be official. Just in case…”

  “Today,” he said again, sounding a bit flummoxed. “As you like. I have a meeting in an hour, but am available the rest of the afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Veldon,” Chae-Na said, forcefully. Earnestly. “We will ride together after lunch. I want to see the baby, anyway.”

  She pressed a kiss to his cheek and felt him smile beneath her lips. Her stomach quivered, uncomfortable with their unequal degrees of affection. Kissing him with passion came easily enough, but these lighter, ordinary kisses were still awkward. “I had better dress.”

  She glided through their connecting door, into her own chamber. Leaya dressed her, fashioning her hair into a crown of braids. All the while, Chae-Na gazed absently at her reflection, trying to untangle her feelings.

  Every shred of happiness came entwined with another emotion, one that was bitter and thorny and difficult to shed—guilt. She couldn’t enjoy Veldon’s company without feeling as if she were betraying someone else.

  His face flashed in her mind’s eye: General Sung Ko-Jin.

  Chae-Na should never have kissed him. Not that first time, hidden between snowy hedges on the day her brother died, nor any of the times that came after.

  She shouldn’t have crossed that line. If they’d remained only friends, she would not have broken his heart, or her own.

  The last time they spoke, she’d been so sharp with him. It was a character fault of hers: her unhappiness often read as anger.

  She needed to apologize. If she’d died yesterday, their story would have ended on such a sour note. It fell to her to clear the air between them, and the sooner the better.

  “Thank you Leaya,” Chae-Na said, admiring her hair. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

  “It was nothing, Your Majesty.”

  Chae-Na rose and swept from the room. She set off with purpose, stalking down the hallway, her skirts swirling around her feet.

  She visited Ko-Jin’s office first, but found it empty. She stood staring at his desk, stumped, until it occurred to her where he must be—the roof. When he seemed to be nowhere, he was usually overhead.

  By the time she made it all the way up the stair, she was short of breath. She spilled out into a cool morning and released a sigh at the sight of him.

  Ko-Jin stood with his back to her, leaning against the parapet, gazing out over the city. The bright summer light shone in his dark hair.

  He didn’t turn as she approached, though he certainly heard her footfall. She leaned her back to the railing, so they stood side by side but faced opposite directions. It seemed a fitting orientation.

  “You’re well?” he asked, eyes locked on the horizon.


  “I am,” she said.

  She was still gathering up her courage when he launched into rapid speech. “I’ve been wanting to apologize for my behavior of late. I know I haven’t made things easy between us. I’m going to try and do better, if you’ll let me.” He grimaced in a self-deprecating way. “Until this war is over, you and I need to work together. We need to trust each other. So…I’m, well, I’m just going to…stop. I’m going to stop now. And I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” she said weakly. “I’ve also wanted to apologize. I’m afraid I handled everything poorly. I certainly never wished to hurt you.”

  He shrugged. “That’s love. People get hurt. I care for you, still—enough to be glad you’re happy.”

  “‘Happy’ might be overstating the matter. But, then, I always knew I couldn’t keep you. It was just a dream, you and I—” her voice softened as she spoke “—and dreams come to an end.”

  He glanced sideways, meeting her eye for the first time. His lips formed the ghost of a smile. “I thought I knew that too, but I guess I didn’t. Not really. If I had, all of this wouldn’t have come as such a shock. But I’ve got no right to go about acting betrayed. You were always honest with me.”

  She moved to pat his arm, but decided physical contact might not send the right message, and let her hand fall. “I’m sorry, Ko-Jin. Truly. And I feel the same way, you know. I want you to be happy. You are…” She laughed and shook her head. “Well, you’re you. When you decide you’re ready, I have no fear you’ll struggle to find love again.” She thought he was blushing, and she never could resist his blushes. She took a half-step away.

  Ko-Jin heaved a sigh that seemed to cost him. And then he turned to her and extended his hand. “Friends?”

  Both of their smiles were decidedly strained, but it was a start. “Friends,” she agreed, and they shook. He released her hand immediately, without lingering. Which was for the best.

  “Good,” she said, forcing a lighter tone. “Now that we’re friends again, I’d like for you to come with me and Veldon into the Narrows today. I’ve got something to discuss with Mae, and it would mean a lot to have you there.”