by Claire Luana
Wren blew out a breath. By the Beekeeper! She had heard rumbles of unrest in Maradis, of the burdensome impact the king’s domestic policy was having on the lower class of the city, but to be surrounded by enemies on every side… She didn’t envy the next guildmaster their role.
“Pretty words or pie-in-the-sky promises will not be enough to navigate our ship, as Grandmaster Swift so aptly put it, through the treacherous waters ahead. We need clear-headed and shrewd leadership. We need willingness to sacrifice, to make difficult decisions, to protect the safety and security of our guild from any threat, even a threat from the inside.”
Callidus looked directly at Wren; his powerful gaze pinning her to her seat like an arrow.
“I am that leader. I am the only one who seems to remember why we are even here today. Our guildmaster was murdered. I watched Kasper die. Watched the light leave his eyes. Someone killed him. Someone who may very well be sitting in this room.”
Whispers snaked throughout the crowd and Wren felt the blood drain from her, leaving her an empty shell. Faces turned her direction, pointing eyes and mouths and fingers.
“That’s enough, Callidus,” Sable thundered, standing, her chair rocking back behind her.
Wren tensed to flee, her breath coming in quick gasps. The murmuring of the crowd pressed upon her, a living angry thing, bringing flashes of memories to the front of her mind. The feeling of being cornered, of being small and powerless, swept over her. She hated that feeling, had forgotten it for a time in the relative peace of her apprenticeship under Oldrick. But who was she kidding? It had never really gone. Magic or no, she would always be weak and alone.
Callidus continued, assuring the Guild that he was the only one to take the threat seriously, who had the cunning and will to do what needed to be done.
Panic thrummed through her, and her muscles tensed to run. She needed to get out of here, be away from these people and their accusing eyes. As she started to rise, Hale grasped her hand in his own, his grip painful. “Sit,” he hissed in her ear. “If you move, you’re the target.”
“I’m already the target,” Wren hissed back.
“The focus is still on him,” Hale retorted.
Wren saw he was right. Callidus was coming to the final crescendo of his tirade. But the urge to flee was powerful—she felt like a flighty deer in a den of wolves.
“Stay. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Hale whispered. His hand was warm and firm, and it made the difference. In that moment, he reminded her so powerfully of Hugo that the pain of her brother’s memory took her breath away. A long time ago, she had felt safe. Hugo had been that shelter from the uncertainty of the world, from her father’s drunken rages. To have found that again… she didn’t dare hope.
Callidus finally finished and the audience erupted, applause and voices filling the space.
“Settle down, settle down!” Using Beckett’s shoulders as a railing, Swift stood on Callidus’s chair, shouting over the din. The crowd quieted, stunned at the sight of the frail man teetering over them. “It is time to vote. Ballots have been handed out to the masters. Mark your vote and drop them in the box at the back. Then, join me in the dining hall for a meal!”
With Sable’s help this time, Swift made it to the ground, where he retrieved his cane. He began the slow walk to the back of the room while the other guild members began marking paper ballots.
Wren let out a breath. Hale loosened his death grip on her fingers. “Are you sure you made those caramels right?”
A shaky laugh escaped Wren, but it died on her lips as her eyes met Callidus’s. He was staring right at her, a silent herald of doom amongst the buzz of voices.
“We wait until everyone is gone,” Hale said. “And we’ll sneak out the back.”
Chapter 15
Hale shouldered into the conservatory, his hand wrapped around hers.
As they drew deeper into the shadows of the foliage, Wren felt the tension in her body begin to uncoil.
“Fool!” Hale exploded, knocking a potted herb onto the ground with a powerful strike.
Wren jumped away from him with wide eyes, backing against a workbench draped with ferns, rattling them with her body.
Hale turned and took in her wide eyes and white face. “I’m sorry, Wren—not you. Callidus.” He advanced and enveloped her in his arms, pulling her tightly against his chest. She stiffened, but the solid comfort of his arms soothed the alarm ringing in her senses, and she leaned into him. For once, his nearness—the leather and musk scent of him—didn’t send all reason fleeing from her mind. Yes, Hale was the most handsome man she had ever seen. But she wanted more from him than a fling—or even a romance. She wanted something that she hadn’t had in a long time. A friend.
Voices sounded outside the door, and he pulled her farther into the conservatory, to a vine-draped corner illuminated by rays of sunlight pooling through the glass walls.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the little table and chairs, and she obliged, her knees shaky. “I can’t believe he pointed the finger at you in front of the whole guild,” Hale said. “He really doesn’t like you, does he?”
“I have that effect on people,” Wren joked, her voice hoarse. A feeling of wretchedness washed over her. Why did he hate her so much?
“Nonsense,” he said. “You’re perfectly lovely.”
She found a smile crossing her face. “Do you think Sable will win?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Sable is the newest grandmaster. We knew Callidus’s chances were stronger to start. It depends on whether his fearmongering resonates with people.”
It resonated with me, Wren thought. “I didn’t realize things were so bad. I had heard about the war in Tamros… Do you really think Aprica will attack?”
Hale nodded grimly. “That bastard on the throne is hungry. Nothing will ever be enough for him. Could be a month, could be a year. He’ll come.” Hale’s eyes flashed, the thick muscles of his jaw stiff with anger. “But don’t worry about that right now. Our one and only job is to figure out who killed Kasper.”
Wren’s emotions roiled, circling down into despair. “We’re no closer to discovering anything. We know about the whiskey… maybe Lucas has discovered something.” Since yesterday? Her skepticism harried her.
“Don’t pin your hopes on him.” Hale shook his head. “The inspector’s office has their own agenda.”
Wren groaned. “Does anyone not have an agenda?”
“Welcome to the world of the guilds, my swan,” Hale said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go steal us some food from the kitchen. We can hide in here and have a little picnic. The votes won’t be counted until tonight, and I don’t think you should be in the dining room today.”
“Okay.”
With a nod, Hale was gone, leaving her alone with motes of dust dancing in the sunlight and the fragrance of green for company.
Wren closed her eyes, trying to summon her courage, whatever toughness she had developed in her time on the street. They felt weak and atrophied from years of labor under Master Oldrick’s direction. It had been a simple life, exhausting and monotonous, but she’d known where her next meal was coming from, and had slept hard and deep behind a locked door. The comfort had been hard-won and its loss now petrified her. She had hardened in her two years with Ansel’s Red Wraith gang, or had seemed to, anyway. If she was being honest with herself, her hardness in those years had never been hers—it had belonged to the Wraiths. It had been easy to be brave and bold with allies at her side, friends to watch her back. Beneath them, the ever-present fear had remained, leaving her thin and brittle. And when it had all gone to hell and Ansel had betrayed her… she had shattered. No, she had never been brave. Not really.
Movement flickered at the other end of the conservatory and Wren ducked down, peering through the foliage. It wasn’t Hale.
“We need to call in extra staff for the gala tomorrow.” It was Olivia’s voice. Wren relaxed. Thank the Beekeeper.
&n
bsp; “There’s no one else I trust.” The other figure was Guildmistress Greer, her curving form backlit against the open doorway. “We don’t even know that all of our staff is trustworthy—we can’t be bringing in strangers from other guilds. It’s bad enough that the catering staff, valets, and footmen are unknown.”
“You can’t believe there’s still a threat to members of the Guild, do you?” Olivia sounded stricken.
“Until Kasper’s killer is brought to justice, I can’t afford to think otherwise. Now, are preparations made for tomorrow? Everyone knows their places and tasks?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Olivia said. “I’ll go over the schedule with the maidservants before breakfast tomorrow. I’ve drawn a map of the decor and table settings; they’ll get to it as soon as dawn breaks. I’ll be picking up the flowers from the market with Trina, and we’ll spend the afternoon arranging. Caterers from the other guilds arrive at two p.m. to start cooking, musicians and other vendors at six.”
“The fermenting guilds will have all the alcohol delivered before four, as I asked?”
“Yes, Grandaunt, for the third time.” Wren could practically hear Olivia roll her eyes. “The only thing I can’t figure out is when I’m going to get into Guildmaster Kasper’s office to clean it out. Can you believe Callidus is insisting on moving in the day after tomorrow, should he win the vote? We’ll all be dead on our feet from pulling off the gala of the decade, and all he can worry about is getting his dusty books on the shelf.”
Dismay filled Wren. Was Callidus so sure of his victory he was already moving in?
Greer harrumphed. “Forget him. If he wants to move in so soon, he can move himself. Leave Kasper’s office alone.”
“Music to my ears,” Olivia said.
“What in the name of a spicer—?” Greer said. “Hale? What do you think you’re doing?”
“Ladies, good morning,” he said, his deep voice syrupy sweet. “Let’s see. I’m slipping into an abandoned room with a plate of fruit and cheeses and a bottle of sparkling wine. What do you think I’m doing?”
“You have no shame,” Olivia said, sounding much less scandalized than her words implied.
He moved into the room. “Now if you could find another dark corner, I’d be much obliged. I’ve claimed this one.”
“Hale, one of these days, that beautiful face of yours is going to get you into trouble.” Greer tsked.
“I’m counting on it,” he said.
Wren rolled her eyes. She could practically see his wink as he leaned in towards the ladies conspiratorially.
“Until later,” Olivia said, a wistful sigh in her voice.
In a blink, Hale deposited his treasure on the table with a victorious air.
“Now they’re going to think you and I are… up to something,” Wren said, her arms folded.
“They don’t know it’s you,” he said, unscrewing the wire cage atop the wine cork. “At least I presume, as you remained sitting silently as a field mouse.”
“Running out of bird metaphors?”
“I’m regrouping. Don’t think you’re off the hook.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Wren said. “Isn’t it a little early for wine?” From the two glasses he had set down, he intended her to have some too.
“Not so, my little whip-poor-will. We’re making mimosas.” Hale flourished a bow before pulling three oranges out of his back pocket. He tossed them to Wren, one-two-three in quick succession, and with flailing hands, she managed to drop all of them.
Hale let out a golden peal of laughter at Wren’s cross look, leaning over her to pick them up off the floor. He deposited them gently in her hands. “You really do have no hand-eye coordination.”
“Only when it comes to most everything but confectionery.” She squashed a creeping flush of embarrassment. A lack of coordination was the least of her worries.
“I would say that more than makes up for your other deficiencies.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Wren said, setting the oranges down and slicing herself a chunk of creamy white cheese. She smeared it on a cracker and popped it in her mouth. The tangy herb-infused flavor of the cheese exploded on her tongue, silky and creamy as the finest ganache. “Dis is uh-maz-ng,” she said around a mouthful of cracker. “What is it?”
“Herbed goat cheese,” Hale said, twisting the cork out of the wine with a satisfying pop. “From the Cheesemonger’s Guild.”
“I love it,” she said. “I am in love.”
“That’s enough to make a fellow jealous of the cheese,” he said, pouring wine into a slender flute.
“I would marry this cheese,” she said, slathering another cracker.
Hale sliced the oranges and squeezed the juice into their glasses, little concerned by the sticky juice dribbling down his muscular forearm.
He handed her the glass, licking the juice off his fingers. He held his glass aloft. “To supporting, or confounding, the next Head of the Confectioner’s Guild.”
“Here, here,” she said, clinking her glass with his own. She didn’t want to drink much, but his kindness in trying to distract her was touching. So she took a small cautious sip of the concoction, letting its sweet flavor wash over her taste buds. The bubbles tickled her nose, but the flavor was outstanding, as fresh and cheerful as a summer morning.
“Thank you, Hale,” she said earnestly, looking him in the eyes. “For your kindness. It has been… an unexpected bright spot.”
He cleared his throat, looking away. Too earnest, it seemed. “So, eavesdrop on anything good?” he asked.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” she protested. “I didn’t want to bother them.”
“Of course.” That devilish wink. “Did you hear anything good while you weren’t eavesdropping?”
“No,” Wren said, taking a more generous sip. She liked this stuff. “They were going over plans for tomorrow. Oh, you wouldn’t believe Callidus. He’s so sure of his victory that he’s already demanding to move into Kasper’s office.”
“Ass,” Hale said.
Wren chuckled, raising her glass to her lips for another sip. She froze.
“What is it?”
“If Callidus moves in, Lucas won’t be able to do any further investigation. The scene will be compromised. What if there are more clues?”
“The inspector isn’t done?” Hale asked, his voice neutral.
“I don’t know,” she said, gnawing at a fingernail absentmindedly. “There were letters to go through, files… I don’t know if he made it through them all. And in the desk drawer where we found the wine…”
“What?” Hale asked.
“It’s probably nothing, but it seemed like there might have been a panel in the drawer… a false bottom.”
Hale leaned forward. “Did you find anything in it?”
“No, we didn’t get a chance to look. Callidus came in.”
“There could be something in there. Something important.”
“I’m sure I’m imagining it,” Wren said, taking another sip before stealing a cluster of grapes from the plate. The drawer swam into her mind as she popped one of the cool grapes into her mouth. The way the whiskey bottle had been laid down… the drawer should have been deep enough to stand the bottle on its end.
Hale speared a wedge of cheese with a hard cracker and chomped it down before tossing back the rest of his mimosa. “Let’s check it out.”
“What?” Wren said. “No! I was forbidden from entering the office.”
“Do you always do as you’re told?” Hale asked.
“No,” Wren said, bristling. Yes, the little voice in her head corrected. “I don’t want to jeopardize the investigation. And how would we get in, anyway? There’s a guard in the hallway.”
Hale considered this. “The secret passage doesn’t extend to the third floor, unfortunately…”
“The secret passage?” Wren asked, incredulous.
“Oh, Wren,” Hale said. “You have so much to learn.”
Wren considered. It would be good to get back in the office one more time before it officially transferred to enemy territory. Of course, if Sable won the position of guildmaster, it wouldn’t be necessary. But if she didn’t…
“We did eat your caramels,” Hale said. “And everyone is busy downstairs. There’s no time like the present.”
Wren’s heart thudded. She only had two weeks left until the king and his inquisitor returned. She couldn’t let any opportunity pass her by. She thought of Callidus’s journal, once so tantalizingly close, now so far out of reach. An unexplained courage raced through her veins. “Olivia showed me a way onto the roof. Do you think we could get in through his window?”
“I think there’s only one way to find out,” Hale said, his dimples flashing.
Chapter 16
Wren and Hale hurried past the din of the dining hall, taking the stairs two by two. The antechamber of the hall was empty.
Wren’s heart pounded in her throat as they made their way onto the rooftop. Maradis was awash with light, stone and granite buildings carved like fondant, the sea a glittering sapphire in the distance.
“I miss Aprica sometimes,” Hale said. “Especially when the rain and gray come in the winter. But Maradis sure knows how to impress.”
So he was from Aprica. “Why did you leave?” Wren asked as they walked across the flat rooftop.
“We fled when King Evander, the current ruler, came to power. My father was a cabinet minister under the former king. He was killed when the crown changed hands. My mother, brother, and I fled. We were aiming for Tamros at first, but… things got complicated, and I thought Maradis would be safer.” His words grew hard. “Perhaps nowhere will be far enough.”
“Where’s your family now?”
“My brother was killed by bandits soon after leaving Aprica. My mother died in the Red Plague two years ago. Sable took me in.”
“I’m sorry,” Wren murmured, stopping at the roof’s fenced edge, which came up to her waist. Perhaps that explained why Hale treated Sable differently from anyone else. In a way, she had rescued him. “My parents are dead too,” Wren said.
