by Cate Dean
He pushed the thought aside, and guided his stallion through the winding streets near dockside, stopping at a public stable. His stallion butted his shoulder after Ari closed him in the stall.
“You mark me, Hahn. I need to be inconspicuous.” He rubbed the palomino’s velvety nose. “Behave yourself.”
On foot, he made better time, reaching his destination just before the evening gamblers. The Black Arrow was lit with torches and colored oil lamps, tawdry and alluring at the same time. Ari never indulged in the games inside. He came for one reason; the man posing as a gambler.
He pushed through the doors, spotting the Delta right away. Damian T’Alon, son to the High Lord of Black Water, supposed outcast, probable spy. And at the moment, a gambler about to have a fist in his face.
“It is a game of chance, my friend.” Damian stood on the opposite side of the round table, his blonde braids hanging loose. Most likely as a distraction. “Nothing more, nothing less—”
“You were cheatin’ me!” The accuser’s words slurred together, telling Ari just how much he had imbibed. “I want me money back!”
“Chance does not always favor us.” Damian’s deep, quiet voice was almost hypnotic, and the man swayed, his hand falling away from the knife on his belt. “Tonight, your donation to the lady of fortune will turn around and reward you.”
“Reward?”
“Aye, my friend. A fine reward, for a fine citizen. Raine, can you pour a drink for my new friend?”
“Another one, Damian?” Ari found the half-blood, standing behind the bar. One look and he understood the young Brachon’s fascination. She had the beauty and grace of the Shira, and the earthy voice of a desert dweller. After endless seconds of staring, recognition slammed into him. No—how did she end up here? Her low voice jerked him back. “How many new friends does that make this week?”
“A man can never have too many friends.” He moved around the table, gripped the man’s elbow when the sway threatened to topple him. “I believe one drink, and an escort home is in order.”
The man blinked at him. “But I’m not—”
“Never tempt the lady. You have been more than generous tonight. Another night, it will be fortune’s turn.”
Ari made his way to the end of the bar, leaned against the mahogany top. Raine turned to help him, her welcome dying on her lips. He knew she recognized him as well, but he didn’t want her to feel awkward in what was now her home.
“Water for me, if that isn’t a bother.”
“No—of course not.” She poured him a glass from a pitcher behind the bar and set it in front of him, her cheeks flushed, but the rest of her face pale. “If you need anything else, I’ll be right over there.”
She nearly ran toward the other end of the bar before he could thank her.
He made a mental note to find out more about her, took a deep drink of the cool water, and watched Damian talk his way out of another fight. After his latest victim stumbled toward the door, Damian braced both hands on the bar, and lowered his head.
“You haven’t lost your touch, Delta.”
Those blonde braids danced when his head snapped up. Green eyes searched, and narrowed when they found Ari. “Slumming, Captain?”
Ari pushed off the bar. “News travels fast.”
“Bad faster than good. How did you talk the Duke into hiring you?”
“No talk necessary. He came looking for me.”
They met at the middle of the bar, and Ari braced himself for violence.
Damian grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. “What do you want, gladiator?”
The people in earshot backed away. Damian damaged him—with words. His past would be known everywhere, as soon as one of the gossip mongers matched his face to his old reputation.
“Your help. Spy.”
Damian flinched, but Ari was less callous. He whispered the word, so only Damian heard him.
“Outside. Captain.”
Ari nodded, and led the way through the now silent crowd. He pushed through the door, and spun in time to catch the fist aimed at the back of his head. Damian swore, jerking free.
“Feel better, T’Alon?”
“Only after I actually make contact. What do you want, Ari?”
“You’re not surprised to see me.”
“I know what happened—and I won’t spread it around,” he said, holding both hands up. “Now tell me why you lowered yourself to enter the same building I happened to occupy.”
“Fine. But if you decide this isn’t for you, you’re sworn to secrecy, on pain of my sword through your heart.”
Damian laughed, and held up one hand when Ari snarled at him. “Understood. Now tell me.”
Ari did, watching the Delta’s face as he outlined Liam’s proposal. When he finished, Damian leaned against the building, arms crossed.
“Talk, Delta.”
“I must admit, this impresses me. The old Duke refused any kind of intrigue in his city, which is why I avoided Palamar. Until I learned of his death. Why does the young Duke trust me?”
Ari smiled, at the advantage for the first time. “He’s been watching you.”
Shock flared across Damian’s face. “He—damn me, he is better than I thought. The answer is yes, gladiator.”
“Just like that.”
“Respect is the first thing I need in order to work for someone, and he earned it. So yes, just like that. When does he want me to start?”
“Right away.” Exhaustion slammed into Ari. He hadn’t left Liam’s side until he woke, and the lack of sleep was finally catching up to him.
“Whoa—” Damian grabbed his arm, settled him against the wall.
“Fine—I’m fine. Let me go.”
“Right.” Damian dropped his hands. “Come inside, eat something.”
Old panic rose up, startling him. “They will—”
“What, gladiator? Admire what you overcame? I did you a favor in there, announcing your past. How many people do you think have met a real, breathing fighter?” Ari shook his head. “Exactly. Now, let’s go take advantage of the liquor haze, and win you some local admirers.”
“Gods—you’re a terror. How does Celia put up with you?”
“I bring in the business, old man.” Executing an elegant bow, Damian opened the door, and waved Ari inside. “And with my spin, you are about to become the darling of the city.”
As long as it got him what he wanted, Ari would put up with the circus. He spent ten years pretending; one more night would hardly kill him.
~ ~ ~
Damian managed to escape the last of the gamblers, his head pounding. He needed a tall glass of water, silence, and a good night’s sleep.
Raine stood in front of his cottage, throwing that plan to the wind.
“I had a long night, Raine, and I would like to—”
“Tell me why you said yes.”
Damian raised an eyebrow. It normally shut down the patrons. Unfortunately, Raine was not as easily intimidated. He should stop trying it on her.
“Eavesdropping?”
She flashed a smile. “Absolutely.”
Laughter burst out of him. “Come inside. Maybe you can give me some suggestions.”
She sat at his small kitchen table, and he poured that glass of water, from the pitcher she always kept filled for him. Since he did not drink, Celia was more than happy to keep him supplied with the water, as it cost her nothing.
He waved at his glass. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just some answers.” The humor was gone, and she looked worried. There was another emotion under that, one he couldn’t quite see. She cleared it up for him with her next words. “I saw Ari. I remember him, Damian, from the Arena.”
“Did he recognize you?”
She shrugged, but her hands gave her away, gripping the back of the chair so tightly they shook. “If he did, he covered it well. Not that I have any choice about leaving if he did. Not with my bond holding me here
.”
“He has as much to hide as you, beautiful. I wouldn’t be worrying too much on a chance encounter.”
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t be going near the castle again anytime soon.”
He studied her. “After the kiss I walked in on, I have to say I’m surprised.”
“Let it go, Damian.”
With a sigh, he lowered himself to the chair, and flinched when one of the legs scraped the floor. Raine was at his side a moment later.
“Another headache?”
“Worse than normal.”
Her fingers hovered over his temples. “May I?”
“Please.”
He closed his eyes, and bit back a moan as her fingers pressed in.
“Let me give you my thoughts,” she murmured, her low, quiet voice as soothing as her fingers. “I think you should head to the castle first thing tomorrow and tell Ari you changed your mind.”
“Not an option.”
Her fingers paused. “What did I miss?”
“The part where Liam was attacked, in his own home.”
“Gods—”
Damian caught her arm before she bolted. “He’s fine, sweetheart. And so is your Micah.”
“He is not—” She covered her face, and Damian took pity on her, standing so he could embrace her. “It is the most ridiculous, insanely stupid thing I have ever done.”
“Falling for a good man is never stupid.”
“What about when he’s second in line to rule an entire duchy?”
“Maybe then.” He smiled when she snorted. “There’s no reason for you not to enjoy his company, Raine. He obviously enjoys yours.”
With a sigh she leaned back, meeting his eyes. “You want to do this.”
“More than I expected. You know me, Raine. I grew up surrounded by court intrigue. I may have run away from my past, but I miss parts of that life.” He kissed her forehead and let her go, needing to sit.
“Damian.” She cupped his chin and tilted his head up, slowly. “These headaches worry me.”
“I’ve had them since I was a boy.” He eased out of her grip, lifting the braids above his right ear.
“Gods.” Raine’s fingers brushed the long scar. “Why did you never tell me about this?”
“Simple. I don’t remember what happened. Only that I was found at the border of The Delta, bloody and half dead. The headaches started soon after.” He lowered the braids, exhaustion slamming into him. “I need to—” He tried to stand, to escape before he embarrassed himself.
“Whoa—” Her strong arms wrapped around his waist. “I’ve got you, Damian. Tell me what is going on.”
“Dizzy,” he mumbled. “Happens when I overextend.”
“And you want to become the Duke’s new spymaster.”
“Right.” His mind refused to form a complete sentence, so he kept silent, let Raine help him into the small bedroom.
She lowered him to the bed, crouched to remove his boots. “This is all I plan to take off, so wipe that grin off your face.”
He didn’t realize there was one. Too many late nights, with the new influx of merchants in the city. Merchants with gold, eager to empty their purse. Who was he to deny them?
Perhaps tomorrow he could turn the cards over to one of Celia’s other employees. He had a network to create, after all.
If his blasted headache decided to play nice and go away.
Seven
Liam cursed every god in the old religions as he eased his right arm into the sling the physician left him.
He wanted to look normal, to avoid giving away the fact to the traitor that they almost succeeded. His shoulder had other ideas.
A knock on the door turned him around, just before Micah opened it. His little brother strode forward, not so little anymore. They were eye level now.
“All right?”
Liam nodded. “Can you help me adjust this bloody thing?”
With a smile, Micah settled his arm in the sling, quickly and efficiently. “Better?”
“Yes, thank you.” After a hesitation, he laid his good hand on Micah’s shoulder. “I have a meeting, and I would like you to join us.”
“I—” Micah looked surprised. “Of course.”
“It has nothing to do with limiting your freedom, if that’s what worries you.”
Micah grinned. “Confining me to my rooms with Thomas standing at the end of my bed would be the only way to confine me any more than you have.”
“Don’t give me a reason, little brother.” Liam softened his words with a wink, and led the way out of his room. “I want you there because I value your opinion, and I want to know if I am headed in the wrong direction, or simply paranoid.”
“I will be happy to.”
Liam burst out laughing, some of the tension from the last few days easing. “I figured as much.”
Micah halted in the doorway, and Liam had an idea why. Ari was enough intimidation; but Damian, with his cynical smile, and exotic looks…
And his connection to Raine. Liam was an idiot.
His little brother had no idea just how much Liam knew—about Raine, and how much Micah cared for her.
It was best they part ways now, before Micah became too attached. As much as Liam admired Raine, and was grateful for what she had done for both of them, any relationship between them would only lead to heartache.
As Liam opened his mouth to tell Micah he could bow out of the meeting, Micah squared his shoulders and sat in the chair closest to the door. Hiding a smile, Liam closed the door and lowered himself to the chair at the head of the table.
Ari nodded, clearly unhappy. Liam made a mental note to find out why, and met Damian’s amused eyes. “You understand why we are meeting?”
“Absolutely, my lord Duke. You want spies.”
Micah gasped. “Liam—what are you—”
“Later, little brother. I need you to listen.” After a moment, Micah nodded, leaning forward. “Now that we all understand, tell me this, Damian—is it possible?”
“Any kind of spy network is possible, my lord. Whether it may be realistic or not, that is a different question. One I won’t be able to answer until I have done some snooping of my own.” Damian crossed his arms. “Your father never had his own information sources?”
“He didn’t believe in the subterfuge.” Liam shook his head. “I loved my father, but for him people were either good, or evil. There was no grey.”
“And a spy is all about grey.” The chair scraped over the stone floor as Damian stood. “I know I have been accused more than once, but I am no spy, my lord.”
“Please sit down,” Liam said, his voice even. “I did not ask you for that reason.”
Ari spoke for the first time since the meeting began. “Put your stubborn ass in the chair, Delta, and listen to what he has to say before you start throwing your fragile ego around.”
After a stunned silence, Damian chuckled, and sat. “I will hold on to my fragile ego,” he glanced at Ari and raised an eyebrow. “If you want an honest assessment of what can be done, I will give it. But I need a few days, and coin to ease my way around. Not shiny coin—something that looks like it has been in circulation for a while. Coin that could have been in my pocket, and not clean and pretty from the Duke’s treasury.”
“That can be arranged. You have a week, and I want a full report.”
“Payment?”
Ari snorted, but Liam smiled, expecting the request. “We can negotiate. After I see what you can bring me.”
Damian let out a long-suffering sigh. “Used again.” He stood and held out his hand. “Agreed, my lord.”
Liam accepted his hand, managed to hide his flinch when the movement jarred his shoulder. “I will see you here in a week, then.”
Ari waited until Damian left, then leaned forward, both hands braced on the table. “If I see you anywhere near the training yard, my lord, I will escort you back to your room. Personally.”
This time Liam did flin
ch. He had seen Ari’s version of escorting when one of the guard disobeyed. Micah snickering did not help. “Understood, Captain.”
One withering glance from Ari had Micah coughing. Once he left, Liam stood, tired and aching.
“Liam?” Micah was at his side, one arm around his waist. “Let’s get you back to bed. I know how an injury can catch up to you when you least expect it.”
“Thank you,” Liam mumbled. His head throbbed almost as badly as his shoulder. “Micah?”
“It stays between us, big brother.” They moved slowly to the door, Liam leaning against Micah. “Can I ask a question?”
“Ask away.” He sounded worse than he expected.
“How are you going to ride all the way to Veran next month if you can’t walk to your rooms on your own?”
It was a good question. He knew one person who may be able to help him, but bringing her here would cause Micah pain. Liam was not willing to do that.
“Do you have any of—the ointment left?”
“Raine’s magic cure? I do. Once we get you settled, I’ll bring you a jar.”
“Thank you. Again.” They were quiet, Liam focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. “Micah—”
“I don’t want to talk about her.” With a sigh, Micah’s flash of anger faded. “It’s over, Liam. I will be fine.”
“Liar.”
“I will be. Eventually.”
Glancing over at Micah, he managed a smile. “Yes, you will be. Little lordling.”
The laughter he wanted to hear echoed around them. “Hold on to me, big brother. We’ll have you better than new in time for your journey.”
Liam had no choice. As the new Duke, he needed to be part of the yearly meeting, to prove to the other kingdoms that he was a leader, worthy of the title left to him by his father.
Eight
Micah huddled in the predawn cold, watching the small traveling party prepare for the long journey to Veran.
Liam moved more easily, but Micah knew his shoulder still pained him; Ari had been working with him, training him to fight left handed. Just in case, Liam told him, brushing off the danger with a smile.
