Tristam tensed. “Sir?” he asked.
“The small amount of poison left in her body shouldn’t interfere overly much with her health,” said Willem. “We believe that the need for her final dose should motivate her to return to the Palace.”
“I see.” So they were holding the poison over her as a threat. “Did Ilona agree?”
“Ilona knows her place. She will bow to the wishes of the Council.”
“Perhaps we should wait for Malikel’s return.”
“There’s no time. The last dose of antidote is to be delivered this week. Either way, the Council has made a decision.”
An unpleasant suspicion came to mind. “And if Kyra refuses to do this, will she still get the antidote?”
“Venom antidote is scarce. Without Far Rangers to replenish our stores, we need to ration our supplies wisely. And that includes prioritizing those who are actively serving the Palace. Do I gather that you object, Tristam?”
Tristam fought to keep his voice even. “If I may speak freely, Your Grace, I’ve been working hard to win her trust, and a move like this may undermine my efforts.”
“I understand your concern, but the city is in danger. We don’t have time to proceed gradually.”
Tristam looked down, reminding himself to speak carefully, that he was addressing the most powerful man in Forge. “I suppose, Your Grace, that these tactics remind me too much of what the Assassins Guild would do.”
“How so?”
“It’s underhanded, and it’s cowardly.”
Willem’s expression hardened. “Watch your tongue, young knight. You speak above your station.”
The rebuke hit him with almost physical force. Tristam took a slow breath. “My apologies, Your Grace. I spoke inappropriately.”
“One of my biggest misgivings about putting you in charge of the prisoner was your youth. At your age and experience, I worried that you’d be unduly influenced by a female prisoner so close to your own age. I expressed my doubts to Malikel, but he vouched for your maturity and character. I hope you don’t prove him wrong,” said Willem. “Remember that we’re working toward the same goals. You lost a good friend to the Demon Riders, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you do wish to defeat them, do you not?”
“Yes, sir.” And the frustrating thing was, he did. He still wanted it, more than anything. And now that Willem had put the idea in his head, he could see how Kyra could help them if she were willing. But that was the sticking point. She wouldn’t be willing with a threat like this hanging over her.
“Remember also, that the prisoner is already under a death sentence. We are offering her a chance to avoid it. Can I be assured of your cooperation, Tristam?”
It wasn’t really a question. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Good. Then I will accompany you to speak with her.”
“Now?”
“I see no reason to wait.”
Tristam was surprised at how desperately he wanted to stall, but he couldn’t find a way. He was bound to obey the Council, and Willem was its head.
Kyra was sitting at her table when they walked in. Under Ilona’s expert care, the color had returned to her cheeks, and her dark eyes were alert. She didn’t look like an assassin. She looked like a young girl—a pretty one at that, with her small stature and delicate features. She started to say a greeting but stopped when the head councilman walked in.
“This is the prisoner?” asked Willem.
Kyra looked away. Her expression grew stony.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Willem gave her an evaluating look. “She’s small, for all the trouble she’s caused.”
Kyra didn’t respond or remove her eyes from the floor. But Tristam had spent enough time with her to see the slight stiffening of her posture, the way she curled slightly more into herself. He cut in before the councilman could continue.
“Kyra, we came to ask something of you. It’s dangerous, but you might appreciate the opportunity to go outside.”
She took a cautious glance up at the mention of “outside.”
Willem gave Tristam an expectant look, and Tristam cleared his throat. “As you know, I spent some time in the forest tracking down the Demon Riders. I did find them once, but they nearly killed me. The Council thinks you may have better luck than I.”
“Better luck tracking them down?” She spoke quietly, her eyes flickering occasionally to Willem.
“I can help you track them down. What we need is someone who can observe them without getting caught. I’ve seen you move. If anyone could spy on them undetected, it’d be you.”
“I see.” He could see her trying to figure out if there was more to the story. “Do you have a plan?”
“We’d have to clear the specifics with the Council, but you’d probably spend a few days with me in the forest. We can ride out under cover of night, and we’ll find a place where the tracks are thick. Then, we just wait.”
“You want me to watch them, not fight them?”
“We want to know where they live and how many there are. What their plans are and if they have any weaknesses.”
She pursed her lips and eyed him cautiously. “I can’t stay quiet if I’m dragging chains.”
And here it went. He took a breath. “You won’t be chained.”
Her eyebrows flew up at this. “The Council will let me run free in the forest?”
He didn’t answer, resentment locking his jaw tight. Willem broke in. “Your last few doses of antidote will be withheld for now. Ilona will give you the rest after you complete this task.”
Tristam saw the exact moment when it sank in, when her expression changed from wary consideration to cold understanding. “I see.” Her voice took on an edge. “I don’t really have a choice.”
He felt some contrary satisfaction in seeing her anger. For a moment, Tristam was tempted to sit back and watch things unravel. But then Willem looked at him, a clear warning in his gaze.
“Remember, Kyra,” said Tristam, “everything you do in service could be considered by the Council in lightening your sentence.”
“I’m just a bloodhound, in’t I? And the poison’s my leash.”
“We’re trying to help you.” The words tasted false on his tongue.
“Of course. Like the Assassins Guild wanted to help me.”
“The Assassins Guild wanted to kill you, Kyra.”
“And you’ll delay my death. If I’m useful.” The betrayal in her eyes was directed straight at him, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit.
He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he saw Willem watching him. He wasn’t going to convince Kyra with platitudes that he didn’t even believe. As much as he hated this, he was a knight of Forge and duty-bound to serve the Council.
“Councilman,” he said, “may I please have a word alone with Kyra?”
“You may have a moment.”
As the door closed behind Willem, Kyra turned her gaze back to Tristam, her entire body tense. Tristam closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
“Kyra, I’m sorry about this. It’s not my decision. It was handed down by the Council.”
“And you’re helping.”
“I don’t have a—” He stopped and gathered himself. “Look, it doesn’t have to be like this. I know it’s an underhanded tactic, but really, even if the Council weren’t holding the poison as a threat, you’d do it anyway.”
Kyra regarded him as if he were a snake about to strike. “And why is that?”
“Because you helped bring the Demon Riders to Forge.”
His words affected her just as he’d expected. She winced. He’d already used her guilt against her once, when he’d brought her to the manservant’s funeral. At the time, he hadn’t thought twice about the tactic, but now that they had the beginnings of trust between them, it felt dirty. He reminded himself of the vows he’d taken to Forge and forced himself to continue on.
�
�I know you’re sorry, Kyra, and I know you want to make amends for it. This is your chance. Don’t think about the Council or the threats. What matters is that the city won’t be safe until we drive out the barbarians.”
Tristam watched the emotions flicker across her face—anger, confusion, and regret. She was quiet for a long time, and even as Tristam’s skin crawled from the trap he’d woven around her, he realized that he hoped she’d agree. Not only because he wanted to defeat the Demon Riders, but because if he could convince her that she wanted this, she’d hate him less for playing along with the Palace’s games.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
He thanked her. She didn’t look at him as he left.
As the door closed behind him, their earlier conversation about James drifted back to him. James is a strong leader, she’d said. He manipulates people and uses their emotions against them. At the time, he’d thought James cunning and ruthless, a dangerous man with no principles. But as Tristam entered Willem’s study to deliver the news, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been too quick to judge.
T W E N T Y - F I V E
“Watch out!” shouted Tristam.
Kyra jumped back, barely avoiding the mare’s flailing hooves. The horse tossed her head and rolled her eyes, and Kyra backed even farther away, trying not to imagine what would have happened if she’d been just a hair slower.
“I told you horses don’t like me.”
The mare stopped kicking, though she stamped her feet and snorted in Kyra’s direction.
“Now I believe you.” Tristam inched closer, cautiously reaching out to take the horse’s reins.
The young man Tristam had introduced as Martin whispered to the horse and stroked its mane. “If Muse won’t take her, I don’t know who will. We in’t going to find a gentler horse.”
It annoyed Kyra to be talked about as if she weren’t there. “Forget this,” she said. “I’ll take my chances with the poison.”
Tristam raised his eyebrows and turned back to the mare. And he was right not to believe her. As much as she resented the Council’s games, now that she was in the stables, so close to the open air, there was no way she was going back to her locked room.
They fared no better the second time. The third time, Muse’s hoof clipped Kyra’s shoulder, and she stumbled back against the wall.
“Kyra!” Tristam reached a hand to steady her.
She shot him a furious look.
“That didn’t sound good,” said Martin.
“May I?” Tristam asked, motioning toward her shoulder.
She almost wished it were broken, just so Tristam could deliver the news to Willem. Tristam peeled her hand away from her shoulder and probed it with his fingertips. She drew a sharp breath when he pressed on the bruise. Though truth be told, he was being very gentle—his brows furrowed in concentration, his eyes going frequently to her face to check if he was hurting her. These days, she didn’t know what to think of Tristam. Moments like this tempted her to let down her guard, but then he’d do something—lie to her family about her death, act as Willem’s mouthpiece—to lose her trust. Kyra’s legs started to cramp, and she realized it was because she was still trying to back away from him into the barn wall. She scowled and forced herself to relax.
“It doesn’t feel broken.”
She reluctantly raised her arm. “I think I’m all right.”
Tristam exhaled in relief. “We’re going to have to find some other way. Wait here,” he said, motioning to Kyra and Martin. “Stay out of sight.”
Kyra retreated into a corner, relieved to escape the homicidal horse. Martin leaned against the wall. She picked straw off the floor and broke each strand into pieces, making no attempt at conversation.
“You were really part of the Assassins Guild?”
Kyra looked up to see Martin looking at her with friendly curiosity.
“I was,” she said, slightly taken aback.
Martin grinned. “I’m relieved to find you normal looking. With all the stories flying around, I was half expecting you to be ten feet tall and have three arms.”
His smile was infectious, and Kyra found herself reluctantly smiling back. “It’d be hard to climb if I was ten feet tall.”
Martin shifted his weight, and Kyra noticed the crimson F embroidered on his tunic.
“You’re a Red Shield,” she said. For some reason she’d assumed he was a stable hand. She tried to suppress her automatic disgust at that emblem.
Martin blinked at the change in her tone. “Aye,” he said cautiously. “And my da and brothers as well.” When she didn’t respond, he continued talking. “It in’t a bad life. The coin is decent. I’m lucky, since I’m a dog talker. There’s enough commanders who want dogs, so we get to choose.”
“You picked Tristam?”
“Sir Malikel, actually. But Sir Tristam is a good sort too. Sir Malikel attracts a friendlier type.”
Kyra supposed that Tristam wasn’t cruel, but she wouldn’t exactly have categorized him as friendly.
They were interrupted by Tristam’s voice outside. The two of them came out to see Lady hitched to a horse-drawn cart—the kind used by servants to carry firewood.
“You can’t be serious,” she said.
“It’s this or get your brains kicked out. Trust me, Lady is just as unhappy about this as you are.”
He did have a point. Kyra climbed in, and an amused Martin threw a cloth over her.
“Stay out of sight until we reach the forest,” said Tristam.
Then they were off. Through the slats of the cart, Kyra caught glimpses of a neighborhood she didn’t recognize. Perhaps Tristam thought familiar surroundings would prove too tempting. Nonetheless, even seeing an unfamiliar part of the city was comforting after her days in the compound. Out at night, with the moon reflecting off the rooftops, and the wind blowing over her head, she could almost pretend she was on another job. The clatter of Lady’s hooves rang louder across the cobblestones than they would have during the day. A few times, Kyra glimpsed others on the streets, but no one stopped them.
But her comfort gradually disappeared as they traveled farther. The buildings thinned out, separated first by farmland and then forest. By the time the sun came up, the smell of bark and leaves had replaced that of manure and livestock, and she saw nothing through the slats but trees. Finally, the wagon rolled to a stop and Tristam pulled back the cloth. Kyra sat up to see that they were deep in the forest, by a small wooden guardhouse.
“We’ll leave the horse and cart here.” He put his hand to her waist as she stood, and Kyra jerked away from him. Tristam stepped back. “Force of habit,” he said irritably. Was he blushing? “I suppose you don’t need my help to get off the—”
“No.” Kyra jumped off and ran past him toward the guardhouse. Though she couldn’t help wondering…what would it be like to be treated like a lady? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tristam leading his horse inside. The serving girls at The Drunken Dog would have killed to be escorted around the forest by a young knight. But then, all they knew about knights were from Brendel’s ballads. She wondered if they’d still want to be carried in a handsome knight’s arms if the deal included an assassin and a poisoned dagger.
After Lady was comfortably stabled, they continued by foot. This was an old forest, with large, thick-trunked trees that grew as high as Kyra could see, and as they continued, Kyra began to feel more and more uneasy. The sunbeams shifting through the leaves and the wind’s faint rustle seemed to hide some unknown danger. It didn’t make sense. There were certainly just as many dangers in the city, but Kyra couldn’t shake her agitation.
“Do you know anything about tracking?” Tristam asked.
“Why would I know anything about tracking?” Kyra asked, teeth clenched as she dodged another branch.
Tristam turned to face her. “Look, Kyra. I know you’re not happy with me. But it’s going to be an unpleasant trip for both of us if we’re at each other’s th
roats the entire time.”
She faltered at his rebuke. “I’ve never been out in the woods before.”
“Never?” Tristam’s surprise showed in his voice. “I spent my entire childhood in woodland just like this. My family’s manor is out in the forest.”
“I can tell.”
“Tell what?”
“That you’re comfortable here.” She couldn’t put it into words, but he moved differently. Even in the past hour, the tenseness had left his muscles—a tenseness that she hadn’t noticed until it was gone. He stood taller, though he’d already been head and shoulders above her. He was more self-assured, and it seemed as if a weight had lifted off him.
Tristam gave a quiet smile. “You should come out here in the fall. The leaves are beautiful when they turn.”
Kyra didn’t respond. A faint impression was forming in the back of her mind, of walking through a similar forest. Or rather, of being carried, the way Flick carried Lettie. There was something threatening about the memory, and she shook her head to clear it.
They continued in silence as Tristam looked for signs of the Demon Riders, occasionally examining a snapped branch or kneeling to look at footprints.
“The last time I saw the Demon Riders,” said Tristam, “it was at night—I think they may travel after dark. I see some fresh tracks, so we can stay here overnight if we can find cover.”
The forest was mainly devoid of underbrush, but they found a patch of bushes where a tree had fallen. Tristam showed Kyra the types of leafy flexible branches they needed to make a shelter, and they spread out to gather materials. Moving around the forest was different from walking in the city. It was almost impossible to take a step without landing on a dry leaf or crackling twig. Kyra scowled at the noise and made a game of stepping softly. After a while, she started to get the hang of it—a trick in the way she placed her foot and shifted her weight.
After some hours of work, they had an impressive shelter. Bushes made up three walls, and Tristam had woven branches in the gaps. Beneath the cover of night, it would be easy to miss.
“Did they teach you this in knight training?” Kyra asked.
“No, I used to do this as a boy, before I became a page.” Tristam stepped back to examine his handiwork and gave a satisfied nod.
Midnight Thief Page 17
