A lock of hair had fallen across Kyra’s forehead, and Tristam brushed it away, though he faltered at the end, as if realizing the intimacy of his gesture. For a moment, neither of them breathed. Then Kyra stepped toward him, and it was with something like relief that Tristam cupped the nape of her neck and coaxed her even closer. Strangely enough, it reminded Kyra of the time she’d shown up poisoned on his doorstep, when he’d tipped her face to the light. But this time she was lucid enough to be acutely aware of his fingers buried in her hair, the newly familiar scent of his skin. And there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Had it only been a few weeks ago when they’d been enemies? But she trusted him now, after all this.
She closed her eyes. His lips, when they touched hers, were soft. Hesitant at first, but growing more confident as she responded. Kyra melted into him, savoring the way his arms tightened around her waist and losing herself in the feel of him. For the moment, at least, she could forget about what would happen tomorrow.
Suddenly, Tristam went still. Confused, Kyra looked up. He was looking past Kyra, and his expression was guarded. Kyra followed his gaze to the campfire behind her. Czern, in cat form, lay by the fire, and James, still tied to a tree, was looking straight in their direction. Kyra turned back to Tristam. Their arms were still interlaced, and she wished she could retrieve the moment. But it was gone.
Tristam took one last look toward the fire and reluctantly backed away, letting out a shaky breath. “I should go make preparations for tomorrow,” he said. “Try to get some rest.” He touched the backs of his fingers lightly to her cheek, and then disappeared into the forest.
She stayed there a long time, looking in the direction he’d gone and feeling the lingering imprint of his lips. When she started to shiver, Kyra returned to the fire and rubbed warmth back into her limbs. Even facing away from James, she could feel his eyes on her.
“I would have expected better from you,” James said.
Kyra didn’t answer.
“Some women try to pull themselves up by becoming a rich man’s plaything. They soon learn the folly of taking such fickle lovers.”
Kyra thought of Flick’s mother and immediately hated herself for it. But now that the story had been evoked, she couldn’t stop thinking of how the woman had left everything for her noble lover, and lost everything.
“You imagine more than you saw,” she told James.
“I saw clearly. And though you might not believe me, remember my words for later. After you’ve lived in his world, placed your hopes with him, made sacrifices for him. He’ll betray you when he’s done with you. Toss you aside when you no longer amuse him.”
There was a hint of grief to his voice, and for a moment, Kyra was surprised that her betrayal would awaken that strong of an emotion in him. Anger, bitterness, disappointment, perhaps, but not grief. Then she realized the grief wasn’t for her.
“You’re talking about Thalia, aren’t you? Something happened to her, with a nobleman. Rand told me….”
And just like that, James’s expression turned to contempt. “Don’t think to understand what you don’t know. Thalia suffered more at the wallhugger’s hands than you’ll ever fathom, and she sacrificed more than you’ll ever have the nerve to risk. With your abilities, you could have surpassed her, but you don’t have the stomach for it. By the time you learn how things really are, it’ll be too late.”
The night wind tickled the back of her neck, and Kyra wondered about Tristam. Would he use her and toss her aside? There was something about James. Even captive and bound, he could still speak with authority, weave his words into a poisoned web around her if she let him.
But only if she let him.
Kyra stood and looked James in the eye. “I don’t believe that all noblemen are as you say. Mayhap I’m a fool, but that’s a risk I will take.”
She put the campfire between them, and he didn’t bother her the rest of the night.
Tristam didn’t return before Kyra went to sleep, though he was sitting at the campfire the next morning. There were circles under his eyes, and Kyra wondered if he had slept at all. He handed her some dried plums for breakfast. Their fingers touched briefly, and Kyra wanted to ask him where he’d been. Would he really be safe returning to the Palace? What had happened between them last night?
“Will you leave soon?” she asked instead.
“Right after breakfast.”
Under James’s and Czern’s watchful eyes, neither of them said any more.
Finally, Tristam stood and dusted off his tunic. “It’s time. I’ll pass along your message.”
Kyra nodded reluctantly. “Do you think they’ll come?”
“They will. Give them a day, two at most.”
If she were braver, she would have said more, but the words wouldn’t come out. Impulsively, she took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, all the while aware of the others watching. Tristam’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he squeezed back.
“We’ll speak again soon,” he said.
Then he turned for the road.
She followed him at a distance. Two squires tended their steeds at the guardhouse, most likely readying for the morning patrol. They looked up at his approach, and their expressions quickly grew alarmed. The one in back reached for his sword, but then relaxed at something Tristam said. He opened his hands, and the squires searched him for weapons. They were treating him like a criminal. But Tristam looked like he had expected this, and after the squires’ search turned up nothing, he let them lead him toward the city.
Kyra trailed them for a while, mostly to assure herself that he wouldn’t be harmed. Then she returned to the meeting place they had chosen. They’d found a clearing close by, where it was easy to see approaching horses. She found a decent vantage point in a nearby tree and settled down to wait.
Late in the afternoon, she heard hoofbeats, followed soon by glimpses of red livery between the orange leaves. Willem and Malikel rode in front, followed by a small contingent of shieldmen. Kyra wondered if she’d have to flee after all, but then the Councilmen ordered their soldiers to wait on the road. Willem and Malikel entered the clearing alone, as she had requested.
It was hard not to be intimidated by the two Councilmen awaiting her. Even though they wore plain riding cloaks, they carried themselves like men who ran a city. Malikel, though stern, didn’t show any overt signs of hostility. Willem, on the other hand, barely even looked at her, as if she were not even deserving of a straight glance. He was the one she would have to be careful of.
“We’d given you up for dead,” said Malikel.
“Not yet.” She was tempted to ask after Tristam, but it would have made her look weak.
“Well, Kyra,” said Malikel. “You have our attention. What do you have to say?”
“James, the Head of the Assassins Guild, is my prisoner. He’s under guard in a safe place, and I’m willing to turn him over to the Palace.”
Malikel’s eyes widened slightly. “That’s not what I expected to hear. We will take him.”
“I’ll hand him over after the Council announces my pardon.”
There was a pause as her meaning became clear to them. Then Willem gave a disdainful laugh. “This is what happens when prisoners forget their place, Malikel.”
“Malikel already gave me his word that the Council would consider my case if I helped bring James down,” said Kyra. “I just want to be reassured of the Palace’s promise.”
“What happened after you were taken by the Demon Riders?” Malikel countered.
Kyra chose her words carefully. “They held me prisoner, but they released me as a reward for exposing a plan James had against them.”
Malikel was studying her again, and Kyra forced herself to return his gaze. Finally, the councilman looked at Willem, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “It seems that councilmen are not the only ones who can play games. I’ll leave the final decision to you, Willem, since you’re already accus
tomed to making unilateral decisions with this prisoner.” Malikel voice was pointed as he said this, and Kyra saw Willem’s eyes flicker toward Malikel. For the briefest moment, rage flashed across Willem’s face, so quickly that Kyra almost thought she’d imagined it. The councilmen were not friends, she realized. Far from it.
“How will you deliver James to us?” Willem was focused on her again, as if Malikel had not spoken at all.
“The Council will write the conditions of my pardon. After it’s announced in the city square, I’ll lead your men to James.”
“Forge’s laws are not games, Kyra,” said Willem. “You step in dangerous territory.”
Kyra didn’t reply.
“I will grant your request under one condition. We will lift your death sentence. But you will serve the Council for a period of five years. You’ll live within the compound and report to the Minister of Defense.”
This was unexpected. She needed to be out of the compound and safely hidden in the city in case James exposed her.
“No. Absolutely not,” she said.
“Then we have no deal,” said Willem.
There was a tense silence, then Malikel spoke. “This could work in your favor, Kyra. Remember that your home is gone, as is your place in the Assassins Guild. You need to eat, and you need a roof over your head. And if I’m guessing correctly, you’d want a stake in our mission. With James as our prisoner, we could track down the rest of the Guild. Bring justice to the victims of the fire.”
It was shrewd of Malikel to bring up The Drunken Dog. The memory of its loss was still sharp, and even the thought of Bella awakened a fierce desire for revenge. But on the other hand, did she really want to help the Palace consolidate its power? She thought again of the rent collection, of corrupt Red Shields and nobles. Kyra swallowed and hoped she wouldn’t regret what she was about to say.
“I want pay equal to the knights’. I’ll live outside the Palace, and I take no vows. If the job is fair, I’ll carry it out, but I’ll be beholden to no one.”
“You ask too much, girl,” said Willem. He took a step toward her, and Kyra stepped back, hand curling for her knife.
“Stay back. If you don’t like my offer, then find someone else who can do what I do.”
Willem’s eyes flashed, and for a moment Kyra thought he might attack her. She tensed, ready to run, but the councilman slowly and deliberately relaxed his posture, though his gaze was not friendly.
“Very well,” he said. “We will accept your terms.”
Tristam thought he’d been prepared for his arrest and punishment. He’d suspected that the squires at the guardhouse would have orders to bring him in, and that he’d be confined to his quarters upon his return. In the hours he’d spent before turning himself in, wandering the forest as Kyra slept, Tristam had made peace with what was to come.
But it was one thing to know what was coming, and another to march past the knowing glances of his peers at the Palace—men who’d served with him and under his command. There were whispers just out of earshot, though he heard bits and pieces. Disgraced…Disobedient…Promising young knight…All the more shocking…
“I won’t be able to shield you from the consequences of your actions,” was all Malikel had said. And when Tristam revealed that Martin was dead, his commander had just acknowledged it with a sad nod.
Now confined to his room, all Tristam could do was wait. He paced the length of his quarters, futilely wishing that someone would tell him what was happening outside. Guards brought him meals, but they didn’t even look him in the eye, much less tell him news of Kyra. He had plenty of time to think over their last conversation, remembering how she’d felt in his arms—firm muscle over a delicate frame—seeing the trust in her eyes. Things had seemed so simple out in the forest.
On the second day of Tristam’s imprisonment, Councilman Willem arrived unannounced. He came alone and closed the door behind him.
“Sit down,” Willem commanded.
Tristam carefully lowered himself into a chair. The councilman remained standing, staring down at him like a schoolmaster berating a pupil.
“You disobeyed my direct orders to stay out of the forest. And not only that, you led one of your own men in with you.” Willem paused. “Your actions led to your soldier’s death. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”
“No, sir. I will take my punishment.”
“Which the Council is discussing now.” Willem turned to face him. “Truth be told, you should be charged with more, but the traitor Kyra is adamant that you had no part in her scheme.”
Tristam lifted his head despite himself. He was too eager to hear about her, and the flash in Willem’s eyes showed that he’d noted it. “I don’t believe her. Few do, but your mentor has argued strongly that we only charge you for the crimes for which we have proof.” The councilman’s lips curled. “Malikel, despite his foreigner’s ways, still commands some influence in the Council.”
Tristam began to feel a spark of hope.
“We’ve agreed to Kyra’s terms,” said Willem. “Does that please you?”
He didn’t answer.
“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” said Willem.
Tristam stuttered, caught off guard. Again, Willem noted his reaction and gave a knowing nod.
“Mistresses are an unavoidable reality of court life. We’re willing to look the other way, provided you’re discreet. I’ll remind you that disobeying orders and flouting the Council would not be discreet.”
Tristam bristled at the implied insult. “Thank you for the warning, Your Grace, but I assure you that I have no plans for taking on a mistress.”
“I’m glad to hear that. You come from a fine family, Tristam. By all reports, you’re well-bred and well-taught. I trust you will conduct yourself in a manner to preserve your family’s reputation. Some restraint on your part would save both of you a good deal of pain and embarrassment.”
“Your Grace, I—”
“I don’t need your opinion, Tristam. Do you understand me, or not?”
“I understand,” he said.
“I hope, for your sake, that you’re telling the truth. I will see you at your sentencing.”
The terms of Kyra’s pardon were announced the next morning by the Palace herald, along with the rest of the day’s news. Although she didn’t dare be there for the announcement itself, she questioned enough people afterward to satisfy herself that the Palace had kept its side of the bargain.
Later that morning, she met Malikel and his knights at the city gate and led them through the forest to where James was kept. By all appearances, the assassin was bound but unguarded. Only Kyra noticed the amber eyes looking down from an adjacent tree.
“This is him,” she told Malikel.
James was pale and more gaunt than he’d been before, but otherwise didn’t look injured. He said nothing as the Red Shields unbound him. They handled him roughly, and when a soldier struck him for moving too slowly, James held Kyra’s eyes as he took the blow. Only when the soldiers were in formation around him, ready to begin the march back, did he finally speak.
“Have you told them what you are?” he asked. His voice carried clearly through the crisp fall air.
Kyra faced straight ahead, though her heart quickened and she looked out of the corner of her eye for escape routes.
“You didn’t, did you? The Palace will regret this, bringing their enemy into their midst.”
Malikel cast a glance toward Kyra. “What is this?”
She hoped her voice wouldn’t give her away. Flick was better at this sort of thing, but he couldn’t help her now. “I’ve told you, sir. This is what he does. He knows what to say and how to make people do what he wants. When you interrogate him, most of your work will be separating the lies from the truth.”
She sensed Malikel’s eyes on her as they continued walking, and she focused on keeping her face relaxed, her breathing steady. After what seemed an endless stretch, Malikel looked away.
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The laugh, harsh and biting, took everyone by surprise. Kyra turned to see James with his head thrown back as if he had just heard the world’s funniest tale. When he finally stopped, he looked at Kyra with something akin to respect in his eyes.
“Well done, Kyra. Well done.”
E P I L O G U E
The antechamber to the Council Room was one of the Palace’s finest spaces, built with the intention of intimidating visiting dignitaries. The floor was fine gray stone and the walls all black, inlaid with gold leaf. As Kyra awaited her audience in the antechamber, she had to admit that the architecture was accomplishing its purpose. Surrounded by all this luxury while dressed in her own plain tunic, she found it hard not to feel small.
Two Red Shields escorted her. Though Kyra wasn’t bound, she still kept a careful eye on them. Willem had grudgingly allowed her to spend the two weeks before her audience in the city, but he’d insisted that she appear for the audience itself. It was a risk, coming back to the Palace, but she didn’t think the Council was so bold as to break promises it had announced to the masses, and she could only jump at shadows for so long.
The antechamber’s focal point was a pair of massive oak doors leading to the Council Room, and an attendant pulled them open. “The Council is ready to see you.”
She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The Red Shields trailed a step behind her. Kyra had never seen the Council Room before—there had been no need, since no records were kept there, and no important supplies. Facing the door were two semicircular rows of tables, the outer raised above the inner, where the twenty Council members sat. Councilman Willem presided in the center of the outer row. Kyra spotted Malikel in the inner row and once again wondered what the councilman thought of her, and what he made of the accusations James had leveled at her in the forest.
The Red Shields escorted her to a bench and motioned for her to sit. They stood behind her to watch the proceedings.
A herald cleared his throat. “We call Sir Tristam of Brancel to stand before the Council.”
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