The Traitor's Kiss

by Erin Beaty

  Looking back at Carter, it struck her that the sword hung to be drawn by his right hand. He always wrote—rather poorly—with his left.

  “Perhaps it would be best,” she said. “Consider this an apology.” She pulled an apple from her pocket and tossed it up to him, aiming slightly to his left in a small test.

  He held reins in both hands, but he dropped them into his left and caught the apple with his right. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Odd, that.

  Sage walked around the wagon and waited her turn to climb in. With the rain, none of the ladies wanted to be close to the open back, so she took a seat nearest the rear gate, across from Clare.

  Once the caravan started moving, Sage felt her suspicions that the soldiers expected something were on target. They started at noises and constantly scanned the trees along the side of the road. After about an hour of travel, a dog bolted off into the forest, and the caravan drew to an abrupt halt. The hound vanished into the brush, and every man stopped and waited.

  Sage leaned outside to look. Carter stood on his bench seat, crossbow in the crook of his right arm. It might mean nothing except he’d learned to use both it and the sword with his right because most everyone else did, but somehow she doubted it. Why pretend to be left-handed with her?

  He stared into the woods like the rest of the soldiers, an intense look of concentration on his face. She surveyed the trees but saw nothing. When she glanced back at Carter, she found him watching her.

  He wasn’t smiling.

  Sage ducked back under the wagon cover. Clare started from her doze and looked questioningly at her, and Sage shrugged back. The other ladies were oblivious, however, and complained at the delay. After several minutes the dog came trotting back like nothing was wrong, and the soldiers relaxed a little. Lieutenant Casseck rode down the line, telling all the men they’d responded well to the drill. Judging from the lingering anxiety on every face, it hadn’t been a drill at all.

  Captain Quinn rode up beside their wagon, and Sage peeked around again to observe him, as he rarely came this close. She’d never seen him do anything resembling actual work, either. He carried himself as proud as royalty; she expected he’d been just as coddled his whole life as the actual prince. After speaking quietly to Carter, Quinn handed him something—a rolled scrap of parchment. Carter opened the note and frowned at it.

  Sage leaned back out of sight, mind racing, hardly noticing the wagons were moving again. Maybe it was a diagram. Or maybe he’d learned enough to read what was written. He’d advanced pretty quickly.

  Or maybe he already knew how to read.

  It was silly to assume he could read based on a few seconds’ glance, but in combination with the signs he was right-handed, it left a bad taste in her mouth. Why lie about such things? What did it gain, other than time with her?

  No threats materialized over the rest of the morning, and the light rain kept them from stopping to rest and stretch as usual. They arrived at Underwood an hour past noon, well ahead of schedule, and the riders’ faces showed their relief. The high walls of the crossroad fortress offered security from whatever was out there. Underwood marked the border between Crescera and Tasmet, but Tasmet had been part of Demora for over a generation now. Surely they didn’t feel threatened.

  Sage wanted to ask Lieutenant Casseck about the soldiers’ alertness and reaction—and perhaps slip in a sly remark about Ash Carter’s reading progress—but before she could get his attention, he and the other officers disappeared. She pushed between a line of soldiers carrying trunks and weapons to the barracks. They all made way for her, but she couldn’t see Casseck’s blond head over theirs. Even Carter had vanished, leaving their page to tend to the horses from his wagon. The boy looked too small for such a job, but he handled it with competence.

  She considered him for moment. A page’s job was to attend to officers’ needs, so he would know them well. She changed directions to bump into him as he led the horses away. “Hello, young fellow,” she said. “Have you been with us all this time?”

  He stopped walking and bowed. “Yes, my lady. Good afternoon, Lady Sagerra.”

  “You know my name, good sir,” she teased, “but I don’t know yours.”

  “Charlie Quinn, my lady.”

  It was almost too good to be true. “Are you related to Captain Quinn?”

  The boy nodded enthusiastically. “He’s my brother.”

  Sage put on an impressed face. “I’ve heard so much about him; you must be proud to be his page.” The boy glowed, and guilt settled in her stomach like a stone. It didn’t sit well with her to manipulate a child, but she was getting a little desperate.

  “I haven’t had lunch, have you?” she asked, and Charlie shook his head. “After you’re done with the horses, would you like to have lunch with me in the garden? I plan on taking my meal out there, as the rain looks to be stopping.”

  “I’d be honored, my lady.”

  Her mouth twisted in what she hoped was a smile. “No, Master Quinn, the honor is mine.”

  21

  THE RELIEF OF arriving at Underwood was short-lived.

  “Two more.” Quinn tossed a message on the table in the barracks meeting room. “Two more of those damn Kimisar squads.” He closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to think.

  “The forward picket hasn’t reported anything new,” Casseck pointed out as he scanned the scrap of paper and passed it on.

  “The forward picket hasn’t reported at all,” snapped Quinn. Damn, he was testy. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “No couriers since Galarick, and no messages waiting for us here.”

  “So send a courier of our own,” said Rob.

  “We could hole up here and signal with red blaze,” suggested Gramwell. Every army unit carried packets of powder that when burned made red smoke, calling all forces within sight to their aid. “The Kimisar could never take this place with seventy men.”

  “Unless there are more Kimisar squads out there,” muttered Rob.

  Gramwell disagreed. “They’d need hundreds to breach these walls. If there were that many, surely we’d know it.”

  “We can’t stay here,” said Quinn. “Underwood is loyal to the duke, and no one is near enough to see the signal. The Kimisar our scouts saw have all been heading east, so maybe they don’t even care about us. If they find out Rob is with us, though, that could change. The general will realize he’s not heard from us and investigate, if he hasn’t already, so right now we should focus on getting word of the gathering army to Tennegol. I think there’s no question that the D’Amirans are planning something, but they’re waiting.”

  The prince frowned. “For what?”

  “What happens during the Concordium?” said Quinn. “Fat, rich noblemen from every corner of Demora leave their lands and go to the capital wearing as much gold as they can carry and escorted by their finest troops. They travel even slower than us, so most left over a month ago; any that had to cross the mountains went north and around through Mondelea.”

  Cass raised his eyebrows. “No one’s home. By the time word reached them in Tennegol, it could all be over and the passes sealed.”

  Quinn nodded. Anything his father sent through the south pass to Tennegol would probably be stopped by Count D’Amiran at Jovan, but if the Cresceran brides didn’t show up at the Concordium, the alarm would be raised early. While the nation was busy trading brides and dowries, the D’Amirans would make their move, flanking the Western Army from behind. Quinn tried not to think how all their friends—his father—could be wiped out. He could tell everyone else realized it, though. For the first time, Quinn was glad Charlie was with them. His brother was safer, if only barely.

  “So what do we do?” asked Gramwell.

  “We pretend nothing’s wrong while gathering as much information as possible. Our scouts will also look for subtle ways to disrupt things. Maybe once the ladies are safely through the pass, we can send a team back to burn some o
f their supplies or something. Ash stays where he is for now, doing what he does best.”

  Rob cleared his throat. “What about Starling?”

  Quinn pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. Its length was getting annoying. “What about her?”

  “Have you realized who she spends her time with, other than Mouse?”

  Quinn gritted his teeth. “Rob, if you know something, you’d better tell us right now.” His cousin had a flair for the dramatic, but lives were at stake.

  “Lady Clare.” Rob looked to every face, but no one seemed to understand why that mattered. “Clare Holloway’s sister is married to Count Rewel D’Amiran, the duke’s brother. I stood in for my father at the wedding two years ago.”

  Quinn looked to Casseck, who raised his eyebrows. The evidence against Starling was circumstantial, but it increased every day. Now they had the possibility of two spies.

  A knock on the door announced a servant with a tray of food. Quinn realized how hungry he was; he’d skipped breakfast with the urgent matters of the morning and had only an apple. The map was swept aside and the meeting paused. He’d inhaled half of his first plate and was pouring more water into his cup when he realized someone was missing from the scene.

  “Where’s Charlie?”

  22

  LIEUTENANT CASSECK CHECKED the kitchens after he walked through the stables but found no sign of Charlie other than the properly tended cart horses. The page reveled in attending the officers, so Casseck worried something had happened to him. He decided to head back to the barracks. If Charlie still hadn’t returned, Quinn would raise hell. They all would.

  A high wall of hedges bordered the garden, and Casseck glanced through a gap as he cut around it and stopped short. There was Charlie, sitting on a bench in the sun, chattering to Lady Sagerra, who listened intently. Charlie’s legs swung back and forth as he animated his speech with several hand gestures, and she laughed when he came to some conclusion. Casseck ducked back behind the hedge, hoping he hadn’t been seen.

  He watched her hand Charlie a bread roll while she took her turn talking. The boy was mesmerized as Sagerra told a story that ended with her pretending to smash her face on something. Charlie cringed.

  She certainly knew how to talk to children.

  Sagerra leaned forward and appeared to ask a question, and Charlie responded eagerly, like he wanted to please her, which made Casseck nervous. But Charlie didn’t know anything dangerous, and he was a smart kid. He wouldn’t give anything away. Not willingly.

  Casseck spun around at the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind him. One of the brides was heading for the garden, though how she walked in those shoes he couldn’t imagine. Her blond hair was elaborately pinned around her freshly painted porcelain face. And she was very well-endowed. Not that Casseck was much for ogling at cleavage, but it caught the eye, especially in the low-cut pink dress she wore. She met his eyes and smiled, and he bowed as she shifted her parasol to offer him her hand. He raised it to his lips. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

  “And you, too, sir,” she said. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced yet.”

  He stood straight. “I’m Lieutenant Casseck, Lady Jacqueline.”

  Her sky-blue eyes widened. “So you know me already? I’m flattered.”

  Quinn had made them memorize the names. This one was easy—she always put herself first. She presented an opportunity to get closer to Sagerra and Charlie, though, so he offered his arm. “Would you care to walk in the garden, my lady?”

  “That would be lovely!” There was a hard gleam in her eyes as she took his arm. Within a few steps she was leaning heavily on him, like she was tired or in pain. Casseck held her up, bending away to avoid the parasol she held over herself with her other hand.

  Jacqueline laughed as they turned the corner, though she didn’t sound amused. “Oh, there she is,” she said, nodding at Sagerra, whose eyes darted toward them, then refocused on Charlie. It was not a friendly look. “We didn’t see her at lunch, but it doesn’t surprise me to find her out here. You’d think with all those freckles, she’d avoid the sun, but I think she’d sleep outside if she could.”

  Jacqueline directed their path away from Sagerra and Charlie, and Casseck reluctantly followed her lead. Though he knew the answer, he asked, “Are you friends with Lady Sagerra, then?”

  “Certainly not. I don’t associate with commoners.” Casseck froze in his tracks, and Jacqueline glanced up. “You didn’t know?” She looked distressed. “Oh dear! I thought surely the matchmaker told you, seeing as you men are protecting us. I can’t believe she wouldn’t have explained.”

  “Lady Jacqueline, are you saying Sagerra’s not a lady?”

  Her lacquered fingernails flashed as she waved her hands before clutching his arm. “You mustn’t tell anyone I told you, sir. I just … thought you knew.”

  “So why is she with you?” The woman obviously wanted to tell him.

  “That is Mistress Rodelle’s business. They didn’t want anyone to know. I’m not even sure what her real name is.” Jacqueline turned pleading eyes up to his and breathed so hard Casseck worried about the strength of her bodice. “I shouldn’t have said anything! Please promise me you won’t tell anyone!”

  “Of course not, my lady.”

  23

  CHARLIE STOOD AT military attention, looking pleased with himself. “Sir, I had lunch with Lady Sagerra. I’d like to report our conversation.”

  Quinn was torn between yelling and laughing at the boy. Casseck struggled to keep a straight face as he leaned on the closed door behind Charlie. Quinn forced himself to focus sternly on his brother. “You didn’t ask permission, though. Lieutenant Casseck had to go searching for you.”

  “You said we needed to know more about her. It was a target of opportunity,” Charlie said gravely.

  Cass started coughing. Quinn leaned back in his chair and covered his mouth with his hand. “Very well. Report.”

  “First, sir, I’d like to assure you we didn’t talk about Mouse. She didn’t even ask about him.”

  Quinn relaxed a little. “What did you learn?”

  Charlie grinned triumphantly. “She was seventeen last month.” Age mattered to him. He launched into a narrative of broken bones and climbing trees and how she tutored her four cousins while she lived with her aunt and uncle at Broadmoor Manor.

  Not much was useful, but it was more than Mouse ever got from her. “What else did you talk about?”

  “Me mostly, sir. She wanted to know about my home and family. We talked about how I came to be a page, my travels with the army, the places I had seen, and how I’m training to earn my commission, like you.”

  Information on me by proxy. Oh, Starling, you are clever. Over Charlie’s head he could see Casseck come to the same conclusion. “Did she ask about any of us?”

  “Just if I was well treated. I said yes, but nothing else so I wouldn’t accidentally say something about Robert or Ash or you.”

  Quinn reviewed the conversation to find what was tickling his mind. “When you told her about your time with the army, what are some of the things you said?”

  Charlie looked thoughtful. “We talked about how big the army is, how fast it can travel, the different kinds of soldiers, how they get supplies.” He shrugged. “Girls don’t know any of that stuff. She thought it was interesting.”

  Quinn’s heart sank. “I’m sure she did.”

  Casseck closed the door behind Charlie after Quinn dismissed him. “He thought he was helping. I doubt he told her anything we wouldn’t consider common knowledge.”

  “She has a way of making you trust her,” said Quinn. He tapped his lip. “But Charlie is a pretty good judge of character. Back home he knew which servant was stealing that one time, and he always knows when someone’s lying to him.”

  Casseck sat down across from him. “Lady Jacqueline’s information actually makes sense now. Starling is Mistress Rodelle’s secretary.”

  �
�But why does she travel as a bride?” Quinn threw up a hand. “And why does she ask so many questions about the army?”

  “You think she’s a spy?”

  “She speaks Kimisar; did you know that?”

  Casseck raised his eyebrows. “It was never in Mouse’s reports.”

  “I speak Kimisar, and so do you. That doesn’t make us traitors.” Quinn ignored the look his friend gave him. “The other night she was reading a book on mining by a Kimisar geologist.”

  “Heavy reading.”

  “But not unusual from what Mouse has seen. Could mean nothing other than she likes rocks.”

  “Alex.”

  The seriousness in his friend’s voice made Quinn finally meet his eyes.

  “We need information beyond what Mouse can learn.”

  Quinn nodded reluctantly.

  He needed to know what was in that ledger.

  24

  AFTER CHAPEL DAY services, Sage and Clare spent most of the second day in Lord Underwood’s library. Her friend devoured the books Sage picked out for her, and Sage alternately read and went over her ledger, adding what she’d gleaned from Charlie. The boy had readily answered every question she’d asked about the army; at the age of nine he knew much more than her. It only emphasized just how much Ash had avoided saying. What was he hiding?

  Since Charlie was the captain’s brother, once she got the page talking, she focused on his background. He spilled more information about his home and family than even she could remember. The Quinns had a distinguished military history, and it seemed the sons were following in their father’s footsteps, the captain achieving his most recent promotion well before his peers. So either Quinn was quite accomplished, or as the general’s son everyone was motivated to make him seem so.

  When she and Clare broke from their reading for the noon meal, Sage paid attention to the escort soldiers she saw. They were still anxious, posting their own guards on the walls and around the ladies’ quarters, which chilled her. Deep in their own country, they acted like they were in hostile territory. Maybe she could maneuver to talk with Lieutenant Casseck tonight and ask him about it.