Her hands were starting to regain some warmth. “I’m surprised you’d want to learn about the humans.”
“I’ve no interest in being human. But it would be useful to know how to move in their world. With your mixed blood, you’re able to blend in anywhere.”
Kyra remembered that Pashla had been the liaison between James and the Makvani, back when the clan had been allied with the Guild. It made sense that Pashla would value advantages like this. Though Kyra didn’t exactly see herself as being able to blend in anywhere. On the contrary, half the Palace thought her a criminal, the Demon Riders didn’t want her in the forest, and even the gutter rats didn’t trust her anymore. It was a fine line, she thought, between being able to blend in everywhere and nowhere.
Kyra left the forest a short while later. And though she had failed in her mission, Kyra felt hopeful. She’d spoken to Pashla again, and the clanswoman had forgiven her. Perhaps it was selfish of her to be relieved when the city was still under threat, but Kyra couldn’t help feeling that a weight had come off her shoulders.
There remained plenty of energy in the city when she returned. Kyra skirted past the busy streets and squares toward home, avoiding the crowds that still loitered in the public spaces. Lettie was not home yet—Tristam had taken her to see Idalee that morning—but Flick sat waiting at their table. Kyra hadn’t bothered to give him an extra key; he just picked the lock when he so desired. But it was rare to see him waiting at their place when no one was there.
“Flick,” said Kyra. “You’re here early.”
He wasn’t smiling as he tossed a sheet of parchment on the table. Kyra slid it closer and picked it up. Her stomach dropped.
“A notice of conscription already?” she asked.
“Looks like I’m a lucky member of the early units,” said Flick.
Kyra took the parchment and turned it over, as if she could find something in the back that would mark it false. Her stomach churned. Suddenly, her inability to speak to Leyus today seemed a much graver failure. “Of all the folk in the city, what are the chances they would pick you?”
Flick’s voice was humorless when he responded. “That’s what I wondered myself. I don’t suppose you’ve offended anyone in the Palace recently?”
Kyra was tempted to crumple the parchment in her hands. “I can’t believe Willem would do this.”
“You’ve got enemies in high places, Kyra.”
Kyra had seen soldiers die at the hands of the Makvani before. The thought of Flick—jovial, charming Flick—facing off with the barbarians was unbearable. Kyra racked her mind for any way to change this. “Your father. Can he do anything?”
“He wouldn’t even acknowledge my dying ma’s existence, much less mine. He won’t do anything on my behalf.”
“I’m so sorry, Flick,” Kyra said. She meant every word. “I’ll speak with Malikel as soon as I can.”
It was becoming an all-too-familiar routine, sitting in Malikel’s study and filtering through the truth for what she could reveal. Kyra wasn’t a natural liar. Flick could spin fifteen different tales to twenty different people and keep the details straight, all the while maintaining a face that convinced the most skeptical of listeners that he was the soul of earnestness. It was different for Kyra. She found it hard to keep track of the lies as they piled on top of each other. Plus Malikel wasn’t exactly the best audience for someone engaging in selective truth-telling. The Defense Minister listened carefully—very carefully—to anyone who spoke to him, from fellow Councilmen to lowly serving maids.
“Pashla found me after I was in the forest awhile,” she said. “She wouldn’t let me speak to Leyus, but I did learn that a new clan’s crossed the mountains and that the leaders of the clan are very close with Leyus.”
Malikel leaned forward. “A new clan? Did you get any sense of their numbers?”
“I saw only the two leaders.”
“Judging from the uptick in attacks though, we can assume they are numerous. Did you speak with Pashla about anything else?”
“No,” she lied. Then Kyra gathered her courage. “Sir, there was one other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I understand that a few early units have been conscripted already for Willem’s forest sweep.”
Malikel indicated his desk. It was covered with maps and diagrams of Forge and its surrounding forest, some with symbols representing soldiers in battle formations. “I will be training the new units myself. Hopefully, these early groups will give us a better overall strategy when we bring in the rest of the new conscripts.”
“Were the new units chosen at random?” Kyra asked.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Flick, my good friend, was conscripted yesterday.”
Malikel had reached out to take hold of a map, but upon hearing Kyra’s words, he drew his hand back again and fixed a keen gaze on Kyra. “And you suspect that it wasn’t an accident.”
“Aye, sir.”
Malikel folded his hands in front of him. He didn’t speak for a while, and his face darkened with every passing moment of silence. Just when Kyra was wondering if he’d ever speak again, he did. “I’ll be honest. There are many ways an official could influence who was chosen. And many ways an official could then cover his tracks.”
“Is there anything that can be done? I’m not asking for special treatment for Flick,” she hurriedly added. “It’s just that, if someone had picked him on purpose to get at me…”
“Willem, you mean,” said Malikel. “We can speak plainly in this study.”
“After what happened with the Agan brothers, he warned me not to overstep my bounds. He might be sending me a warning.”
The Defense Minister raised his hand. “Or it could be chance—I’m not saying it is, but you don’t have any proof. If it was indeed Willem, it was a clever move on his part. I’ve built my entire career on fighting corruption. If I were to specially excuse one of the conscripted soldiers, it would undermine my entire position.” He raised a hand again before Kyra could object. “That’s not to say I cannot help you at all. But I would need proof that Willem had something to do with Faxon’s original conscription.” Malikel used Flick’s real name, which he had learned when the Palace had sheltered him from the Assassins Guild.
“Proof?” Kyra echoed. How could she get proof?
“I’ll have some of my men investigate,” said Malikel. “And you would do well to avoid attracting any more of Willem’s attention in the meantime. I know you might be tempted to take this matter into your own hands, but any misstep on your part could make things worse for your friend.”
“Yes, sir,” she said. She wasn’t sure if Malikel really believed she’d sit back while Flick’s life was at risk, but she saw no use in arguing.
It took her a moment to realize that Malikel was looking intently at her. “Kyra,” he said, and there was something in his voice that demanded attention.
Kyra snapped to attention. Had her previous response been too flippant?
“There are several skills that a good Defense Minister needs on a regular basis. One is an ability to judge the truth and see through anything that obfuscates it. When facts have been kept from me, it’s almost always better if the one who’s been hiding these things reveals them first.” Kyra had the distinct impression that they were no longer talking about Flick. “I’m charged with upholding the law, but I also don’t consider the law a rigid thing. Character comes into account, as do the specific circumstances. We can’t always control our past.”
“I don’t understand, sir.” Who knew what the expression on her face was right now?
“I cannot have someone under me who only entrusts me with partial information. I understand it is hard to throw your fate in with the Palace when there are so many people, like Willem, who may not look on you as their equal. But those people will always exist. In the end, you must make a decision. Either you decide that you can accomplish something for this city and you commit fully to the job. Or you leave.”
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“Leave the Palace?”
“Leave the city,” Malikel said.
Her mouth had gone completely dry. He knew about her bloodlines, or at least suspected. Kyra licked her lips in a failed attempt to get some moisture on them. “Can I ask a question, sir?” she said.
“You may.”
“Why don’t you return to Minadel? You could be respected there, live a normal life without folk looking at you sideways because you’re a foreigner.”
Another man might have thought her question a deflection, but Malikel seemed to take it in stride.
“I was a common mercenary in Minadel. I would have amounted to nothing there. It was here in Forge where fate smiled on me. That was why I stayed at first, though you are correct that if I were to leave now, the Minadan court would welcome my expertise and experience.” He turned to look at a map on the wall, his gaze lingering on his old homeland. “But I have unfinished work in Forge. There are times when I want to wring the necks of my colleagues at the Council, but minds are slowly changing.”
“If I may speak plainly, sir, hundreds of folk might lose their lives in the forest before minds in the Palace are finished changing.”
“If one wants to live under the rule of law, one must accept both the good and the bad. I don’t pretend to have perfect solutions, but think on what I’ve said. About everything.” Malikel turned his attention back to the parchment on his desk. “You may go.”
It took a moment for Kyra to realize that she’d been dismissed. She managed a stately walk down the rest of the corridor, but once she got to the staircase, her nerves won out and she bolted down.
Outside, the Palace staff went about their business as usual. A contingent of Red Shields marched past on their way to replace the gate guards. A nobleman strolled behind them, dictating thoughts to a courtier who scribbled them down on a slate. Kyra slowed and pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. Maybe she should tell Malikel the truth of what she was. He was a fair man, and she trusted him to look beyond her bloodlines to what she’d done for Forge. But the thing was, her actions hadn’t exactly been impeccable. Would they be enough to deem her not a threat? And even if Malikel himself decided he trusted her, the Council was something different altogether. There was no way they would be able to look past what she was.
It was with immense relief that Kyra spotted Tristam crossing the courtyard. She ran to him, desperately needing to talk this over. Kyra started to say his name, but the expression on his face gave her pause. Tristam stopped in his tracks, and Kyra would have sworn that he looked guilty. Belatedly, Kyra noticed the strange path he took. He hadn’t been heading to the building that housed Malikel’s study. Instead, he’d been walking toward one of the smaller administrative structures. And he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, he was once again in full court finery.
“I’ve not seen much of you these few days,” Kyra said. “Have you been busy?”
He paused for just a moment, looking very tired. “I’ve been performing some duties for my father.”
“Oh,” Kyra said. “Everything is all right, I hope?”
“They’re fine. I mean—” He wasn’t exactly avoiding her eyes, but he wasn’t looking straight at her either. “They’re not fine, but that’s to be expected. We’ve been having some troubles at our manor with Demon Riders. My father asked me to spend some time here negotiating on the family’s behalf.”
Tristam rarely mentioned his duties to his family. As far as Kyra knew, his older brothers bore the majority of the responsibility. “Do the negotiations have something to do with the Demon Rider attacks?”
“There’s a family from Parna offering to help us with our defenses.” He rubbed his temples. “How have you been? How is Idalee?”
“Idalee’s doing much better. Ilona says she might be able to come home in a few…” Kyra trailed off. Tristam’s thoughts were clearly elsewhere. “Tristam?”
“I’m sorry, Kyra. I’m a bit distracted.” He paused again. “I should go. There’s a courtier expecting me.”
He continued on his way before Kyra finished saying good-bye.
E I G H T
“How much do you hate me, James?” Kyra stood at the opposite side of his cell, shifting her weight from one foot to the other when she tired. She had no desire to lean against the damp moldy walls.
James looked slightly better this time. None of his wounds looked fresh. Perhaps everyone was too busy dealing with the Demon Rider threat to spend much time on him. “Were I free right now, I would slit your throat, though I’d regret having to do so.”
“That’s sentimental of you.”
“You let your talents go to waste. I’ve always thought that, even before I found out what you really are.”
She shifted uncomfortably. Insults and threats, she was prepared for. Praise, though, felt wrong. “There’s to be a war,” she said. “Willem wants to launch an all-out attack against the Demon Riders, and he’s conscripting soldiers from the city to do it.”
“Why tell me this?”
“It will be a bloodbath. Hundreds will die, most of them from the poor. And meanwhile, Willem will be marked a hero.” More people will die than perished in James’s Demon Rider raids. That thought disturbed her in more ways than one.
A guard’s footsteps came through the door of the cell. James looked on in amusement as Kyra froze, then relaxed as the guard walked away. “There’s more,” he said. “You’d not come to me again simply out of concern for your city. They’ve conscripted someone important to you, haven’t they?”
She didn’t answer, but Kyra guessed that her thoughts were plain on her face. James gave a satisfied nod. “It’s always personal. You can handle the abuse when it happens to others, or at least you don’t care enough to make an extra effort to stop it. But when they take someone you care about, that’s when you’re willing to put yourself on the line.”
It was frightening sometimes how right he could be. First Idalee, then Flick. And each time, Kyra became willing to do just a little bit more. Was this what had happened with James? Kyra thought about Thalia, the mysterious girl whom James had fallen in love with, and who had died at a nobleman’s hand. How much of what James had done was because of her?
“Do you still think about Thalia?” The anonymity of the dungeon made it easier to ask such questions.
For a long moment, he didn’t respond, and Kyra wondered if she’d inadvertently ended the conversation. The only sound in the room was the occasional drip of water somewhere in the darkness.
“Every day,” James finally said. As he spoke, Kyra caught a hint of fatigue in his voice, true exhaustion that for a moment was written all over the lines of his body.
“What would she think of everything you’ve done?”
James lifted his head, his eyes regaining their steely focus. “We’ll never know, will we?”
That answer hung between them, heavy with its implications. There was an entire lost lifetime in those words. Decades in which a woman Kyra had never met might have loved, fought, and grown old. Kyra realized that this was one story she would never know.
Finally James shifted. “I tire of this conversation. Tell me what you came for.”
“You’ve got spies in the Palace,” said Kyra. “I know you do. If I knew more about what Willem was doing, if I could find something against him, I might stop this.”
“If you wanted my help, mayhap you shouldn’t have handed me over to the Palace.”
“We’re not allies, James, but we have a common enemy. I’m offering you another chance to bring Willem down. You said you didn’t give me up to the Palace because you might still get something from me. This could be it. Mayhap I can do something with that information to serve both of us.”
His eyes were shrewd as he considered her offer. “Everything about my spies stays with you. No word of this goes to Malikel or any wallhugger.”
Kyra thought for a moment. “I can do that.”
“
Make no mistake, Kyra. You’ll owe me for this. Someday I’ll call in a favor from you, and I’ll hold you to it.”
Kyra stepped back, widening the space between them. “There are some things I won’t do. You know that.”
“I know your limits,” said James. The way he said it made it sound like a weakness. “I won’t push you to break them. But you’ll be indebted to me. I want your word.”
Dealing with James was never straightforward. He was so quick, so deadly most of the time that it was easy to think violence his only weapon. But you couldn’t discount his subtler skills. He understood people, knew how to assess their strengths and manipulate their motivations. On the surface, he was asking for a promise he couldn’t enforce, but Kyra knew better than to make such a vow lightly. She didn’t know his whole game. She never did, but that was a risk she would take.
“I won’t help you escape,” said Kyra. “But you have my word that I will repay you within the limits of my conscience.”
James scrutinized Kyra, and she stared right back at him. Finally he nodded. “I’ve an informant in Willem’s household. He’s a servant named Orvin, and he’s good at overhearing things. I pay in silver for each useful piece of information. He’s a tall man with dark brown hair that’s thinning at the front. About forty years of age, and he wears a tunic with Willem’s family crest when he’s on the Palace grounds. Go talk to him.”
N I N E
Kyra asked one of Malikel’s servants about a man named Orvin in Willem’s household. The man did, in fact, exist. After a couple of days discreetly watching the pathways leading to Willem’s quarters, Kyra spotted him. When she tailed him home, she saw that he lived on the first floor of a boardinghouse in the merchant district. Kyra counted at least six children when she peeked in the windows.
Now that she had him, the question was when and how to approach him. The Palace was too dangerous, and surprising him in his house seemed too threatening. Kyra watched his door that night and followed him as he left the next morning. Luckily, he didn’t head straight for the Palace but instead went to the markets. That would be as good a place as any. Kyra pulled her cloak over her head and sped up until she fell in step with him. The man was deep in thought, and it took a while for him to notice her. He stopped in his tracks.
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