by A K Fedeau
“98 thousand…”
“I know.” Livia looked away and sighed. “I should’ve known we’d get into something like this with the Beauregards.”
Marcus hesitated, then turned up his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
Livia glowered at him. “I can’t afford it.”
Marcus’ face became even more confused. “You can’t?”
“Delphinia set aside a special allowance for me every year. It’s enough for me to live in luxury, but not buy things like that.” Livia eyed the number on the receipt with contempt. “The Beauregards are the highest of the Carpathian upper class.”
“Well, don’t look at me!” Marcus gestured to the receipt. “My commission wouldn’t cover that.”
A pair of prefects ran past them and shouted, is he that way? Over there!
“Livia - listen. We can’t let this make it to the defense fund.” Marcus hushed, reached out, and grabbed Livia by her upper arms. “It’ll go straight to the Severin occupation. The troops will never see a coin of that. Not in food, or warmer clothes, or…”
“All right!” Livia raised her voice. “I understand.”
A silence fell between them, and a few passersby gave them peculiar looks.
Marcus let his arms drop. “I’m sorry.”
Livia stuffed the receipt in her purse. “It’s fine.”
The march music droned on behind them, and the rhythmic boot steps thinned out.
“Well…” Livia paused, then stood up straight - “I guess we have no choice.”
“No choice?”
Livia started walking. “We’ll have to do this the hard way.”
CHAPTER 11
The next evening descended over the city like a deep blue drape - and as it deepened into black, Hector’s court turned in for the night.
The guards trudged through the grounds as they changed shifts and closed the gates, and dew fell on the flower bushes and the manicured grass. The cooks blew out the kitchen lamps and hung their aprons up, and the footmen took their boots off in their tiny downstairs rooms. And one by one, the lights under the nobles’ doors went dark, and they crawled into bed as the crescent moon rose in their windows.
And Marcus and Livia hunched inside an upstairs storage room, where Livia wriggled into a dove-gray, ankle-length maid’s dress.
“All right.” Livia squirmed into the short sleeves. “They should be asleep by now. Do you have the key?”
Marcus handed her a brass skeleton key. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Livia held it up and peered at it in the dark. “Where did you say you got this?”
“The generals use them for the armory.”
“Do you think it’ll work on the bedrooms?”
Marcus raised his eyebrows. “It’s worth a try.”
Livia shoved the key in the side pocket of her dress, and Marcus leaned toward the door to listen for passersby.
“If all else fails, you can pick it,” he said.
“I hope it doesn’t come to that.” Livia fastened the brooches on her silver-trimmed neckline. “I don’t know whether they’re light sleepers, and I don’t want to find out.”
“Is that where the dress comes in?”
“I’m the same size as Isidora’s handmaid.” Livia pinned the apron to her chest. “I don’t look anything like her, but in the dark, I’m close enough. If one of them wakes up, it’ll buy me a little confusion and time.”
“How are you getting out?”
“The way I came.” Livia turned around. “Fasten me up.”
Marcus groped for the clasps at the back of her dress, then closed them one by one.
“I shouldn’t be long. Once I’m out, I have to make it to the service stairs.” Livia stepped into the black peep-toe sandals - left, then right. “As soon as it’s safe, I’ll change, and run it out to the drop point.”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“The docks. Hamid’s taking a shipment there tonight.”
“That’s awfully far. Should I go with you?”
“No. It looks suspicious if we’re both gone.”
“No.” Marcus finished the clasps, then straightened her neckline. “No, you’re right.”
“Besides, even with me there, they’d never trust someone like you.”
Livia and Marcus froze as a pair of courtiers scurried by, and once their footsteps faded, Livia pushed open the door.
“Now.” Livia beckoned for Marcus to follow her out. “Stand by the pillar near their room. If anyone comes, give the signal.”
“The same whistle?”
“Same one. Give it twice when the coast is clear.”
Marcus grabbed Livia’s sleeve. “Wait.”
Livia stumbled to a halt. “What?”
Marcus pointed to a pillar across the hall. “I’m going to stand over there.”
“Why?”
“If I wait on the other side, I can see three entryways. The stairs, and the halls in either direction.” Marcus gestured back and forth between his eyes. “If I stay close to their doorway, I can only see the stairs. We’d better have all three fronts covered.”
“That’s the general I know.” Livia gave Marcus an encouraging pat on the back. “Now, I’m going in.”
Marcus held her arm. “When should I expect you back?”
“Give me an hour or two.”
“All right.” Marcus took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good luck.”
•••
Livia slid the skeleton key into the Beauregards’ door, and when the handle clicked, she twisted it open and slipped inside.
She waited for a moment - two - and didn’t hear a sound - so she stepped out of her sandals and nudged them out of her way. When the Beauregards still didn’t stir, she crept across the room, and found their curtain open, but the canopy on their bed drawn.
Then suddenly, the mattress creaked, and Livia froze in the shadows - but the room went still again, except for a muffled snore.
Phew. Livia let herself breathe. All right. Keep going. Don’t waste time.
Livia blinked until her eyes adjusted to the dark, and tiptoed step by step to Isidora’s dressing table. She searched among the pots and perfume bottles for a key, and when she saw none, she eased the middle drawer - inch - by inch - along its track.
And she found a set of makeup brushes, but no jewelry box.
She fumbled in the back of the drawer and felt a stack of handkerchiefs. Damn. She pulled her hand out, shut the drawer, and opened the ones below. Gloves. No. Decorative soaps. No. Eyebrow scissors and tweezers. No. She snuck over to the chest of drawers, knelt down, and tried again - petticoats, short stays, Mira’s blood, where does this woman keep her jewels? - until she pushed a slip aside and found a jewelry case.
Livia plucked the case out and pried open the gold latch, and lifted the round, velvet top with her fingertips. And sure enough, there it sat, gleaming in the dim moonlight - the Falling Star, on white satin embroidered with a horse’s head.
Livia closed the case and lifted it, but stopped herself. Wait. She put it back. Better leave the case. It’ll take her longer to realize it’s gone. She dragged the necklace off its pillow and dropped it in the pocket of her dress - sorry, Sibyl, she thought - and covered the case with the slip again.
But just as she scooted back and prepared to close the drawer, one of the Beauregards rolled over, and Isidora groaned.
Livia perched on the balls of her feet in case she had to run, and when the sheets and canopy rustled, she bolted off the floor. She held her pocket so the jewels wouldn’t clatter, snatched her sandals, and took off - and dashed through the door, shut it, and locked it with a shaking hand.
•••
Down at the docks, a tall ship swayed against its mooring post, and dim lamps shone on the deck as the fish smell wafted through the night.
The wooden planks swarmed with figures with crescent moons on their belts, and men climbed up and down the rigging to
tie the tattered sails. Workers in black cloaks painted over the Severin crests on the crates, and pried out shoes and swords and furs and rolled them into sacks. And Hamid stood by the gangplank, talking to a captain with a thick, dark beard, stopping only to nod to the workers or check a manifest.
“When can I expect the dry goods?” He asked.
“Give me three weeks,” the captain said. “I have to take the long way. I don’t want the troop ships to see us.”
“What about the east Jormund route?”
“I’m not risking my ass for grain…”
“These people are starving,” Hamid pressed him. “They need that contraband.”
But before the captain could answer, a whistle echoed through the dark, a familiar down-up-down from behind the dockmaster’s office steps.
Hamid held his palm up. “Excuse me.”
The captain nodded. “All right.”
Hamid walked toward the office, nudging workers and sailors aside - and as he ventured out of sight, he gripped the dagger on his belt.
“Who’s there?”
Livia emerged from the shadows, with her red cloak thrown over the maid’s dress. “It’s me.”
Hamid let go of the dagger. “Livia!”
“Could we talk? In private?”
“Of course.” Hamid draped his arm over her. “What are you doing here?”
“I need you to help me move something.”
“Like what?”
“Something delicate.”
“How delicate?”
“Extremely.”
“What are we talking?”
Livia pulled the necklace out.
“Mira’s blood!” Hamid gaped. “Put that away.”
Livia stuffed it back in her cloak.
“Are you still in contact with anyone from the Beauregard job?” She asked.
“Why?”
“I need someone to smuggle it to the palace in Carpathia.” Livia turned her head out of the light and lowered her voice. “I don’t care how you get it there, but I need it done clean and fast.”
“How did you get your hands on it?”
“It’s a long story. I don’t have time.”
“My apprentice just showed up with the Falling Star.” Hamid scowled. “I’m making time.”
Livia glared into Hamid’s brown eyes, and Hamid glared back at her - until Livia finally broke and let out a frustrated sigh.
“Fine.” Livia gestured for Hamid to walk with her. “After you hit their house, the Beauregards left Carpathia. They’d been criticizing Sibyl. They needed to get out for a while.” She paced along the side of the building, past piles of net and rope. “So they came here and started dangling wealth in front of Hector’s nose. He keeps them safe and comfortable. They keep him out of debt.”
“The Beauregards?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“How in Mira’s name did they pull off a theft like that?”
“I don’t know. They probably hired someone.” Livia shrugged. “The point is, they were going to fence it and give the coin to the defense fund.”
Hamid’s frown grew deeper and deeper as he listened to her.
“My guess is that Isidora wanted a contingency plan. Something big in case Hector got desperate, or their deal hit shaky ground.” Livia pulled the necklace out of her cloak pocket again. “If you get this back to Sibyl, you’ll cut Hector’s line of support. With no support…”
“He can’t run the province.”
Livia paused to breathe. “That’s right.”
Hamid studied the necklace with an inscrutable look on his face.
“Let me ask you something.”
Livia hesitated. “All right.”
“Pontifex Florian. Was that you?”
“It was.”
“I thought I recognized your handiwork.”
“Listen, I’m not the only one who stands to benefit here.” Livia pointed to herself, then out to the docked ship. “You could do more jobs. Hire more agents. Get some of the old streets back.”
Hamid reached up and rubbed his chin, and still didn’t respond.
“Hamid?”
“All right.” Hamid took the necklace. “I’ll handle this for you.”
Livia exhaled with relief. “I knew I could depend on you.”
“But after it’s delivered, I can’t help you anymore.”
Livia froze - and when his words sank in, her stomach hit the ground.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I…” Livia stammered - “I don’t understand.”
“If you need anything else, come find me.” Hamid slipped the necklace into his cloak. “But on this job, I can’t help you any further.”
Livia cringed. “Why?”
“I don’t know what you found out about Artemisia. But I know what you’re doing.” Hamid circled her like a hawk. “If this fails, you’ll be at the mercy of one of the most powerful men alive. Nowhere you run will be safe. He won’t rest until he hunts you down.”
“Don’t you have any faith in me?”
“Of course I do!” Hamid spat. “I’m saying you could do everything right, and it could still go wrong.”
Livia bowed her head and bit her lip as she mulled it over.
“And if it does, I could give you all the safehouses in the world. It wouldn’t matter.” Hamid held her shoulders. “I couldn’t save you from that.”
One of Hamid’s lieutenants approached him in the distance, and shouted something unclear at him before she ran back to the ship.
“There’s a tracker at the Pig and Apple Inn now.” Hamid turned away. “I’ll take the necklace. I’ll reach out to him.”
Livia muttered, “Thank you.”
“In the meantime, I wish you good fortune.” Hamid glanced back at her. “I hope to the gods that you succeed. For your sake - and for mine.”
•••
Several mornings later, Livia sat up in bed, and when she opened the canopy, she saw a letter on her dressing chair.
She frowned, reached up and patted down her duckling-fluff hair, and crawled out from under the covers and crept across the floor. She took the letter, turned it over, and studied the green horse seal - then checked her door to make sure it was locked, sat down, and opened it up.
To X,
I have no idea who you are or what your place is in Histria, but I have been told that this letter will reach you through clandestine hands. Therefore, I extend my eternal gratitude for the return of the Falling Star. The principal diamond was a gift from Juba, so I suspect King Adewale will be relieved as well.
I am not at all surprised to learn who was responsible for the theft. They will be handled with swift and extreme prejudice. I should very much like to put this to rest.
I have also received word of the deposition of Pontifex Florian. If you are responsible for both, I suspect I know what you have planned. All I will say is that there is a reason Carpathia has not joined the war. The world has been watching Histria. We have made up our minds about who sits at its head.
If that head interprets my handling of the Beauregards as hostile, so be it. I am not afraid of him. I feel the winds of change on his throne.
Her Royal Majesty, Queen Sibyl Rochefort Cavendish
Livia read the last line again, then opened her dresser drawer, and fumbled under the pile of writing utensils for a small brass key. She unlocked the drawer on the far left, stuffed the letter in, and pushed it shut - and as soon as she locked the drawer again, she heard a scream outside.
•••
“Don’t touch me!”
“You? What about me?”
“Don’t touch my wife!”
“Let me go!”
Livia rushed out to the hallway that looked over the courtyard, with her dressing gown thrown over her bare feet and petticoat. Three armored men in green tabards dragged the Beauregards through the garden path, kicking, wrestling, and shrieking every step
of the way.
“Hector is going to hear about this,” Oscar spat. “You have no right!”
“We have sanctuary!” Isidora yelled.
Oscar clawed at one of the guards’ eyes.
“He’s getting loose,” the guard said. “Help me!”
The other smacked the back of Oscar’s head.
Isidora gnashed her teeth and kicked up clods of grass, and her guard pinned her arms as she tried to shove him into a rosebush. Courtiers stepped in from every direction and peeked over the rails on every floor, and Marcus crept up to Livia’s side, his hair still wet from his bath.
“Livia?” He murmured. “What’s going on?”
Livia raised her finger. “Shh…”
“Which one of you did it?!” Isidora cried.
Livia’s blood froze in her veins.
“It was one of you. I know you did it!” Isidora wailed to the rooftops. “Who told her, which one of you took it?!”
The courtiers gave each other nervous looks.
“It was someone! It had to be someone!”
Isidora’s voice echoed down the hall - and as Livia stared in horror, she clapped her hand to Marcus’ mouth.
•••
That night, Livia awoke and found herself alone in bed, with Marcus’ side of the sheets thrown back and his pillow on the floor.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes, then heaved herself up and out of bed, and grabbed the gauzy white dressing gown lying on her chair. She stuck her arms through the short, draped sleeves and tied it under her chest, then slipped through her door, closed it, and started barefoot down the hall.
Livia crept on the balls of her feet to muffle her footsteps, and she peeked back and forth before she stepped through the bathroom doorway. And sure enough, she found Marcus hunched over the stagnant pool, splashing water on his face and taking shallow breaths.
“Marcus?” Livia took a step closer. “Marcus, what’s going on?”
Marcus ran his hand over his cheek, but he didn’t respond.
“Marcus.” Livia knelt beside him on the mosaic floor. “Please.”
“Go away,” Marcus mumbled. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Oh, come on.” Livia sat and folded her legs under herself. “Look at me.”
Marcus finally put his wet hand down and looked at her with groggy eyes.
