The Traitor’s Ruin

by Erin Beaty

  Alex directed the boat to help him. He could get there in time, except—

  A hoarse cry came from the opposite bank, and Alex turned to see Sage struggling with Duke D’Amiran. It was no use, though—her hands were tied, her face bloody and bruised, a knife held to her throat.

  Charlie’s small body lay at her feet, his blood staining the sand.

  * * *

  Alex forced his eyes open and jerked to a sitting position on his cot, gasping. He swung his legs down and put his head between his knees and took several deep breaths, trying not to be sick. It was one of the few times he’d managed to wake up before the dream got worse, but he knew from experience he couldn’t go back to sleep or it would pick up where it left off.

  Sometimes Sage and Charlie were reversed. Sometimes it was Gramwell or Tanner or another of his men fighting on the other side. But the choice was always the same.

  He always chose the same side, yet it never mattered—everyone ended up dead.

  Except him.

  32

  THE SIXTH DISPATCH had left two mornings ago, and Sage was beginning work on the seventh. It was hard to believe she’d been here for that long—and had so little to show for it. Each day that passed made her more antsy. Alex was obviously looking for something with all his patrols, but no one else seemed to know what he was finding, if anything. Without a sense of where to start, Sage had very little to investigate or report to Her Majesty. Most of her writing was to Clare, discussing what she’d learned from studying her copy of the trade agreements. A courier from the capital was expected any day now, and Sage was eager to hear what her friend had concluded in her own examination.

  Also, she felt like she was being watched.

  Not by the soldiers—they knew she was restricted to the camp and so kept an eye on her, but that wasn’t it. She often caught Alex watching her, at least when he was around. He was always busy, working directly with the Norsari in their combat training and leading almost every overnight mission. She often didn’t know when Alex left, but she always knew when he returned because the first thing he did was look for her. He rarely spoke to her, just seemed to want to assure himself that she hadn’t snuck away in his absence. But it wasn’t his eyes she felt, either. She couldn’t explain it.

  Sage pressed the wax seal across the binding string and set the packet aside. The courier would leave at dawn, so she’d wait until late evening to add it to the dispatch. Though the actual reports would be added separately, she still didn’t like giving Alex long to read the safe letters. She’d written a great deal about him this time. Her words were as much to him as to Clare.

  Spirit above, she missed her friend.

  “Mistress Sage,” came a voice from outside her tent. It was Prince Nicholas, sounding annoyed at being an errand boy.

  She went to the opening and stuck her head out. “What is it, Highness?”

  “Captain Quinn requests your presence at the command tent.” The prince turned and sauntered off before Sage could ask why. Someone really needed to tell him he had to learn how to follow orders before he could start giving them.

  Sage took a moment to straighten her long tunic. The green one was her favorite, though the dark brown one hid dirt and stains better. On her belt she always carried her two daggers now; she felt off balance with only one. She stepped outside and made her way to the center of the camp. It was nearing time for the evening meal, and the delicious scent of venison stew met her at every turn.

  Outside the command tent stood a group of soldiers and horses wearing royal livery. Not just messengers, either, from the look of it. Someone important. She quickened her pace and strode inside without asking permission—her presence had been requested, after all.

  It took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the shade of the tent, but she recognized Ambassador Gramwell right away. He smiled broadly. “Here’s who we’ve been waiting for!”

  Sage was confused until he stepped aside to reveal who was with him.

  Clare.

  33

  IT TOOK SEVERAL seconds for Sage to comprehend her friend was truly here, and wearing clothes in a style similar to her own. She’d never seen Clare in anything other than a long dress fit for royalty—even her nightgowns were embellished and trimmed with lace. For a moment Sage felt sick, thinking her friend had cut off her own hair, but it hung in a thick braid down her back, interwoven with ribbons that matched her knee-length red tunic and thick hose.

  Clare jumped forward, looking just as happy as Sage felt to see her. They embraced and began talking over each other with how-have-you-beens and when-did-you-get-heres until someone cleared his throat.

  “If you ladies would excuse us,” Alex said. “We have military matters to discuss.”

  “Of course, Captain.” Clare grabbed Sage’s arm and dragged her out of the tent before she could object. “We have some catching up to do.”

  Once they were outside, Clare asked Sage to take her to the river, and they walked down the slope together. Sage headed for an area near the edge, by the trees, but Clare steered her to a spot in the middle of the bank.

  “There,” her friend said. “No one can sneak up on us while we talk.” She sat on a wide, flat rock and began unlacing her riding boots. “My feet are dying for a soak.”

  Picking a place where they couldn’t be overheard and now exposing her bare legs to over two hundred men? Clare was getting more astonishing by the second. “I never thought to see you in such a short skirt,” said Sage, pointing to the gold embroidered hem lying across Clare’s thigh. “Though yours is much fancier than mine.”

  “Riding in a long skirt every day for three weeks is tiresome,” said Clare. “And we likely have two more weeks to go until Vinova.”

  Sage inhaled sharply. “You’re going all the way to the outpost?”

  “Papa is.” Clare dipped her toes in the frigid mountain water and sighed a little. “I convinced him to take me along.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  Her friend smiled impishly. “By making myself valuable. Mama sent a letter asking me to make sure Papa remembered the details he usually left to her. So I took care of those and many others until I was indispensable.”

  Sage shook her head in awe as she removed her own boots and sat. “And you rode all this way?”

  “Well, not quite,” Clare admitted. “At first I could ride only for a half day at a time, but I was able to sit in a carriage when I got too sore.” She leaned forward to whisper. “As often as not, I even rode astride, rather than sidesaddle.”

  Sage toned down her smile for her friend’s sake. “Good for you.” She put her own feet in the water. “So Vinova, then.”

  “Yes, of course.” Clare sat up straighter. “You were right about everything we suspected before you left. The Norsari are here not only to train, but as a deterrent against the Casmuni coming across the border again and to fight them if necessary. Papa is here to open talks, assuming the Casmuni want to talk, once their invasion is discouraged or defeated.”

  “He told you all this?” Sage asked in surprise.

  Clare shrugged. “Just that we intend to reach out to Casmun, but I’ve been reading his correspondence.” She lifted a dainty white foot out of the water and inspected a blistering spot on her little toe. “I think you’ve had a bad influence on me.” Clare lowered her foot again. “I haven’t seen any of the latest report yet. We passed three couriers on the way—the last one yesterday—and they gave us what was meant for Papa and me. I didn’t keep most of what you sent, just forwarded it to Her Majesty. I figured you could tell me everything yourself.”

  “There’s very little to report,” said Sage with a sigh. “The Norsari constantly go out and come back, but no one has ever seen anything suspicious, even in the times they crossed the river. I think Alex is feeling a lot of pressure to find something. From the looks of it, he doesn’t sleep much.”

  “You haven’t seen anything?”

  “I haven�
�t left the camp since we arrived.”

  Clare’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you only said that in your letters to throw the captain off. Do you mean to tell me you’ve learned nothing on your own? Why did you bother coming?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Sage said. “It’s not that simple. I’d probably sneak out of camp if I had any idea where to go. Besides”—she glanced around—“I don’t think it was the Casmuni.”

  “You said that in your third report, but I’m not sure I understood why.”

  “You’re still working on all the trade agreements, right?” Clare nodded. “Remember the one that talks about caravans crossing the desert?”

  Clare pursed her lips as she searched her memory. “They could only travel in the spring. Otherwise caravans were to go through Vinova.”

  “Exactly,” Sage said. “All the springs dry up. The disturbance that has everyone worked up was in late summer.”

  “Yes, but there’s a difference between a trade caravan and an army, Sage.”

  Sage sat back a little, her confidence fading. “True, but no one has ever seen Casmuni after the summer solstice.”

  “But they have seen them. They’ve been coming to the Kaz River for years now.”

  Sage frowned. “Just the past two.”

  “And if it’s May now, they’re due, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” Sage nodded. “They are.”

  34

  ONCE CLARE AND Sage were gone, Alex invited Ambassador Gramwell to sit while he moved to a chair on the opposite side of the table. “I was expecting you, sir, but Lady Clare was a surprise,” he said.

  “Ambassadors are always married men for good reason.” Lord Gramwell poured himself a cup of water from a pitcher. “Women open doors that would otherwise be shut in our faces. I was already feeling the loss of Lady Gramwell, who is too ill to travel all the way to Vinova, and Clare took care of matters I wouldn’t have even thought of. In the end it made sense to bring her.” The ambassador raised his cup before taking a drink. “Never underestimate the value of having a smart woman by your side, Captain.”

  “I won’t, sir.” Alex had no doubt that was Sage’s influence at work, but she’d looked so happy to see Clare. Maybe he could convince her to travel on to Vinova with her friend.

  “I met your latest dispatch the other day, Captain.” Lord Gramwell set the chalice down and looked at Alex sternly. “It was rather distressing to see you’ve learned nothing after six weeks.”

  Alex tried not to fidget under the ambassador’s gaze; it was nearly as powerful as his own father’s. “Sir, I’ve almost come to the conclusion that there’s nothing to find. Perhaps we were mistaken in our assessment.”

  “Are you willing to stake your career on that?”

  “Not yet,” said Alex, trying to sound calm and confident. “I need a couple more weeks of scouting to be certain.”

  “You have one.”

  One? Alex fought back panic. “You mean with my next dispatch?”

  Lord Gramwell shook his head. “No, Captain. I mean when Colonel Traysden arrives. The courier from Tennegol that caught up to us this morning carried this for you.” He reached into his traveling jacket and pulled out a sealed note. “I have my own, but I imagine it says the same thing.”

  Alex cracked the seal as a cold sweat broke out over him.

  Captain Quinn,

  In light of your findings, or lack thereof, I have turned my full attention to your mission. If your fourth report, which by now has already been sent, does not contain any new information, I will leave for your position within a day, and you may expect my arrival a fortnight after that. If I deem it necessary, I will take command of the Norsari Battalion at that time.

  Respectfully,

  Colonel K. Traysden

  Alex dropped the note and pulled a calendar toward him. If dispatches took ten days to reach Tennegol, the fourth one would’ve arrived seven days ago. One day to prepare and tie up necessary matters, and the Colonel would be five days into the journey south by now. No doubt he’d met the fifth report already, and he’d have the sixth in a few more days. Alex had eight or nine days before the colonel arrived. Ten if he was lucky.

  Ambassador Gramwell watched him calmly. “I feel the need to remind you that Colonel Traysden handles all intelligence reports from the realm, and the issue here, though significant, is only one of his many national concerns. Your lack of progress has monopolized his attention at a dangerous time.”

  Alex felt like he would be sick.

  “I’m on your side, Captain,” said the ambassador. “I hope to the Spirit this is all a mistake and a conflict is not imminent.” He stood and looked down at Alex. “But whatever your assessment of the situation, I suggest you be ready to defend it when Colonel Traysden arrives.”

  35

  CLARE AND THE ambassador left early the next morning. It would take them the whole day to get back to the Jovan Road, where their caravan waited. Sage was saddling her friend’s horse when Lord Gramwell approached. “You’re still welcome to come along, Mistress Sage. I know Clare would love to have you with us.”

  Last night Sage had dined in the command tent with the officers and their guests. Ambassador Gramwell had invited her to travel with them to Vinova as Clare’s companion. She’d politely declined the offer with a side glance at Alex, who she suspected was the source of the idea. Clare slept on a cot in Sage’s tent, and in their late night talking she admitted Lieutenant Gramwell had asked her to persuade Sage to go.

  “I’m afraid I have too much work to do with His Highness,” she told the ambassador. “Her Majesty is depending on me to bring him up to the level he should be at.”

  Prince Nicholas stood behind Lord Gramwell, holding his horse’s lead. He stuck his tongue out at Sage, but she kept a straight face.

  “Very well,” said the ambassador. “Where is my daughter now?”

  “I believe she’s taking care of some last-minute feminine issues, Ambassador,” Sage answered, knowing very well Clare was in her tent, saying good-bye to Luke in private.

  “Say no more, Mistress Sage,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

  A minute later Clare came walking over with Lieutenant Gramwell carrying her bag. Sage helped her friend mount her horse as Luke shook his father’s hand good-bye. “I imagine Alex will send dispatches to both Tennegol and Vinova now,” Sage said quietly. “I’ll send my reports to you, and you can forward them to the queen. It will take longer, but I don’t dare send her anything but progress reports.”

  “Of course,” Clare said, taking the reins and looking quite comfortable sitting astride, despite its unladylike position. “I just hope you have something to actually say next time.”

  Sage scowled. “I did plenty of work translating. More than you.”

  “Well, it’s not as if you have anyone else to write to,” Clare said, then blushed. “I’m sorry, Sage, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know,” Sage said. She didn’t regret coming, and she’d never considered abandoning her mission for the queen, but if she wasn’t here, Alex would be writing to her. Ironically, Sage would be communicating with him more than she did now in camp.

  The ambassador had mounted and was leading the small retinue out of the camp. Clare looked down at Sage one last time. “Bas medari,” she said, using the Casmuni phrase of greeting and farewell.

  “Bas medari,” Sage replied.

  When the party had disappeared up the trail into the trees, Sage turned back, thinking to skip morning training and recover from staying up so late with Clare, sorting out the Casmuni words and phrases, and arguing over which syllables to emphasize in pronunciation. Sage was lifting the flap on her tent when she realized the assembled Norsari didn’t sound like they were exercising. Curious, she headed for the open area they normally gathered on.

  The men were standing at attention as Casseck called out names. When the lieutenant finished, Alex stepped forward. “Those called are excused from du
ties today and will report to the quartermaster for supplies. We leave at midnight.”

  A ripple of surprise went through the ranks. Patrols had always been made by established platoons, but the men selected had been drawn from all four. They’d also always left at dawn, so this was either a rush, or something that required the cover of darkness. Or both. Had the ambassador given the Norsari a special mission?

  Alex stepped back. “Carry on,” he told Casseck, who took charge. The designated soldiers fell out of formation and headed for the supply tents.

  Prince Nicholas folded his arms and pouted. “I never get picked.”

  Sage waited until nearly noon before seeking out Henry, one of the squires whose name had been called. He was in his open tent, sorting his gear while his tent mate, the prince, sulked from where he sat mending a tear in his tunic.

  “Hello, Henry,” Sage called as she approached. “I heard you won’t be coming today.” The squire had eagerly joined the prince’s lessons with her, though it was probably less for learning and more to avoid cleaning out the horse pen in the afternoons.

  Henry looked up. He was the scrawniest of the four squires—about her height and weight—and she was often paired with him in sparring. “Good morning, Mistress Sage. I was just telling His Highness that these patrols are less fun than he thinks.”

  “He doesn’t take into account how his being gone adds to my workload,” said Nicholas peevishly.

  “I’ve never been on one,” Sage replied, “so I can’t say.” She surveyed the issued gear laid out on Henry’s bedroll. “What have you got there?” she asked, pointing to a shapeless bundle.

  Henry held up a long, wide strip of cloth. “I’m to make this into some kind of head scarf. Supposed to cover my face, too.” He glanced at the prince. “But someone is using my needle and thread at the moment.”

  “Hold your horses,” the prince snapped. “If you’re taking the kit with you, I need to do this now.”