The Midnight Spy

by Kiki Hamilton

  Nica held his gaze for another minute, debating the truth of his answer. Finally, she nodded. “Thank you, for that, at least.” She turned away and reached a hand out to the wall to steady herself as they walked down the hallway.

  “Pull your hoods up,” Shanks said. “We need to keep this secret to ourselves for now.”

  SHANKS SENT JAANIYAH with Sebande and took Nica along a back route through half-lit passages and unused stairways. They didn’t speak as they walked and Nica kept her head down, afraid someone would ask her questions she couldn’t answer.

  She refused Shanks’ arm, but her steps slowed and her chest heaved as they climbed one set of steep stairs after another.

  Shanks stopped and turned to face her in the secluded stairwell, blocking the way. It reminded her of the moment he’d caught her on the turret stairs in Berjerac.

  “Nica.” He put a finger under her chin to raise her face. She jerked away, glaring at him. “This wasn’t the way I’d planned to get you here. But when I saw you there at the edge of the sliver…’ he hesitated. “I knew the soldiers were on the other side…there wasn’t a lot of time… it was the only way I could think to save you.”

  “Save me?” Nica asked in surprise. “Weren’t you being followed?”

  “Well.” He seemed to choose his words carefully. “The guards who held Jacoby were sleeping off a strong drink and were in no shape to follow me quite yet.” He brushed his long hair out of his eyes. “It was the only way I could think to alert Sebande before you rode right into them.”

  His handsome face was familiar, yet the only things Nica knew about him for sure was that he was a spy. She couldn’t trust anything he said. The only other thing she knew was that she was alone among the enemy, being held like a pawn in an intricate game of Masaa.

  “There is much I don’t understand,” she finally said, “but I do know I’m away from Mosaba and still alive.” It wasn’t a thank you, but it wasn’t a declaration of war between them either.

  Shanks lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll take that to mean we’re friends.”

  Nica opened her mouth to retort but Shanks put a gentle finger to her lips. “Shhh, don’t spoil it.”

  WHEN THEY REACHED the tall, ornate set of double doors that led into Jaaniyah’s chambers they found Sebande standing there.

  “How’s the weather?” Shanks asked as he pushed one of the doors open.

  “Sesp’i va.” Sebande said, his face expressionless.

  Calm winds. Nica automatically translated the Jarisan words in her head. Why were they talking about the weather?

  Shanks nodded and beckoned for Nica to follow him. She ignored Sebande but felt the weight of his dark eyes on her as she passed.

  “There you are,” Jaaniyah said in a waspish tone. “What took so long?”

  “We took the back stairs,” Shanks said lightly. “It’s a longer route.”

  Nica scanned the room before her. Rich paintings hung from the walls: Snow-capped mountains, dazzling rivers, tropical jungles. It was almost as if jewels had been encrusted in the artwork to dazzle the viewer with their glittering beauty. Tall ornate vases stood on intricately designed pedestals, an eggshell quality to their perfection. The rich, dark brown hides of giant wildebeare were strewn over the stone floors, the translucent glow of the ivory-tipped hairs soft and beckoning.

  “Yes, well, now what do we do?” Jaaniyah asked. She turned toward Shanks as though she didn’t want Nica to hear what she said. “Have you talked to Becknah?”

  “I have.”

  “Then you know about the delivery.”

  “Yes,” Shanks replied. “But that’s not going to happen until later. Closer to dawn, I believe.” He looked around. “Until then, I think we all should get some rest. Jaaniyah, in the morning you’ll need to tell your ladies and maids you don’t want anyone entering your chambers for a while. We’ll put a guard on your door for now.”

  “No maids? What in the world will I say is my reason?” Jaaniyah asked.

  Nica didn’t miss Shanks’ smile and the easy familiarity between the two.

  “You’re the princess,” he said. “Since when do you need a reason?” His lips twisted in a grin as he chuckled. “Just tell them you want some privacy for once.”

  He walked to another set of double doors and pushed them open. “Jaaniyah, your bed’s as large as a ship, can you and Nica both sleep in it?”

  Jaaniyah gasped and gave Shanks a horrified look. “Sleep together?”

  Nica frowned. She wasn’t going to sleep with this stranger. Even if she did look familiar. She glanced into Jaaniyah’s bedchamber. A long, thin sofa sat against one wall, the diamond tucked upholstery and dark carved legs and frame as beautiful as a piece of art.

  “One of you could sleep there—” Shanks pointed at the sofa— “and the other in the bed. You could take turns.”

  Jaaniyah crossed her arms and gave Shanks a cold look. “I am not sleeping on the sofa.”

  “It’s fine.” Nica interrupted. “I’m glad to sleep there.” She was so tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. She really just wanted to close her eyes and stop thinking.

  “It’s settled then.” Shanks looked over at Nica. “You’ll have to remain hidden for a few days. The palace is in turmoil at the moment with the king being captured. We’ll have to wait to announce your presence.”

  Nica jerked her head up. “Where is the king? Did he live?”

  “He was too injured to travel all the way here,” Shanks said. “We have him hidden within Jarisa at the moment and have sent the healer to him. However, we’re going to pretend to bring him home so Mosaba thinks he’s protected within the palace walls.”

  “Jonn, should you reveal so much?” Jaaniyah frowned at Shanks and spoke as if Nica wasn’t in the room. “She’s lived in Sartis her entire life. Are you so sure of her loyalties?”

  “I understand your concern, Jaaniyah, but I feel certain Nica wouldn’t do anything to help Mosaba. You might remember she risked her own life trying to escape from him.”

  Nica looked at the young soldier in surprise. He almost sounded proud of her.

  Shanks rested his hand on the hilt of the sword tied to his side. “I’ll be back later. In the meantime, there will be a guard at the door, but not Sebande, so don’t let him know there’s more than one of you in here.” He looked from one to the other before his eyes settled on Nica. His face was expressionless, but she thought she saw some emotion flicker in his eyes as he waved an arm and bowed stiffly from the waist. “Welcome home.”

  er newfound sister was gone by the time Nica awoke the next morning. She took the opportunity to relax in her makeshift bed on the couch, trying to gather the energy to rise. It had been difficult to fall asleep and when she finally had, her dreams had been dark and fitful.

  She spied a dark blue dress draped across the end of the princess’ rumbled bed that she assumed was meant for her. She slid from her covers and hurried toward the basin of water Jaaniyah had mentioned would be available. Oh, how she longed to wash the stench of the prison cell and her frantic night of traveling from her body. Plus, being busy kept her from questioning everything she believed about her life to be true. At this time, she didn’t know what the truth was and it was easier to not think about it than have questions without answers going round and round in her mind.

  Nica peeled off her borrowed nightdress and let it drop to the floor. Last night, she had tucked her own clothes, the black valote pants, dark shirt and cloak, in a lower drawer for safe keeping. No telling when she might need them again.

  She washed quickly, shivering from the combination of cool water and chilly air. The soap was scented with the fragrance of honeysuckle and the smell brought back pleasant memories of sunny days alone in the orchard, safely hidden from Mosaba’s ire.

  Nica toweled her hair as dry as possible and finger combed the long tresses into wavy strands that hung down her back. Shivering, she reached for the dress and pu
lled it over her head.

  The dress was more ornate than she was used to wearing, with gold embroidery stitched in a V down the bodice and an elaborate design of gold stitching down the front of the skirt. The bodice was quite tight, pressing her breasts up and over the square neckline, even without the laces being pulled tight. Nica glanced down and tugged on the material trying to pull it a bit higher.

  A knock on the door interrupted her and she turned with a start.

  “Anyone home?” Shanks called into the bedchamber.

  Nica inhaled. Shanks had brought food. The tempting smell made her stomach growl in anticipation. She stepped around the corner and saw his eyes widen.

  “Oh.” His eyes swept her from head to toe, pausing briefly on her chest, then his face went completely blank. “You look different.” Then as if realizing perhaps he hadn’t been the most tactful, he added, “I mean, I’m glad to see you’re up and dressed.”

  Heat rose in Nica’s cheeks. “Jaaniyah was nice enough to let me borrow a gown.” She motioned over her shoulder. “But I need someone to tie the back.”

  Shanks set the tray he was carrying on a nearby table and bowed with a flourish. “At your service, M’lady.”

  Nica spun in place and presented her back to him trying not to think about what it looked like to have a young man she barely knew help her dress. His warm fingers brushed the skin of her back and her cheeks burned hotter. She twisted her fingers together in an effort not to fidget. “Do you know how?”

  “Not much different than putting a saddle on a horse, I would think.” Shanks breath was suddenly warm on her ear. “Though you stand still much better than my horse does.”

  His horse? He thought of her in the same class as his horse?

  Just as quickly as her nerves had appeared, they vanished. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked drily.

  Shanks chuckled. “In my world, it is.”

  “Because I’d hate to make your horse jealous.”

  He laughed louder. “No need to worry. My horse is a stallion.” He whispered into her ear again. “He doesn’t get jealous—he takes what he wants.” He gave one last tug on the laces and stepped back. “There, all trussed up.”

  Nica turned around to face him. He wore deep brown breeches and a crisp white shirt, the laces at his neck undone, revealing the top of his muscled chest. “Thank you.”

  He inclined his head, but a smirk tweaked his lips. “The least I can do.”

  “That’s true,” Nica replied. She turned away before he could see her smile. The familiar weight and drag of her skirt reminded her how much she enjoyed the freedom of breeches. She stepped over to the tray of food. “May I bring the tray over here by the window? The sun is just cresting the trees. I like the light.” She spoke in Sartish out of habit.

  “Allow me,” Shanks said, taking the tray from her and proceeding to a small alcove with a window seat. Nica sat down next to where he had balanced he tray and nodded at the sword that hung from his side.

  “Do you ever take that thing off?”

  “No need to.” He smiled. “She’s feather light and blessed with Mercedes’ kiss. Would you like to see her?” In an effortless movement Shanks whipped the blade out of his belt so fast all Nica saw was a blur of light accompanied by a whooshing sound.

  Her stomach twisted in an unfamiliar way. Was Shanks involved with someone named Mercedes? Perhaps she had kissed the blade for luck. She couldn’t stop the question from escaping her lips. “Who’s Mercedes?”

  Shanks held her gaze with his mesmerizing blue eyes. “Mercedes is Death’s gatekeeper.”

  Nica wrinkled her nose. “How charming.”

  Shanks gave a soft laugh and held the thin blade up, turning it to catch the light. “She has saved my life more than once,” he murmured.

  For a second, Nica wondered exactly how many times the sword had saved Shanks, then she shook her head. She didn’t want to know about his mercenary lifestyle. What she should be wondering is how many lives that sword had taken. And what she was going to do now that Toppen was missing and she was here?

  “Are you hungry?” Shanks asked, sliding his sword back into his belt loop.

  “Yes,” Nica admitted. “I’m starving.” She eyed the food eagerly.

  Shanks pointed at the items on the tray. “We’ve got hapon, samonte, eggs and biscuits.”

  “They look delicious.” Without thinking, she added, “Have you eaten? Would you like to join me?”

  Shanks lips turned up in a lazy smile. His expression made her feel as if she’d played into his hand, making her regret her impulsive offer. She needed to remember that Shanks was not her friend.

  “I couldn’t possibly eat this much food in a week,” she added, as though in explanation for her generosity. “And I’d hate for it to go to waste.” At home, she usually ate alone unless she could find a servant who would sit with her and even that was rare, for most of the servants knew that Mosaba would not allow them to mingle with his daughter. To her surprise, he agreed.

  “I’d be honored.” Shanks sat down across from her and reached for a biscuit.

  Nica dug in, enjoying the light flaky layers of the biscuit and fluffy eggs, seasoned with the spice of the samonte. She ate until almost half the tray had been consumed. Finally sated, she looked up to find Shanks watching her with an amused expression. A blush warmed her cheeks. She recognized the familiar tilt to his lips and realized he was going to start teasing her, so she spoke first.

  “So, are you from Jarisa, then? Your accent doesn’t sound quite right.”

  Jonn Shanks took a bite of hapon. “How do you feel about being from Jarisa? Now that you know the truth?”

  Nica glanced up at him. “Honestly, if I think on it too long my head starts to hurt.” She enjoyed looking at him; at the scar that disappeared into his eyebrow, white against the golden brown of his skin; how his strong, straight nose leaned slightly to the right; the three small silver hoops that hung from each ear which fit him so naturally. “But you didn’t answer my question,” she continued. “You pretended to be a soldier for Sartis, but you weren’t. You act now as if you’re a soldier for Jarisa, and in fact, risked your life for Jarisa, but your accent doesn’t ring true to someone born here.”

  Her eyes probed his face, searching for the truth. He needed someone to properly trim his hair—the shaggy ends were long enough they brushed against his shoulders. For the first time she noticed the purple shadows that colored the skin under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept well either. “Exactly who are you, Jonn Shanks?”

  Shanks’ expression wavered. Nica saw a flicker of something in his eyes, then it was gone, hidden behind his amused expression.

  “Ah, beautiful Nica.” He spoke in flawless Jarisan. “When you ask so sweetly it’s all I can do not to tell you my secrets and then make up some more, just to keep you happy.” He gave an exaggerated sigh. “But I fear your loyalty has not been sworn to me, so I don’t dare lay my life in your hands.” He gave her an innocent smile.

  Nica raised her eyebrows. So he could speak like a native if he chose too. Just as he had spoken in perfect Sartish when it had suited his purposes.

  She responded in Jarisan, “Trust can’t be given before it is earned,” pleased at the surprised look on Shanks’ face.

  “I see I’m not the only one with secrets.” He nodded in approval as his gaze dropped to where her breasts swelled above the neckline of her low-cut gown. She wished she could tug the bodice of her dress up to her neck, exposed before his scrutiny in more ways than one. His gaze returned to her face. “You’re an interesting girl, Nica Jacoby.”

  Nica froze. Jacoby? Was that who she was? “I simply meant to point out that anyone can speak with a proper accent,” she said sharply. “It’s not an indication of birthplace. And you don’t always speak in perfect Jarisan. There are times when I can hear something else in your pronunciation.”

  A frown tweaked Shanks’ brows but he spoke in a light v
oice. “You’ll learn that not everyone in Jarisa speaks ‘perfect Jarisan’, as you call it.” He waved his long fingers at her. “In fact, you sound more Jarisan than some who were born here.” He pushed the tray away and stood up. “Which is a good thing, as you shouldn’t speak Sartish under any circumstances right now. There is too much unrest, too much anger at what Mosaba has done.”

  Shanks gaze shifted out the window. “I’ll be gone for a day or two. You need to stay hidden in these rooms in my absence. There’s no telling what Mosaba is planning—but there will be something. And soon.”

  “You’re leaving?” Nica was shocked at how wistful she sounded and promptly wished she could take the words back. But the truth was she didn’t want Shanks to leave. He was the only familiar face in a place she’d been told her entire life was evil and wrong. Though she had escaped Mosaba, she was now the enemy among enemies.

  He swung his head toward her, a familiar smile tweaking his lips. “Why? Will you miss me?”

  “No.” Nica spat the word out and shoved herself angrily out of her seat. She knew better than to let anyone think she cared. About anything.

  His expression shifted at her anger and his tone became crisp. “I won’t be gone long. If you’re desperate, find Sebande. He’ll help you until I can get back. You can trust Sebande.”

  “Where are you going?” Nica said in a softer tone. “Are you checking on Jacoby?”

  Something that looked like truth flickered in his eyes, but he blinked and his face became a mask. “I can’t say, but it is true I have to check on some things.”

  Nica clutched her hands together and inclined her head. “Then may you travel with the blessings of the Ancients.”