“I want to talk to Tommy.”
The boy’s eyes widened and he bit the coin with a smile before jogging off into the dark expanse. I stood with my mount, heart racing, my face hardened to a careless, ominous mask. The lad returned shortly, taking the reins from me and nodding in the direction from which he’d come.
“Go on, miss. He’s waiting.”
I took a bracing breath and measured my pace as I made my way into the dim warehouse. Ears and eyes straining, I heard him before I saw him, halting halfway past a stack of crates marked with the sigil of House Eradine. My palm itched for my dagger, but I resisted the temptation.
“I hear you’re the most resourceful man in Dockside.” I turned toward the sound that had given him away: an unidentifiable metallic scratching.
He stepped into the lamplight, picking at his nail with a slender knife. Tommy was not a large man, all lean muscle and sharp edges. A ragged crop of dun hair poked out from beneath the short-brimmed cap that was popular among dock workers. He was older, near my parents’ age, with a generous amount of gray peppering his stubbled chin.
“You must be needin’ somethin’ quite badly,” he lilted casually. “Nobody pays a silver to see me.” I recognized his heavy accent from my nights at the Greyshor.
“You’re from Lloegr,” I observed.
He snorted, raising his brow. “Ye really don’t know anythin’ about me, do ye, lass?”
I know you’re a smuggler and a thief and could gut me where I stand without a second thought.
…Gods, what the hells am I doing here?
“I know who you are, though,” Tommy said, taking a few steps my way and waving his blade in my general direction. My boys and I made a hefty sum kickin’ in ribs and playin’ sentry for ye.”
He circled me, looking me up and down in my breeches and tunic. His knife tapped the hilt of the sword at my hip, the presence of which seemed to amuse him.
“Did ye come here lookin’ for a fight? Somehow I doubt ye know how to use that.”
Would you like to find out? snarled the prideful girl inside my head, but I couldn’t afford to give in to his taunts. Too much depended upon the man currently sizing me up like livestock. I focused on relaxing my face and maintaining that mask of carelessness, as sharp a weapon as I dared to wield in this company.
Having completed his loop, he stopped in front of me, squinting and making a face as he examined my bruised nose. Still, I didn’t move, didn’t speak, despite the overwhelming urge to give him one to match. At long last, he relented and leaned back on his heels, looking bored.
“Tell me what ye want.”
“I need a forger.”
He flipped his knife a few times. “That sounds illegal.”
“I imagine those crates don’t repaint themselves.”
Tommy plopped down on one of said crates, slapping it affectionately with his free hand. “These? I bought these fair ‘n square off a wine merchant just last week.” He grinned innocently. “I’ve got the papers to prove it.”
“I’m sure you do. I’m in need of some papers of my own.”
“And why should I help ye?”
“I can pay.”
“I’ve got plenty of work.” Tommy waved his knife at the stacks of illicit merchandise filling the warehouse.
“Not for long.” A flicker of uncertainty flashed across his face. There it is. “The shipments from the Darian fleet have been lagging as of late, have they not?” He didn’t confirm or deny, but I could see the gap in his mental armor. “I would imagine Lord Yuri is usually a much more…reliable business partner.”
His knife had fallen still. “I’m listenin’.”
My heart leapt. “I need papers.”
He scoffed and lolled his head. “Yeah, ye mentioned that. What kind.”
“…The kind with a golden seal.”
I watched his face close like a trap. “No.”
“Just a manifest and an accompanying letter.”
He jabbed a finger at me. “No.”
“If you refuse to aid me, the Van Dryns will lose control of the White Sea. The bulk of your enterprise will vanish overnight.”
“Better than a date with the gallows.” Tommy shook his head. “I’ll not hang for ye, lass.”
He will refuse, my mother had said. As well he should.
“You’d do it for Ana.”
I watched his walls crumble, that honed-steel stare faltering, fading to a hollow mire of grief and old ghosts.
“Where did ye hear that name?” he whispered.
“The debt has been called. You can make me what I need, can you not?”
“…Can be done.”
“Good. Here’s what I need…”
Three days later, I returned to Dockside under cover of a cloudy night. Only a few lamps flickered in the dark warehouse, casting the barest hints of light into the cavernous building. A somber lad eyed me tentatively as he took my mount and pointed me toward a small office off to one side.
I dropped the remainder of Tommy’s payment on the table in front of him - half my dowry, a substantial amount of coin. He leaned back in his chair, the documents in his hand, face pale and uneasy.
“Ye haven’t thought this through, lass.” Shadowed eyes met mine, voice quiet and solemn. “Somethin’ this big, ye can’t keep it hidden. It’ll come out eventually, an’ when it does, those ye mean to help’ll take the brunt of it.”
He was right, of course. My gamble, our gamble, was that it wouldn’t come out until the tide had turned. “Steps are being taken to postpone that eventuality.”
The barest hint of a smile curled the corner of his mouth. There was much more awareness behind those eyes than Tommy let on.
“Ye don’t get to steal ten of the King’s ships and just walk away. Someone’s gonna die for it.” He leaned forward over his desk, holding out the papers. “That someone better not be me.”
I took them gingerly from his hand and examined the seal, drawing a scrap of parchment from my pocket – a piece of the formal invitation to the equinox hunt. In the dim light, I held the two seals side by side. It was exquisite work, not that I knew how such documents should look beyond the circle of gold wax I had brought for comparison. For that, I had to rely on Tommy and my mother’s trust in him. I hoped it was not misplaced.
“You’ll see that they’re routed properly?” I asked, returning the documents to him.
He exhaled heavily and nodded. The orders had to be delivered via the correct avenues, to reinforce their validity. We had no access to Royal Couriers. Neither did Tommy, for that matter, as the King had not sent any missives in six months. What Tommy did have was men aplenty, and appearances are easy enough to fake. It unsettled me, how heavily we were relying on one man. I fixed him with a hard stare, wishing for a flicker of a moment that Quintin was there to scowl menacingly over my shoulder.
“I’m sure you recognize that you hold the lives of everyone I love in your hands.” I rested my shield arm on the hilt of my sword. The threat did not need to be voiced.
He sat back in his chair, eyeing me with an amused smirk. “As much as I’d like to see that…”
His drawl trailed off as a young boy slipped into the room. Tommy handed him the packet, which vanished into his satchel before the scrappy lad flashed me a grin and disappeared back out into the night.
“My boys’ll see yer letters delivered. After that, yer on yer own.” He stood, squaring his shoulders. “Tell Ana this makes us even, and don’t come back here again.”
The next month was an excruciating test of my nerve. I drilled in the garden for hours every day, exercise the only thing that could keep my mind off our gambit for any length of time. Augustus and Aubrey returned to the city two weeks after Quintin and I had shown up on my parents’ stoop with two nags and a busted nose. The latter, thankfully, was healing, but there was still some residual bruising when I went to the Chamberlain manor to we
lcome my friend home and resume our lessons.
I told him of our harried journey on horseback, and of the failed audience with the King, but said nothing of our conspiracy with Tommy. Mother’s instructions on that front had been made painfully clear.
“He just left?” Aubrey asked, dumbfounded, when I told him of Quintin’s abrupt departure. We sat in the salon after the day’s lesson, sipping wine in our plush armchairs with the warm spring breeze swirling through the open windows. It felt like it used to, almost.
“Said he was going home to Tuvria.”
My friend scowled into his glass. “What a cock, abandoning his post without a word.”
“I think I pushed him too far,” I speculated quietly, regret creeping in as that awful night in the forest flashed in my memory. “He never wanted to be responsible for me in the first place.”
“And yet he practically begged to go to Agorai with you.” Aubrey watched me with one brow raised.
“That was different. After what happened, he knew I was afraid to go without him.” His face swam in my mind, scowling and shooting me his disapproving glare. I wondered where he was.
Stubborn ass.
“Have you seen Leon since you’ve returned?” I prompted, eager for a change of topic.
Aubrey smiled into his glass. “Tonight.”
I swallowed the last of my wine and stood. “I’d best not keep you, then.”
“I’m sure you have plenty of other important business to attend to. Innocent rabbits to murder, monarchs to insult.”
He stood with a bounce and teasing wink. I embraced him tightly, both of us sobering as the reality of our world settled back around us.
“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he murmured into my hair.
In truth, I’d missed it as well. My name day had gone entirely unremarked in light of recent events. Aubrey held me at arm’s length, long fingers gripping my shoulders.
“I know you well enough to know when you’re not telling me something.” He forestalled any protest with a shake of his head. “I’m not asking. Just…whatever you’re about, please be careful. I could not bear to lose you.”
The thought put a lump in my throat. “Nor I, you.”
I clutched him to me once more, burying my face against his neck and breathing deep his scent: fresh ink and cedar. Though the familiarity of him brought me a momentary measure of comfort, that twisting, sickly feeling of worry returned the moment I walked out the door.
At the end of the month, news finally came. My mother and I were out in the city with Gabe, visiting Sadie at her shop for some summer garments. When we’d concluded our business and stepped out onto the busy street, a scrappy boy scrambled up to me from an alley and tugged on my dress. I looked down, worried he might make for my coin purse, but stopped short at the somber look in his eyes.
“Ten oaks make for the wolf’s den.” His gaze flicked to my mother. “The debt is paid.”
Without another word, he vanished into the crowd. We waved off Gabe’s inquiries and made sure to take our time getting back to the house, cautious of watchful eyes in the crowded city streets.
When we returned to the manor in the late afternoon, I locked myself in my chambers as my mother went to report the news to my father. Finally alone, the last vestiges of my long-held composure melted away. I collapsed against the door, a crushing wave of fear, desperation, and relief crashing over me as I slid to the floor, hugging my knees and clutching my sapphire ring to my chest.
Adrian.
I prayed to Adulil, to Brizo, to any gods that might be listening, that he was still alive to receive my aid. It had come at a steep cost, and I could only hope we would remain undiscovered long enough for it to make a difference.
It was a lie in plain sight. Every man, woman, and child in Petrion would see the galleons come into port. Word would spread of reinforcements from the King’s Navy, reinforcements he had specifically refused. We were relying heavily on Amenon’s self-imposed isolation, and Adrian’s voracity at sea, to ensure that the news would not reach the King or his white-robed advisor.
All of it – every carefully-weighed risk, every day of pretense, every life that hung in the balance – all had been so carefully tucked away inside that dark place at my core. Every ounce of fear I’d buried surged to the surface at the news that somehow, our impossible gambit had worked; one fragile, precarious step forward. I allowed myself to feel it, just for a moment, to admit that I was utterly terrified by what was at stake, before heaving a few deep breaths and shoving it all right back down again.
When I’d recovered my composure and refreshed my face in the wash basin, I smoothed my skirts and made my way to my parents’ study. Squaring my shoulders, my knuckles rapped the dark wooden door, fingers turning the handle without waiting for a response. The elegant wool carpet muffled my footsteps as I crossed the room toward them, my mother’s slender fingers gripping a letter while they stood talking at the desk. Discussion halted when I neared, two pairs of green eyes turning toward me. One, as deep and dark as an ancient forest. The other gleaming, bright and fierce, like new growth in spring. I knew by the flicker in the latter that she could see the question written on my face.
“Damien,” she murmured.
He breathed deep and excused himself from the room. I held my mother’s gaze, motionless, until the latch clicked behind me. This woman, whose hands had cradled me as a babe, whose voice had soothed many hurts, she was a stranger to me. She had taught me to be a lady, to play music and recite poetry, to dance and curtsy and make polite conversation. But there was also the other woman, the one I barely knew, who taught me how to detect poisons, to manipulate men, to seek out and exploit weakness. I needed them reconciled. Any sliver of doubt that remained had vanished when Tommy’s runner had spoken to her.
“Who is Ana?” My whisper cut the air between us. We both knew the answer.
To her credit, she didn’t flinch or dissemble. Gods know, my mother could fool anyone, even me. Instead, she set down the letter in her hand and straightened across the table from me.
“Aileana is the name my mother gave me,” she began slowly. I didn’t press. She knew what I wanted from her. “She told me it meant ‘green meadow’.” A long, painful pause followed. “I watched her die. Slowly. Piece by piece. Ten years spent trading her dignity for coin at some nameless brothel in east Dockside.”
Despite the harrowing truth of those words, she delivered them with impeccable calm, her sharp eyes watching the understanding dawn across my face.
My mother. A whore’s get. Not the distant daughter of a lesser Lazerin bloodline, as her name might suggest. With her dark hair and green eyes, I’d never doubted the same assumption made by everyone else. The simplest deceptions are some of the easiest to sell, and she’d built her entire life upon one.
“I shortened it to Ana when I started running jobs.”
Jobs? I asked with a quick knit of my brows.
She dropped her gaze at that, hands fidgeting with some papers on the desk. “It was innocent enough at first, deliveries and the like. I was just trying to earn some coin, to hire a physician when she caught the pox. When she died, the madam put me on the street. One of the alley boys I’d been running jobs with brought me to a man named Fenton.” Her eyes flitted back to mine. “Tommy’s father.”
She rounded the desk and I trailed her to the sideboard, where she poured us each a glass of wine from a decanter. After handing me mine, she drained her own, somehow making even that boorish gesture look elegant.
“Fenton was a brute and a bastard,” she continued as she refilled the crystal goblet. “He and his crew ran a variety of schemes on the wharf, mostly smuggling and the like. When I proved I could be useful, he took me in and taught me much of what I know.” She sank down into a chair across from me, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. “Much of which, I have taught you.”
“Why?” I asked quietly, shaking my head. “
Why would he take you in?”
She recoiled slightly, offended. “Because I was good at it. Picking pockets was the least of it, though that’s where we all started.” She took a slow sip of wine. “In the early days, Fenton mostly used me as bait, luring merchants into alleyways to hold them up and take their coin. I wanted more, though. I wanted respect.” Satin skirts rasped as she shifted in her seat. “So I started running my own jobs on the side. I discovered the value of information. I built my own crew and we earned a reputation for ourselves. When you wanted to know something, you came to Ana.”
The slight smile that curved her mouth faded, eyes darkening with old shadows. What subtle pride I’d been able to detect in her voice vanished, replaced by something bitter and savage.
“I was fourteen when Fenton found out. He beat me within an inch of my life and tossed me to his men.”
Uncertainty wavered in her eyes for a long moment before she tugged aside the neck of her gown to reveal a crude brand on her shoulder in the shape of the letter ‘F’.
“I was unconscious when he did this.”
Fourteen… I’d been wandering Laezon with Izikiel at fourteen. Riding with James. Playing pranks on Samson. She’d been orphaned and homeless, raped and mutilated. I knew better than most how little she would want my pity, but I couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down my cheek as my mother smoothed the fabric of her dress back into place.
“He wanted me to know he owned me.” She paused, her body stiff with rage as she swallowed the tremor creeping into her voice. “Tommy and a few of the other lads pooled their spare coin for a physician. It took two months for my ribs to heal, another month after that before I was back to running jobs again. I kept my head down and stayed out of the way for a few years, biding my time. Fenton only got worse, bringing on more young girls to work for him. I tried to help them, to keep them from his worst impulses. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes not.”
Traitor (A Crown of Lilies Book 1) Page 36
