by Dawn Cook
Cold despite the fire, I watched the two master players return to brooding over the chart, arguing over who got how many men and how they should get past the city walls under the notice of the pirate ship still at anchor in the harbor. They’d argue until the sun came up and it was too late to do anything.
My stomach clenched, and I felt a sweat break out over me. I was going to take that wagon out, and it was going to have the ransom on it. Duncan’s life depended on it. If I couldn’t convince them with my words, by God, I’d do it by magic.
I listened to my breath slip in and out of me as I steadied myself, wondering if I could. Manipulating memories was a master’s skill. Kavenlow hadn’t even tried teaching me yet. But as Jeck said, I had been doing master twists of magic since being bitten. It would be the only good thing to come of it if I could.
Kavenlow was murmuring something, and I focused on him. Forgive me, Kavenlow, I thought. But I could see no other way.
I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the fire on my face. Fingers tingling, I willed more venom into me, increasing my pulse and quickening my breath. I stifled a gasp when a rush of power flooded me. For a moment, I sat and did nothing, hoping neither of them looked up as I panted, trying to get ahold of it. I had no idea the strength that was at my thoughts to wield had been this strong. Pushing aside my fear, I reminded myself that it was to save Duncan’s life.
Kavenlow, I thought, closing my eyes so I could find his presence in my mind easier. My chin trembled when I sensed his bird-quick thoughts, silver against the closed blackness of his character. It had to be him, as I sensed a great concern.
Aloud and in my head came Jeck’s voice saying, “No, ten. More than that, and they’ll be noticed.”
My lips moved, and I realized I’d found Jeck’s thoughts. My surprise melted into understanding; I had spent all winter practicing finding him by tracing his emotions through the palace. Of course I would find him first.
“Ten isn’t enough,” Kavenlow said, sounding peeved and jolting me from my thoughts. “You said there were at least forty men on that boat.”
“And at least six of them will still be on the boat,” Jeck said, and I found myself mouthing the words again. I had to find them both. I had to do this simultaneously, or it wouldn’t work. Dizzy, I willed more venom into me, and Jeck’s emotions came out of the blackness of my mind like a slap. My breath caught, and I held it for a second, then started breathing in time with him. He was irritated, wanting to act now, not waste more time on this old-man planning of movements. I knew the feeling.
“That leaves thirty-four men on land,” Jeck said, not a hint of his bother showing in his voice, and I wondered how much was going on under his closed demeanor that I continually missed. “Ten men plus me will do it,” he added. “Four if I use venom. They stole mine. I’ll need some of yours.”
“I’m not giving you any of my toxin,” Kavenlow said, sounding insulted. “I cannot believe you asked.”
Confidence joined Jeck’s annoyance. “You need more men than we have to take the boat successfully as it is. Don’t get your nets in a knot; I’ll replace your toxin, old man.”
The last had been a dark mutter, and Kavenlow sighed. Leaving a breath of my awareness in Jeck, I sought out Kavenlow. I floundered, his higher tolerance to venom making him harder to find. But it was his voice—ever familiar, ever the sound of security—that led me to him.
“Four men,” I heard Kavenlow say, and I followed the echo of it in my head to fasten on to his thoughts. They flowed like gray silk amid the black, almost unseen, like smoke. “That’s rather bold of you,” he added. My hand rose to my chin, and the soft feeling of his beard rose through my tingling fingertips. I had them both.
Guilt tightened through me, though I hadn’t done anything yet. It wasn’t like reading their minds. More like standing too close and whispering into their ears, eavesdropping on their thoughts an instant before they had them.
A wash of bother flooded me, an emotion not mine. “I kill men for my bread and butter,” Jeck’s voice echoed in my ears and head, frightening the wind into a gibbering silence. “You do books. I only need four, and most of them will be for show.”
Kavenlow’s sour tone mixed with it, making me ill. “Four men with my toxin. Fine. But they won’t be my best men.”
“I don’t care. I’ll be the one doing most of it.”
I waited for the opportunity to make a suggestion to put the ransom on the wagon as a precaution for not finding my sister and Alex where they thought they were. Four men would leave room for money. Why not put it on the wagon with the men just in case?
My hands were clenched in my lap as I tried to keep my own heartsick emotions to myself lest they pick them up. I knew this was wrong, but I had to do it.
“There aren’t many men to choose from,” Kavenlow said. I heard a rustle of paper, and his mood sifting through mine turned glum. “All but a few of my best are out ranging for them. We can’t wait for their return. We need to move the land force at least within the hour so we can remain under the cloak of darkness.”
There it is, I thought, clamping down on my excitement. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but I didn’t trust myself to remain undetected much longer. Getting them to put money on that wagon instead of men was going to be impossible, but if I could put off their attack for half a day, I could take the wagon of money in the morning, get my sister and Alex, and be back in the palace as they were starting to move. Once the pirates had their money, Duncan would be safe. He could slip away when the pirates were celebrating. Alex, Contessa, and I could be back in the palace before Kavenlow had sailed from the harbor and Jeck had left the city.
An hour? I thought more firmly, focusing on the pattern of Jeck’s thoughts, melding my will with his until he whispered the words in tandem with me. Confusion flashed through Jeck, and I suggested it was because of what Kavenlow had said. Still he hesitated, and I almost passed out from the venom I drew upon. It’s sundown they want the wagon to pass the gates. Sundown, not sunup. I imagined the cool breath of the hour, the red angle of the sun, the sound of leather creaking, and the smell of horse. It’s sundown. The fool of a chancellor wants to move too quickly. It would alert the pirates that not all was as it seemed.
“An hour?” Jeck said hesitantly, and my heart pounded. My eyes almost flew open, and I forced them shut. “It takes only five hours to get to that river by way of boat or horse. Moving sooner will alert them of what we’re doing.”
The small sounds of Kavenlow rustling in the paper ceased. I could almost see his questioning look, the firelight glinting on his eyes as he peered at Jeck in disbelief. I turned my thoughts more fully upon the gray silk of him. My eyes warmed under my closed lids. Betrayal rose high in me, making my chest hurt. This was wrong. So wrong.
“Noon?” my teacher said.
I scrambled to find Kavenlow, but his venom-rich mind slipped from mine. My dread began to overshadow his confusion. I was losing him. He was too strong.
“They wanted the wagon to come out at sunset,” Jeck said, sounding suddenly unsure. His doubt joined Kavenlow’s, making my fear double, mixing with their emotions in a chaotic slurry that left me reeling and my head pounding. “That way we can bring whatever men out in the morning crush and the pirates would be none the wiser,” Jeck finished.
For Duncan, I thought, trying to shield my desperation from them. I had to do this for Duncan, or he would be killed. I would have nothing. No game, no sister, no life with Duncan. Nothing.
Gritting my teeth and pressing my eyes tight to keep the tears from leaking out, I pushed aside my feelings of right and wrong, wrapping my will about Kavenlow’s slippery, gray-ghost thoughts. This was wrong. I didn’t want to do it.
Sundown, I thought. The wagon goes at sundown. The men slip out with the morning crush and wait until noon to move.
“That’s right,” Kavenlow said, his confusion wavering. He hesitated, and I felt his certainty strengthen. “Why di
d I think we needed to move that close so soon? And waiting until noon will give us more men back in the capital to choose from.”
Jeck said nothing, and a tear made a warm trail down my face. I left their thoughts with a rush, floundering and holding my breath until I reclaimed the feelings that were only mine. I was loathsome and unclean. I was the filth scraped off the boats and left in the chu pits to rot in the sun. It had saved Duncan’s life, and it was the most awful thing I had ever done.
“Sunset,” Jeck said slowly. “Where’s that list of men back in the capital already.”
I’m so sorry, Kavenlow, I thought, taking a shuddering breath and holding it. Please forgive me.
I opened my eyes, wiping them on the back of my hand. Jeck and Kavenlow were just as I had last seen them. Kavenlow shuffled through the stack of papers that had come in with the latest reports of rumors from the city. “Here,” he said, leaning close with a list of names. “If you have the land force, you’ll want Jamie and Turlo. They grew up in Saltwood. They might even have an idea of where the pirates are holed up.”
It was done. Shoulders hunched, I stood, wavering on my feet. Neither man looked up as I used the residual magic resonating in me to keep them from noticing me. It was easy as I was still sensitized to their individual thoughts. Hunched in heartache and dizzy from the venom, I walked slowly from the hall, working to keep my steps soft.
For the first time in my life, I had used my magic to deceive. It will be the last, I vowed as I made my uncertain way to the stables. But what could Kavenlow do to me for my deception? Cast me out? Make me leave him? He was going to do that anyway.
Twenty-four
“One more, yet, Tess,” Thadd said, pushing a heavy satchel onto the wagon bed and snuggling it up to the other three. The rare spice in their tight chests shifted closer to me, sending the exotic scent to tickle my nose.
I nodded, keeping my head lowered as I stood beside the driver’s bench. In honor of my subterfuge, I was wearing a worn dress that was too small and dingy with grime. I had worn it while retaking my palace last spring—having to hide it from Heather so she wouldn’t burn it—and I would wear it again to rescue my sister. I had been recognized at the gate looking much worse, but I’d wanted to be identified. This time, I didn’t.
Thadd walked away, his slow ponderous pace and short stature keeping him unnoticed amid the bustle of men at the stables preparing for their departure in the predawn dusk. The young sculptor was fraught with worry, his shoulders tense and expression downcast, and I watched Contessa’s first love with a heavy heart.
He had grown up with Contessa, and they had planned a simple life together before her world changed, and she went from foundling to princess in a day. Thadd loved her desperately, following her halfway across the kingdom to keep her safe from dangers he had no chance to protect her against, then showing his bravery further by changing his life to try to keep a place in hers. The simple but honest man was hurting more than anyone, and no one seemed to care as his status of “queen’s advisor” was one politely ignored and often gossiped about. Depressed, I turned away, pulling Penelope’s shawl tighter about my shoulders, and tried to stay unnoticed.
My fingers tingled with magic, and my cold nose itched with it. It ran through me in a thin, ever-present threat that was almost not there. No one would see me unless I drew attention to myself, but still, it made me nervous. The sun was almost up, and I was anxious to be away. I hadn’t had but a catnap of sleep, and breakfast had been a roll I had stolen from the baskets brought out to feed the soldiers who had responded to the ’ware fire lit in the highest tower last night and returned. Between my lack of sleep and my worry that Kavenlow or Jeck would remember that the wagon was supposed to go out at sunup not sundown, I was anxious and nauseous.
Easing into motion, I crept back into the livery for my last horse. I’d spent the night there hiding from Kavenlow. I couldn’t bear to look him in the face. I had broken his trust. I had lied and manipulated his thoughts. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to make amends. He would never trust me again. Not that it mattered.
The smell of horse and leather brought a lump into my throat, reminding me of him. It was eerily quiet since most of the mounts were gone or in the yard. I went unhesitatingly to the last of the three mares that I had picked out hours ago. Fingers stiff from the morning cold, I saddled the remaining soft gray with a riding pad, leaving the cinch somewhat loose. Her bridle was already in the wagon with the rest, hidden in a rough sack smelling of fish. I draped a rude blanket over the riding pad, knowing it was a thin disguise but trusting my magic to keep me and my three horses unremarked upon. They would carry my sister, Alex, and me home.
I would have taken Duncan’s horse as well in the hopes of finding him, but the gray gelding was gone, commandeered by the searching soldiers. It had been by luck and magic that these three and the one hitched to the wagon had been “overlooked.”
Backing the last mare out into the aisle, I longingly thought of Jy and Pitch. Jeck had told me they had been moved to one of the slower warships before he struck out on the burned Sandpiper. The warships were still searching—unaware that we were back at the capital—and though I was glad my horses were safe, I missed them.
My eyes rose to the wagon when I came out from the gloom of the stables and into the chill light of the coming dawn. Thadd had loaded the last bag of coin and was sitting atop the driver’s bench, his head bowed and patiently waiting with the reins in his thick hands, scarred from his profession. My shoulders slumped and my mood turned despondent. I said nothing while I tied the mare to the back of the wagon with the other two. He thought he was going.
Feet slow and reluctant, I came around to the front of the wagon. His strong jaw was clenched, as if he already knew what I was going to say. “Thadd,” I said tiredly, and he turned to me, his brown eyes showing a hint of panic.
“I’m going.”
It was soft, but heavy with determination, making me feel worse. He held out a hand, and I took it so he could help me onto the wagon. His grip was warm as he hauled me up, but I could feel the worry in it, the fear I would make him stay. I glanced behind me at the unwatching men before I sat beside him, knees together with my cold hands between them. It was a very unprincess-like position, but I looked like a street urchin and was cold. My well-made boots poked from under my ratty hem, and I pulled them under my skirt to hide them. God, please help me find the words to tell him. “Thadd—”
“I love her and I’m going,” he repeated, the desperation he had been trying to hide creeping into his slow, methodical voice. Thadd was a big, heavy man, but his heart was as pure and fragile as new ice. His lovingly made plans with Contessa had vanished like a dream hiding between wakefulness and sleep.
Miserable, I looked at the light shining on the highest of the palace towers. It had turned the milky stone to a flaming red. Red sun in morning, sailors take warning . . . I thought, refusing to believe in superstitions. I had to go. I had to leave now. I didn’t have time for this, but he, of all people, would come out of this the most wounded, no matter how it turned out. He loved her, but there was more here I had to address than his simply wanting to help rescue her.
“I know you love her,” I finally said.
His feet shifted at the unsaid “however” in my voice, drawing my gaze to his boots. They were new, a gift from Contessa, along with whatever else he needed for his work and livelihood. I knew he had only accepted them so that people wouldn’t stare and whisper at his bare feet inside the palace. He was a country artisan, and the last link Contessa had to her free, unfettered childhood.
“I need to be there,” he insisted, a hint of panic in his serious brown eyes.
“And I need to have you here,” I said. “In about three hours, Kavenlow or Captain Jeck will be looking for me, trying to make sure I don’t go out with them and foul up their plans. You’re going to have to tell them that I’m sulking in the garden.”
“I l
ove her, and I won’t stay here and do nothing. Don’t ask me to do that, Tess!”
It was a determined statement, and a lump came into my throat. I understood. I understood too well. “Please, Thadd,” I whispered. “They said only one person. It has to be me. If you come, too, they’ll assume treachery. I’m giving them exactly what they want so they have no excuse to hurt her. I lied to Kavenlow and betrayed his trust to keep her safe. If you come with me, it will endanger her.”
His breath trembled. Thick, powerful hands shook as he gripped the reins. Worry creased his face, making him look twice his age. “Does she love him?” he asked. Surprised, I stared blankly until he rubbed his forehead, and added, “Alex. Does she love him?”
My heart seemed to clench. I didn’t want to be the one to talk to him about this, but no one else would. I had a brief thought that this was the softer, but far more difficult side to being a player—manipulating people for a greater good they couldn’t see. I consoled myself in that I would be telling him this even if it didn’t fall within the span of the game, that the unfortunate tie between Contessa and Thadd had to be sundered or their entire lives would be tainted as polite society labeled their love with guilt and shame. But it didn’t make me feel any better.
“I—I think she would love him . . . in time,” I whispered, unable to look at him. “If she wasn’t already in love with you. But she loves you, Thadd,” I said, instilling my voice with a pained worry. “She won’t abandon you for him. I know it.” And she needs to, I thought, unable to say it. It was so unfair to him. God help us, it was so unfair.
Thadd dropped his head so that his long bangs hid his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”
“Thadd?” Worried that he might finally understand, I reached out. But he pushed the reins stiff with cold into my grip, and wood creaked as he swung down. Never looking back, he walked away, his head down and his back hunched. A soldier almost ran into him, the young guard’s apology seemingly unheard as Thadd never shifted his slow, ponderous pace or acknowledged him.
