Month: April 2021

The King’s Guard had the search well in hand, and though they were all happy to see Quill and complain to him about the escape, the hour of the night, and professional criminals in general, they waved off his offers of help. We must’ve looked tired, because one or two of them told us to get some rest. As we trudged back through the palace a fourth time, I reached out and laced my fingers through Quill’s.

Because I could.

He glanced at me and squeezed my hand. When we reached the end of the hallway, he stopped walking, and I turned to face him. “Stay in my room tonight,” he said softly, adding, “Just to sleep. Eloi knows we need sleep, and I will sleep better if I know you’re safe, and you’re not where anyone knows to look for you.”

My heart quickened at the thought of spending the night with Quill. Even if the intent was just sleep. He’d been so tired he’d fallen asleep on the floor under my bed—was that just yesterday? —and I’d been barely sleeping at all in the Countess’s place. The thought of spending the night with a friendly warrior at my back was just as seductive as the thought of that friend being Quill. “Alright.”

*

When the door closed and locked behind us in Quill’s suite, I felt my exhaustion deeply. I also felt intensely aware of Quill as he moved around the room and rooted in the wardrobe. I toed off my boots and began removing knives. Shiharr and Azzad first, then a handful of others. Not as many as usual, since I’d only taken what I could hide in the hoopskirt gown. Unbuckling the jacket, still the ceremonial red coat from the Queen’s Guard, I laid it on top of the knives with exaggerated care. It felt right, being here with Quill, but it was also new and alarming in its own way.

“Here,” Quill emerged from the wardrobe and handed me a tunic and loose trousers meant for sleeping. His.

“What are you going to wear?” I blurted.

He grinned. “I have another set.”

My cheeks burned, but I took the bed clothes and minced to the washroom with as much dignity as I could gather. Grown woman. Feared outlaw. Legend. Blushing fool. I took the time to take down the elaborate braids in my hair and re-braid in a single plait, and when I returned, Quill was already in bed. “What changed?” I asked him suddenly.

“What?”

“Something was different about our flirtation from the very beginning of this job—you’ve loved me for years, we’ve always flirted…but since the first time I saw you in Wimshell…”

Quill propped himself on his elbow, “That obvious?”

“As obvious and hair-raising as riding without a saddle or bridle for the first time,” I answered.

Sighing heavily, he picked at the bedspread, “Don’t laugh. But when we were south last autumn, I got sick.”

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“Because for four horrible days I had control of neither my stomach nor my bowels and I felt like I was dying a slow, ignoble, death—with ample time to review all my regrets. There’s not normally time for that when I face death.”

“Oh,” I nearly choked on the laugh that escaped.

He glared at me, but it was obvious he didn’t mean it. “They told me it was an insect bite. Which seemed especially cruel. But in that time, the things that kept me from pursuing you—kings and secrets and miles of distance—began to feel incredibly small in the grand scheme of things.”

They did feel small, now. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t loved Quill before, it’s just that now he knew I loved him. A tiny change that changed everything. The lamp by the bed was the only light, gilding his face with such tenderness. I wanted to do the same, so I crossed the room and crawled onto the bed.

Quill watched me slip under the covers and went entirely still as I traced the places the light touched his face. Eloi. I could hardly believe I could.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” his voice was thick. The light glinted off the green in his eyes. Such a beautiful soul.

Leaning close, I kissed him, lingering and gentle. “Good night, Quill,” I breathed against his lips. Then I rolled down onto the pillows, turning my back to him. I felt the bed shift as he turned down the lamp. Then he pulled me close against his chest, one arm wrapped around my middle, the other under my head. He was warm against my back and it felt luxurious and safe with his body curled around mine. My heart raced as I felt him nuzzle my neck, a line of soft kisses covering the exposed skin before he settled where his breath touched my ear. We lay unmoving, and in a few moments his breathing became even.

It felt entirely unfair that his breathing was even already. But as I listened to the steadiness of his heart and his breath, I felt myself slipping away into sleep.

*

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The guard took off down the hall, taking the lantern with him, and moments later we heard the clanging of the prison bell. Quill and I stood in the darkness, listening to the bell, the prisoners rousing, and the shouts of the guard. My eyes adjusted to the dim and I could see the blacker dark of the bars and the pale of the stones.

“Well,” I said dryly, “We can be assured Lucius wasn’t simply a decoy.”

“Indeed.” Quill moved to the cell door, and I could feel urgency in his steps. “He probably had help.”

“Bel.”

We turned as one and started out of the prison. We met guards carrying torches heading into the prison, likely to search every nook and cranny, but we passed them and picked up a run as we re-entered the main palace. Quill knew this part of the palace better than I did, but we still snagged a servant to direct us to the guest wing. Once there, we already knew where Bel Valredes roomed. The door was as oak and ordinary looking as ever. We stopped, and exchanged a look. I drew Shiharr and Azzad, as Quill pulled out lock picks. A gentle thunk signaled his success, he put the picks away and then drew a knife of his own. He eased the door open onto total darkness. I slipped inside first, Quill followed and closed the door softly beside us. We waited, allowing our eyes to adjust. There was a gentle light from the window. I could just the see the outline of the bed, and faint hints of chairs and a couch to the far side of the room. The covers were rumpled, and there was someone under them.

It was so quiet.

Creeping close, I leaned over the bed, knife ready.

A lamp flared to life behind me, illuminating Bel Valredes with a golden tinge. He was here, I hadn’t expected him to be. His dark hair mussed, his face young and innocent in sleep. The covers only covered half his chest, and the rest was utterly naked. Of course, it was. A glance over my shoulder showed Quill with the lamp in one hand, a blade in the other.

Sheathing Shiharr, I sat on the edge of the bed and laid the cold metal of Azzad against Bel’s neck.

He startled awake, his eyes wide and dark, flicking from me to Quill. “Have you come to kill me?”

I didn’t answer immediately, letting the knife sit flat against him, a twist away from cutting. “Where is Lucius Tene?”

Bel blinked up at me. “The prison?”

“Really?” I squinted at him.

“Where else would he be? I heard he tried to kill the Countess.” Bel looked between us again. “Did something happen?”

Quill started to move around the room, lighting another lamp as he did so. “Keep him there.”

“What’s he doing?” asked Bel. He flinched as if to sit up, but I pressed the knife against him and he subsided, turning his attention to me. “What are you doing here?”

I tipped my head and studied him closely. “Have you heard of the Scythe?” I asked.

“Like…the harvest tool?”

“Just like. But it’s a person.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Our eyes locked for a moment, then, with my free hand, I peeled the covers down to show a bit more of his chest. Fornern’s fists, the man was lean and muscular. I brushed my fingertips across his chest, looking for broken skin, but unable to feel anything but the heat of his body under the brush of chest hair.

Bel shifted coquettishly. “I’m not opposed, Zare, but we aren’t exactly alone.”

“Please, Belledi,” I scoffed, “I’m looking for something.”

“Well, don’t look too low.”

I stopped; he gave me an entirely male grin. I frowned back. “The man I fought today, I think I nicked him once or twice.”

“And you think that was me?” Bel sounded incredulous.

I looked at him hard. “Yes,” I said slowly, “I think it was you.”

He laughed. “I’m…flattered?”

Quill returned to my side.

Bel, entirely too comfortable under Azzad, looked at Quill and commented, “You look familiar.”

Ignoring him, Quill said, “There’s nothing here. He has the sword and dagger you’d expect for a traveling gentleman, but that’s all.”

“No black armor?” I kept my eyes on Bel, “No splendid knives, or soft black boots? No blond-haired men masquerading as brown-haired men?”

Bel’s brows arched, interested.

“No, not here.”

Slowly, I removed Azzad from Bel’s neck and sheathed her. Bel stretched, putting his hands behind his head. With Quill close, the lamplight illuminated the corded strength of Bel’s arms, and the lean strength of his abdomen scattered with dark hair. There were a few pale scars here and there. Bel caught my eye and winked. I was tempted to stab him for being so relaxed. Instead, I took his arm and pulled it toward me. He allowed the motion, with an infuriating tilt to his lips, as I examined the callouses on his fingers. A man who rode, practiced often with the blade…I brushed my thumb over the rough skin of his fingertips…one who climbed.

Bel pulled his hand back, taking mine with it and tucking my palm briefly against his check before releasing it. “If you’re not here to kill me,” said Bel, “and you’re not planning to stay as a social call, I wouldn’t mind being left to get my rest. I’m planning to leave in the morning to pick up my new horses.”

I leaned forward, unable to deny how gratifying it was to watch his eyes get large and his chest rise in a sharp intake of breath. “I’ll leave you in peace,” I said, “But if you or Lucius Tene harm even a hair of Adelheid Wuhn’s head, I will hunt you down and kill you. I don’t care who you are or where you go.”

Bel inclined his head. “I wasn’t planning to. But, noted.”

Standing, I gave him one last look before I turned and stalked from the room. Quill doused the lamp and followed, closing the door behind us with a soft click. We walked down the hallway, but slowly, the purpose leached from our stride. “I don’t know what to do now,” I confessed. “I couldn’t get a read on him, but I am so sure it’s him. I can’t recommend that King arrest a man on the sole basis that he has calluses on his fingertips and my gut says it was him.”

“Evidence enough for me, but probably not here, with other diplomatic considerations,” concurred Quill. “If he is the Scythe, or half of him, he’s at least smart enough to not keep anything in his room. I’d search the rest of the party’s rooms but it’s a bit soon to provoke the Empire.”

 “Could he have really broken Lucius out and gotten back to his rooms so quickly?”

“Depending on when he left the party, of course. It’s also possible Tene broke himself out.”

“Possible,” I allowed, “But unlikely. Should we join the search for Lucius?”

Quill seemed to consider for a moment before answering, “We can check in with the search, but there isn’t much we can do to help them. They have hounds and if he’s to be found the King’s Guard knows the palace far better than we do. I think your threats are the best service we could’ve offered tonight.”

“Bel Valredes didn’t seemed all that frightened by them,” I said.

“He’s terrified of you,” said Quill, matter-of-factly, “And attracted to you. And I think he wants something from you. That means you have power over him.”

I made a noncommittal noise. “I have to trust Ilya Terr to keep her safe, now.”

“He’s even more invested than you are.”

*

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Quill pressed me back against my door and kissed me as if he could capture the words from my lips and swallow them whole. His hands moved from my face to my sides, spreading heat, making me feel delicate. I ran my hands over his chest, feeling ridge after ridge of thin throwing knives under his coat.

A pointed cough from one of the guards down the hall called us back to reality. Quill’s mouth was pinked and swollen from kissing, and it shimmered with the bronze from mine. I touched his lower lip with my forefinger. “You have paint…” I said.

He grinned, then tilted his head and surveyed me. “You have paint, too.”

Twisting, I looked down to where his hands still rested on my ribs, leaving little metallic smears on in their wake. I laughed. “How?”

He cupped my face again, “That’s how.”

Wrinkling my nose, I sighed, “I will not miss the make-up.”

“I kind of like it.” Quill swirled his thumbs across my cheeks. “It’s fun.”

I snorted. Then the guard coughed again and reluctantly we stepped away from each other. The Angari and the Terrim were both openly watching with bemused expressions. I put my hand on the doorknob. “Come in while I get cleaned up?”

He nodded, following me into the room and waiting while I closed the door and lit a lamp. “I originally came up here to get you so we could go interrogate the prisoner.”

“This won’t take long,” I replied, heading toward the bathing room. “I just need to not scandalize the entire palace.” I’d been alone with Quill thousands of times. Just, not right after baring my soul and kissing him passionately. But I ignored the bed and the walls and closed door and found a towel so I could wash my face. The cool water eased the heat in my cheeks and neck. Raising my voice to be heard in the other room I said, “You heard about the assassin I fought, I assume?”

“I did,” Quill’s voice floated from the bedroom, “Do you think the Scythe is a team of assassins, rather than one?”

“Lucius’s clothes and mask looked the same as the man I fought,” I replied. For a short time, the only sound was the gentle splashing as I finished removing the gold make up. I tried to rub it out of the coat, but I mostly managed to spread it, so the coat took a faint glimmer in the lamp light. That would have to do. I inspected myself in a mirror, deciding the faint touches of gold lingering around my eyes could stay, then wandered back into the bedroom rubbing oil into my skin. Quill was perched on the desk, staring at his boots, but he looked up when I entered. Fornern’s fists, that look. As if I were the only thing he ever wanted to look at. I tossed a clean, damp, towel to him. “For your hands.” With a casualness I did not feel I said, “The other assassin recognized me.”

Quill’s gaze sharpened.

“And his eyes were brown, but that’s really all I got beyond his truly impressive climbing ability. He scaled the palace walls like they were nothing. And…once he recognized me, he started trying to get away, rather than kill me.” I paused, mood thoroughly dampened, “Bel has brown eyes.”

“Do you think Bel Valredes is the other half of the Scythe?” asked Quill, evenly.

I finished with the oil and sat down on the bed. “I wouldn’t have thought it of him. Then again, I didn’t think he’d do anything as subversive as smuggle nymphs out of Dalyn, either.”

Quill made a skeptical noise. “People are rarely straight forward. I saw Valredes at the wedding after you switched back. If he is who you fought, he’s very smart.”

“I saw him, too,” I agreed. “We know the Scythe is very smart.”

After another silence, in which we both turned over our own thoughts, Quill said, “I think the Scythe being a two-man team makes more sense than the Empress sending two of her own lords to kill the Countess. It could too easily be blamed on her, and then she runs the risk of Angareth and Terrimbir uniting over a common enemy.”

“I agree.” How strange to be relieved we were dealing with the Scythe. I sighed. “There’s another thing, Quill. Lucius is good with faces, even if Bel didn’t tell him, he probably knows me. Back in Dalyn, he recognized Namal at the Midwinter Festival. He also apparently never did anything with that information since there aren’t detailed wanted posters for Namal everywhere.”

Arching a brow, Quill asked, “Are you saying you don’t want him rotting in a dungeon?”

“Capture is a professional hazard,” I allowed.

Quill’s brow climbed higher. “But.”

“But one good turn deserves another?” I rubbed my temples and was momentarily pleased that I could without smearing anything. “I don’t know.”

“We’re not breaking him out,” said Quill, firmly. “I came here to build an alliance with Angareth and Terrimbir, myself, and I am not going to undermine that.”

“Did you? Is that endorsed by your king? How fascinatingly proactive.”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, your Highness,” he replied, unfazed by my snark.

“Perhaps there simply hasn’t been enough kissing.”

“Undoubtedly. I’m at your disposal should you wish to conduct experiments.”

“Some other time,” my lips twisted in a smirk for a breath before I made myself return to the subject at hand. “I don’t know that there is anything we can do for him. I don’t see the kings being lenient under the circumstances. Though I suppose it’s possible the Imperial Ambassador will try to help him.”

“It’s possible,” agreed Quill. “We should go talk to him now, before kings and ambassadors have a chance to do anything irreversible.”

*

It didn’t take long for Quill to find an off-duty guard who knew him and was willing to detour to show us to the dungeons. I could hardly be surprised that Quill had put time and effort into building rapport with the royal guards. They were his people in a way that I didn’t have people.

I’d never been anywhere near the dungeons before. We’d crossed the river to the Palace of Domes, and from there went through the palace until we came to a long windowless corridor with two guards at the end of it.

Our guide left us with a smile and an exchange of jokes with the guards on duty. Quill and I found ourselves in a dark corridor, the only light from the lantern one of the guards carried. I paused, letting my senses adjust to the dim and the smell. It was the rank of unwashed bodies and chamber pots. Stone cells with iron bars and gates lined the walkway. Several were occupied, and some of the prisoners eyed us as we passed, but it was late, and most were sleeping on pallets. I felt my senses reaching out to them and reeled them back. I didn’t wish to know what my gifting would make of their souls. The corridor turned left, and the guard stopped a few cells down. His face went white in the pale lamplight. He began to fumble with the keys.

Quill and I came alongside him just as he got the door open and rushed in. He kicked at the straw and caught up the blanket on the pallet, shaking it vigorously.

“What’s wrong?” asked Quill, his tone suggesting he knew already.

“This was his cell,” said the guard, turning in a helpless circle. “He was in here when I came on shift.”

Quill stepped in and made a quick survey of the clearly empty corners of the cell. Straw. Pallet. Chamber pot. He tapped the stones of the wall as if he’d find a hidden passage. I moved back and looked in the cells on either side, the cells across the aisle…nothing.

Quill cursed softly.

Lucius Tene was gone.

*

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Lucius Tene stood so very still that even with Quill’s confirmation, I doubted myself. He looked all wrong with the brown hair instead of blond, and the stillness instead of the laughing suavity of the lord I’d known in Dalyn. I remembered him as the perfect gentleman; smooth, charming, and content to support Bel’s efforts to seduce false-me. I remembered him as the man who’d confronted me in the middle of a dance when he’d recognized my brother as the crown prince of Galhara. The man I hadn’t seen since. He hadn’t been attending the parties much this week, we hadn’t noticed he was here until we’d searched the rooms of the party from Daiesen and seen his crest. I’d assumed he was here for the horses, same as Bel. “You’re the Scythe?” I asked.

He looked at me, then over my shoulder at nothing.

“He won’t answer,” said Quill.

“Take him away,” ordered King Keleman. “We’ll deal with him after the celebration.”

The guards pulled Lucius away. He looked more like himself when moving, even if he was being supported by guards. I would have stared after him until he was out of sight, but King Keleman spoke again.

“King Istvan, we were going to sign the treaty at twilight, as a symbol of change, but I begin to think that we should sign the treaty now, before anything else happens.”

The elven king smiled wryly. “This is agreeable to me. Keep our enemies on their toes.”

Our enemies. Word choice that reinforced their alliance.

Losoki and leanyodi bustled off to fetch and set up tables, pens, and the copies of the treaty. Any semblance of dancing and feasting stopped as everyone gathered to watch as the kings and queens swore vows of peace and signed their names to four copies of the treaty. I stood to the side by Druskin as the Countess and Ilya Terr also signed the treaty.

*

When they were finished, the Countess and I were bustled off to switch places again. Brell gave me a hug when she found me. The leanyodi were furious and relieved and furious some more about being excluded from the plan—it got out quickly that Brell and Karolya had known, and they were included in the disgrace. Three seamstresses and two wash women were summoned to repair the injured skirts while we were undressed, and I was freed from the infernal headdress. Most of the palace believed I was a bodyguard now, and I was tremendously relieved when Druskin delivered guard uniform. The day’s formal colors meant he could borrow a set from the Queen’s guard for me. I loved gowns, but today I felt quite done with them. I was more than glad to trade the headdress for braids.

When I rejoined the Countess’s retinue, the Countess pulled me aside. She looked far more comfortable in the headdress than I had felt. “Zephra,” she began, then hesitated meaningfully. She was speaking to Zare, not Zephra, “I can never thank you enough for the risks you took today.”

“There is no guarantee no one else will make a try today, or in the future,” I replied.

She gave me a look, “That you cannot save the whole world every moment of every day doesn’t strip your sacrifice of value. Say ‘you’re welcome’ and say that you will be my friend. For you will always have a place with me, under any name.”

I smiled at her. “You’re welcome. I would be honored to be your friend.”

*

No one else drew weapons for the remainder of the day. I stayed near the Countess, a respectful distance away from her as she danced, ate, and talked. I was tired, and glad that no one tried to talk or dance with bodyguards. I could brood and look forbidding and that suited me fine. The sun set and lanterns were lit, turning the esplanade and the river between into a field of glowing stars. Everyone gathered again for Ilya Terr and the Countess to perform another ceremony, this one sharing wine and then serving it to their families. Then there was a line dance with both families. It was beautiful, and I was glad beyond measure that the Terrim and Angari were dancing together. I was also anxious for answers, emotionally ragged, and eager for the evening to end. Was the Scythe two people, or was one a decoy? Or was the Scythe still out there and we’d foiled an Imperial plot? I’d met lots of men in the underworld, and it was entirely possible that Lucius Tene knew plenty of the same people in the underworld that I did…but he was friends with Bel Valredes. Bel who had brown eyes. Was it possible that Gentle Belledi Valredes was a notorious assassin as well as a cunning spy?

I watched for Bel, and saw him once or twice as the evening wore on. But he didn’t come close enough for me to talk to him, and I was an on-duty bodyguard now. I saw Quill, Eliah, and Rakov periodically, but couldn’t speak with any of them either.

At last, there was a final dance, and the Countess and her Lord left the party and retired into the palace. The leanyodi, along with Mihalak and some of Ilya’s elves, followed, escorting them back to the Countess’s chambers. Where they were left, with one elf and one man guarding the doors. Everyone else scattered to their own rooms. When I got to my chamber door, I leaned my forehead against it, trying to think past the tiredness to decide what to do next.

“Am I interrupting?”

I startled, then turned to see Quill walking down the hall toward me. Here, mostly alone, the feelings I’d been holding at bay since his fall on the esplanade threatened to overwhelm me. “I’m busy conversing with the door,” I managed, but my voice choked.

Quill saw me waiver and practically ran the last few feet, pulling me into his arms. I clutched at him, burying my face in his shoulder as if he were air and I were fire.

Alive.

Not crushed.

Not drowned.

Alive.

My voice was muffled by his clothes as I said, “I saw you fall from across the esplanade. I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Quill, his breath warm on my ear, his hand making soothing circles on my back, “I didn’t mean to scare you. He was very good, and almost got past me into the palace, throwing him over the ledge was the first thing I thought of.”

I pulled away enough to look up at him, “That was a terrible idea.”

“It actually worked very well for me; I knew we were over the water and if you recall I grew up on a river…” He paused, a grin tipping his lips at the dark expression that had crept up my face. “I’m touched.”

“If you recall,” I snapped, “you were nearly drowning the first time we met.”

“I was also bleeding from numerous places.”

After all that fear, finding him safe—and unruffled—made me want to punch him.

He clearly knew that because he tightened his hold. Which made me extremely aware that I was in his arms. Sharing breath. With my soul exposed, and feelings boiling up everywhere. We were so far away from light flirtation I wasn’t sure anymore how long ago we’d left it behind. I looked down at the face sized smear of gold on his shoulder and fingered the paint. He went very still, watching me as I collected myself. How had I lost my heart and soul to this man so completely? “Quill,” I began, “I…” I can’t live without you. I love you. “When I thought I’d lost you it was like dying only far, far worse.”

“Zare,” he said my name very softly, as if it were other words, and then he lowered his mouth to mine. I felt all the terror and conviction of leaping from a cliff into the ocean. The kiss was gentle, unhurried, but oh so intent. We’d kissed before—a peck of triumph or breath of life before it’d meant anything. But this…How long had this kiss been waiting? It was like the sea after a storm, or the deepest part of a river. I wound my arms around his neck and buried my hands in his hair. Quilleran. Rhydderick. My dearest friend. My deepest love.

I don’t know how long it was before he pulled back, cupping my face in both hands, and resting his forehead against mine. We didn’t speak or move at first. Eventually, he said, “I wasn’t sure how you felt. I was starting to be sure, but I really wasn’t until the past day or so, and that was no time to bring it up.”

“How I felt about you?”

“I have loved you for years. Surely, you’ve noticed. And while you were obviously fond of me…Well, ‘fond’ and,” he kissed me again, “are different things. Especially for us.”

 “I…didn’t know…” I have loved you for years. It was never just light flirtation, was it? “I thought you were off limits, given all the givens.”

“What,” he dropped his voice, and I remembered there were guards down the hall, “different kings? Yes, that could be a bit delicate, what with the tenuous diplomatic relations. Really, though, it just makes major feasts awkward. I think it’s worth the trouble if you do.”

It was an understatement. Both of us had been playing with something we thought we couldn’t have for years. But somewhere along the way the risks became worth it. Our eyes met. His were raw and open with the question in the air. I pulled his head down and whispered against his lips, “I love you. I don’t care about the rest.”

*

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