A sharp pang of affection shot through her. In that moment, she could have flung her arms around him, wept into his neck, thanked him for everything he’d ever done for her.
But she was moved to speechlessness just a moment too long, and in that moment he climbed out the window and was gone.
27
Betrayal
“If you are ever faced with an opportunity to test your skills, and especially to test your limits, do not hesitate. Do not hesitate to take full advantage of the situation. If you ever discover potential for a game, play it. Promise me you’ll do that,” Clevwrith had said. And she had promised, so what could she do but obey?
*
“The beasts come back emptyhanded night after night,” Lady Verrikose expressed her displeasure. “They can’t find a trace of him anywhere.” Ever since the Shadowmaster had sent her hiking up her skirts and high-tailing it out of his alley like a scared little girl, she had had no patience for his antics. Or lack thereof, rather, because he hadn’t made a peep in over a week. But she was through with him, wanting him caught almost more loudly now than the Lord Advisor.
Every night, she rallied the creatures and sent them to scour the city, meditating on her balcony amidst a sea of carefully spread skirts to harness her gift and see the world through their eyes. She searched right along with them, all through the night, unmoving from that balcony until she collapsed in exhaustion at dawn.
All to no avail.
Now she stood like a ghost of herself at one of the throne room windows, leaning against the frame for support as she gazed wearily out over a red-gold, evening-glazed city, anticipating another session of meditation and draining dual-existence. She had grown wan, even requiring her gowns to be taken in.
And it had only been a week. How much more of this could she take?
As much as it takes, she swore, clenching her jaw in vexation. Vexation and determination.
The king shook his head from his throne. “He’s onto us. We showed him our cards. They say he doesn’t make mistakes – and if he does, then he never makes them twice. We may never get close to him again, unfortunately. As much as I hate to say it.”
“But then he wins,” Lady Verrikose seethed, barely keeping her irritation capped to a ladylike level.
The king sighed, rising from his throne to pour himself something from the beverage cart along the edge of the room. Making it two glasses, he brought one to the window, offering it to Lady Verrikose.
Dully, she accepted.
“I am not giving up, Lady Verrikose. But I grow weary of the whole thing. I’ve not the stamina for the obsession.”
She crooked a brow as she sipped from her glass, discovering the contents to be blackberry cordial. Something she might normally have found pleasant, but today it tasted flat. Sour. “Not the stamina?” she posed boldly. “Or perhaps his apprentice was all you ever wanted?”
The king’s gaze veered with dangerous restraint to the side of her carefully-composed face. “That is too brazen a statement, my lady,” he warned.
Grudgingly, she brought her attitude down a notch, swirling her cordial around in her glass. But she didn’t take it back.
“I am not giving up,” Isavor reiterated, choosing to ignore her insolence and start again. “It will remain an open case. We will continue our efforts, continue to recruit talent that might be of use, continue to search for his match.”
Lady Verrikose stopped her swishing abruptly, the cordial rippling to stillness. Rather than frustrating her, the king’s words gave her a most intriguing idea. She turned suddenly to face the king, drawing his gaze from the window. “Sire,” she hazarded with a small, devious smile. “Have you not considered that perhaps we already have found his match? That perhaps she is right under our noses?”
“She?” the king raised his neatly-plucked brows.
“Oh yes,” Lady Verrikose confirmed, her tentative smile becoming full, and keen, and oh so clever. “She.”
Isavor considered her carefully, sipping his cordial. She waited eagerly, if a bit impatiently, to hear his thoughts. “You mean his apprentice. Our very own Despiris,” he concluded.
The noblewoman slowly bobbed her head. She could feel the satisfaction at her own brilliance written all over her face. Her beautiful, clever face. “Precisely.”
“Do you really believe she would turn on her own master? Her own partner? Because I do not. Her position here has been tenuous enough. I do not know that I am willing to disrupt the fragile balance we have managed to achieve. I fear it would just as soon send her running right back to what she knows, remind her where her loyalties lie.”
“If her loyalties do not lie with the King of Cerf Daine, then forgive me, Sire, but she should be thrown in the dungeon,” Lady Verrikose declared bluntly.
Not often startled by her candor, Isavor let it slide once again. “A lot of bloody good it did me the first time,” he replied wryly.
Lady Verrikose’s nostrils flared with displeasure, catching the tart notes of the cordial. “You could at least ask her. Despite her convincing efforts to preserve her solitary front, it is evident to an insightful eye that she likes you, your Majesty.”
Isavor made an expression of skeptical consideration. “Be that as it may, it is a fragile relationship at best. I maintain my opinion that it would take very little to tip the balance, and not in our favor. Can’t you tell she’s restless?”
Lady Verrikose sniffed. “Restless,” she jeered, as if it carried very little clout. “Do you think she ever would have come, if you did not offer something that speaks resonantly to her soul? If you did not have something here that she was lacking? You bear more leverage than you know, Majesty.”
He seemed to give that a little more consideration, but remained unconvinced. “Even so. We have caught her twice. Doesn’t that seem to imply she might not be the Shadowmaster’s equal?”
“Equal is a matter of perspective. Yes, she may have been caught where he has not, but the first time she escaped with terrible ease, and the second she came willingly. If she is not quite as flawless as her master, she is just as capable. Besides, Sire – she knows him. An advantage we will never have at our disposal again. She is the only one in the entire world who knows him.”
Isavor’s gaze grew absent as he stared out the window at the dimming city. “I acknowledge she may indeed be our best chance. But I also maintain I believe her to be our most unlikely.”
“But you will ask her?”
With a sigh, Isavor downed the rest of his cordial. “Yes. I will ask her.”
*
Despiris had finished her last lecture of the day and returned quickly to her chamber to try to get some sleep before going out to rally her little urchin pack.
A knock at her door stopped her just as she reached to loosen the laces of her bodice. Wearily, she resigned herself to another few minutes in the cumbersome gown and went to see who it was.
Outside in the dusky hall, a whole assembly had come calling. Lady Verrikose stood at the front, flanked by the king and Lord Mosscrow. And behind them, the entire fleet of live statues.
“Forgive me, Lady Despiris,” the noblewoman said. “His Majesty wished to have a word, and I have accompanied him given the inappropriate hour.”
Despiris glanced over the woman’s shoulder at the intimidating flock of beasts. “And them?” Not to mention Lord Mosscrow?
Lady Verrikose’s polite smile tightened into a cagey simper, and she avoided a direct response. “May we come in?”
Without a word, Despiris stood aside and let them file in, putting a dull glare to the back of Lady Verrikose’s exquisitely styled head. Finally, when the room was crowded with all of Despiris’s visitors and the creatures were awkwardly vying for wing space, she shut the door and faced them. Attempting halfheartedly to put on a polite air, she ultimately decided she was too tired to make it convincing and waited expectantly for an explanation.
“What can I do for you this evening, your
Majesty?” she asked, since Lady Verrikose had painted him as the main culprit for disturbing her.
“Well,” he began almost nervously, tucking his hands behind his back and straightening his posture to address her. “I was actually hoping…to ask a favor. We have labored to make you comfortable here, granting you clemency and extending every luxury you might desire. We have done well, I hope, seeing promptly to your every request. So I thought I might ask a small favor in return.”
“Other than our erstwhile settled terms of my resignation from a career as a wanted fugitive, you mean,” Despiris said, thinking that if it had been merely the king who wanted to ask something of her, he would have come himself. Whatever he was here about, she would bet it had been inspired by Lady Verrikose.
Pursing his lips, Isavor inclined his head, not bothering to dodge her insightfulness. “Yes. I was hoping we’ve developed enough of a rapport, at this point, to revisit such terms and discuss them as friends.”
“It should come as no surprise nor seem unreasonable to request of you one favor,” Lady Verrikose interjected, confirming her interest in the matter. “Especially given amendments you have already taken the liberty of applying to said terms. Such as leaving the grounds in possession of palace property. For instance…the unsanctioned removal of a certain violin from the music hall. Or pastels from the art room.”
“Tokens which are always returned,” Despiris pointed out coolly.
“Even so.”
The king cleared his throat, reclaiming the conversation from Lady Verrikose. “The instrument and artistic materials are of no consequence. Keep them, if you’d like. The favor I’ve come to ask is indeed a favor.”
Keeping her face neutral, Despiris looked around at those gathered. The king appeared amiable, patient – but the rest of them were on edge. Eager. Hungry. Her gaze came back around to the king. “Then ask.”
He nodded. “You understand… When we first negotiated your surrender – forgive me, your invitation to join us here at the palace – that it was contingent on the understanding that you were, in fact, the Master of the Shadows. Seeing as you are, well, not – and believe me when I say the joke is entirely on us for not confirming who we in fact took into custody, er, our care, that night… I would be remiss not to point out we have been rather gypped of our end of the bargain, and I have come to appeal to your goodwill on the matter, and ask… If you might recognize our plight and spare a morsel of empathy for our position.”
Despiris blinked, working her way through all the flowery avoidance to the as-yet unspecified heart of the issue. “What is it you are asking of me?”
“I am asking if you might consider working alongside us on the issue of bringing in the Master of the Shadows. And if your conscience cannot abide being directly involved… If you might find it acceptable to let slip a mere hint, now and again, to aid our search.”
“Just a hint,” Lady Verrikose echoed reassuringly, but the ravenous gleam in her dark eyes showed the uncaring depth of her own interests.
They want me to reveal secrets of the elusive Shadowmaster? She wasn’t sure if she was amused or offended. “You really expect me to help you catch him?”
“No,” the king admitted. “But you are a spy in the employ of the crown. And it is an open case file at the top of our list. It does fall under your jurisdiction.”
So it did. “I am confused. Is it a favor, or a job?”
“Whatever would allow you to sleep better at night.”
“Spoken as if I sleep at night,” she teased, straight-faced.
Itching to rejoin the persuasion, Lady Verrikose couldn’t restrain herself any longer. “You would not even need volunteer the information. Simply confirm it.”
Despiris’s eyes slid to her. “Such as?”
“We have a suspicion,” the noblewoman mentioned. “A suspicion as to where the Shadowmaster resides. He directed Lord Mosscrow’s attention to the Cobweb District in the past, and I recently had a run-in with him there myself. So we suspect it as his lair, Lady Despiris, but confirmation would go a long way toward relieving these poor creatures of needlessly and tirelessly scouring the entire city. They exhaust themselves so, investigating every clue or hint or signature found elsewhere.” Indicating the beasts behind her with an elegant gesture of presentation, Lady Verrikose assumed a sympathetic expression to appeal to Despiris’s compassion. “Just tell us if that is where he hides.”
Despiris stared back at the noblewoman without revealing even a trace of emotion, trying to decide how to handle such a controversial request. Then she had to suppress the sudden giddy urge to laugh as she realized it didn’t matter. They could have the truth.
“It is,” she confirmed simply. So simply.
Lady Verrkose’s dark eyes flashed, and it seemed she couldn’t contain herself a moment longer. She turned with a tight rustle of skirts to the creatures, pointing a commanding finger toward Despiris’s open window. “Go there. Scour the shadows of the Cob.”
The beasts moved toward Despiris’s window and took flight one by one from the sill, dropping out of sight and only appearing again as silhouettes in the distance.
“You won’t find him,” Despiris murmured into the quiet after the creatures were gone, utterly at ease with her decision. Her three remaining visitors found a small, unperturbed smirk on her face as she gazed out her window after the winged posse. “When he doesn’t wish to be found, not only is he invisible – he doesn’t exist.”
“You could find him, though, couldn’t you?” Lady Verrikose posed dourly, a tinge of accusation coloring her erstwhile pleasant tone. All sign of her reasonable manner had turned to stone now that she had what she wanted.
“Possibly.”
Sniffing, Lady Verrikose swept from the room in a flurry of haughty skirts, as if snubbing something no longer of use to her.
A little awkwardly, the silent Lord Mosscrow bowed and followed.
“Excuse Lady Verrikose,” the king spoke on the noblewoman’s behalf. “She has grown a tinge bitter from a week of sleepless days and nights scouring the city alongside the beasts. The constant employment of her gift – and encumbered by the parallel exhaustion of half a dozen sentries pushed to their limits – is not a restful vigil.”
“Hm,” Despiris offered a noncommittal sound of acknowledgment.
Nodding to himself with a sense of finality, the king said in parting, “Thank you, Lady Despiris, for your assistance. I will let you accustom yourself to the notion, and we will speak officially of your position in the morning. Enjoy your night.” With that he took his leave, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Immediately, Despiris turned to the rustling curtain by the window, shifting as if in a breeze she knew had never passed. She treaded to the window and peered out just in time to spot a dark figure sprinting across the palace grounds far below to become one with the night. The scent of roses and sandalwood lingered in her nostrils – a scent she had caught emanating from the direction of her window halfway through the discussion in her chamber.
Of course Clevwrith had heard every word that had just been exchanged. The Master of the Shadows had been in the room the entire time. Waiting there for her to return from her evening lectures, perhaps, to visit as he had only a night prior, but oh how much more he’d gotten than he’d come for.
No doubt he would wonder precisely what she was doing, revealing his lair to his hunters, but she knew he would conclude correctly – as she only concluded just then, even after she had made the first move.
She was playing games with him.
“…If ever you discover potential for a game, play it,” his words echoed in her mind. Words she had taken to heart. “Promise me you’ll do that.”
She had promised.
And here before her had just been presented the setup for the greatest game of all time, by none other than the very characters that had once been her sworn opponents.
But there was only one way to win, only one trick even
the Master of the Shadows would not dare with the stakes she had set. It was worse than cheating, for in a game where there existed no rules and therefore no way to cheat, there was only one option left:
Betrayal.
Don't miss the thrilling sequel to
Girl of Rooftops and Shadows:
Game of Towers and Treachery
or other books by Harper Alexander:
Throne of Exile
Queen of Nothing
Pillars of the Deep
Things That Go Whoosh in the Night
Things That Crawl Out of the Stardust
Paradise
Wonderland
Girl of Rooftops and Shadows (The Shadow's Apprentice Book 1) Page 24