“What is it?” Kaden whispered.
“Nothing,” I answered, and it probably was. The drivers threw the tarps back, and a sickening thud hit my chest. Crates. Before the Komizar even pried one open, I knew what was inside. He pushed aside straw, pulling bottles from it and handing them out to the governors. He walked over to Kaden. “And I can’t forget the Assassin, can I? Enjoy, my brother.” He turned to look at me. “Why so pale, Princess? You don’t enjoy the vintage of your own vineyards? I can assure you, the governors love it.”
It was the revered Canjovese of the Morrighese vineyards.
Apparently raiding trading caravans was among the Komizar’s many talents. This was how he secured his position. Procuring luxuries for his Council that only he seemed able to obtain: bottles of expensive wine for his governors that the Lesser Kingdoms paid great sums for, gifts of war booty for servants, fresh meat donated to the hungry.
But a full stomach was a full stomach. How could I argue with that? And my own father gave gifts to his cabinet, though he didn’t raid caravans to get them. How many Morrighese drivers had died at the hands of raiders so the Komizar could indulge his governors? What else did they steal, and who did they kill to get it? The death list seemed to grow and grow.
He gave the Council free rein to rummage through the other crates in the remaining wagons and split it up among them, and then walked back over to us. He threw a small pouch to Kaden that jingled when it landed in his palm.
“Take her to the jehendra and get her some suitable clothes.”
I looked at the Komizar suspiciously.
His brows rose innocently, and he raked his long dark locks from his face. He looked like a boy of seventeen instead of a man nearly thirty. A Dragon of many faces. And how well he wore them. “Don’t worry, Princess,” he said. “Just a gift from me to you.”
Then why did it create a breath-sucking hollow in my stomach? Why the turnaround from a sack dress to a gift of new clothing? He always seemed to be a step ahead of me, knowing just how to push me off-kilter. Gifts always came with a price.
A soldier brought him his horse as a whole squad waited for him at the gate. He took the reins, called his good-byes, then added, “Kaden, you’re the Keep in my absence. Walk with me to the gate. I have a few things to tell you.”
I watched them walk away, the Komizar’s arm slung over Kaden’s shoulder, their heads nodding, conspiring. A frightening shiver skipped through me as if I were seeing ghosts. They could be my own brothers, Regan and Bryn, walking through the halls of Civica confiding a secret. The small wedge I had planted was already disappearing. They had a history together. Loyalty. The Komizar called him brother, as if they really were. I knew, even minutes ago when I had called Kaden an ally, that he wasn’t—not as long as Venda came first.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
KADEN
“She speaks the language well. How is that possible?”
He hadn’t shown his surprise last night when she spoke. He wouldn’t. Surprise in front of the Council wasn’t his way. In truth, I think he was rarely surprised by anything, but I heard it in his voice now. It was strange that I should feel a sense of pride. Just as I had underestimated Lia when I began tracking her, he had underestimated her too. Most royals barely knew where Venda was, much less spoke the tongue.
“She’s gifted at languages,” I explained, “and our time crossing the Cam Lanteux gave her plenty of opportunity to study ours.”
He sighed dramatically. “Another gift? The princess is full of them—though I haven’t seen evidence of the one you claim yet. I wouldn’t call that dizzy-eyed performance last night anything but a sham. Though maybe a useful one.”
He left his last thought hanging in the air. A sham, his preference, because that he could control.
“I’ll be gone a few weeks. No more. But if Tierny still hasn’t shown by the time I get back, it doesn’t bode well for him. It will be your turn to ride with a show of force and see if we have a challenger who needs to be brought into the fold. We can’t have renegade governors when so much is at stake. Especially with the critical supplies we need coming from Arleston.”
“Tierny is always late.”
“Late or not, when I return, you go. And without her. Remember what I said. We aren’t cocks guarding hens. We are the Rahtan.”
The Rahtan. I was eleven the first time I repeated those words back to him. Younger even than Eben. By then, I had been under his protection for a year. He’d made sure I got double portions of food. At that point, my eyes were no longer sunken, the hollows in my cheeks had filled out, and meat was back on my scarred ribs. I had said the words with all the pride I heard in his voice now. We are the Rahtan, the united brothers, dauntless and enduring. From that moment, he had begun grooming me to become the next Assassin. I was awed and grateful for the trust he gave me.
My loyalty to him was probably greater than anyone’s. He had slaughtered many to save my skinny bones. I owed him everything. He was the Assassin back then. Three Assassins had come and gone since, none of them surviving more than a few years. At the age of fifteen, I was the youngest ever to claim the position. That was four years ago.
How much blood do you have on your hands, Kaden? How many people have you killed? I couldn’t answer Lia because I didn’t know the numbers. I knew only gurgled breaths. The half gasps that came too late. The hands that were too slow to draw the weapon poised at their side. I knew the startled eyes that took a piece of me with them before they closed. They had grown into one faceless blur. All I knew was that they were traitors who had infiltrated other kingdoms to escape justice, or officers at outposts, whose attacks were relentless and brutal, and who hunted down families like Eben’s that tried to settle in the Cam Lanteux. But the work of an Assassin could only instill fear in the enemy, and perhaps slow the attacks. A marching army could stop them for good.
The Komizar stopped several yards short of the gate. “We can’t let weakness take hold, and that brings me to my next matter,” he said. “Three soldiers ran. We found them hiding with a camp of vagabonds. The vagabonds were dealt with for sheltering them, but the soldiers were brought back.”
“Vagabonds? Which ones?”
“In the forests north of Reux Lau.”
I took an easier breath. I shouldn’t have been relieved that any vagabonds had perished, but I had a special fondness for Dihara and her clan. I knew Dihara was too smart to harbor traitors. Most vagabonds were. News of the harsh consequences meted out to a few traveled like wind through vagabond camps.
He told me the execution would be at the third bell in front of comrade soldiers, and I was to call the count.
Though a chievdar carried out the executions and staking, the Komizar or the Keep always gave the last interrogation, always called to the troops who witnessed for a yea or nay, always gave the final instruction for them to lay their heads on the block. Always gave the final nod. The count, it was called, the final steps that dealt justice.
“But remember, don’t kill them too quickly. It goes a long way toward discouraging similar actions. Make sure they suffer. You’ll take care of that, right, brother?”
I looked at him. Nodded. I always met my duty.
He gave me a hearty hug and walked away, but after only a few steps, he paused again and turned. “Oh, and make sure you feed the emissary. I think Ulrix will conveniently forget, and I don’t want to return to a corpse. I’m not done with our royal ambassador. Yet.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I spotted Griz leading a horse out of the stable. With Kaden’s and the Komizar’s backs still to me, I hurried over to intercept him. He saw me coming and stopped, his ever-present scowl receding.
“May I speak to you?” I asked. “Privately.”
He looked to each side. “We’re as alone as we’re going to get.”
I had no time for diplomacy. “Are you a spy?” I asked bluntly.
He stepped forward, his chin tucked to his chest. “No mo
re talk of that,” he grumbled low. His eyes darted to nearby governors talking in groups of three or four. “I did you a favor, girl. You saved my life and that of my comrades. I pay my debts. We’re even now.”
“I don’t believe that’s all it was, Griz. I saw your face. You cared.”
“Don’t make it out to be more than it was.”
“But I still need your help.”
“We’re done, Princess. Do you understand that?”
But we couldn’t be done. I still needed more help. “I could reveal to them all that you speak fluent Morrighese,” I threatened. I was desperate for his help, even if I had to blackmail him to get it.
“And if you did that, you’d be condemning my whole family to death. Thirty-six of them. Brothers, sisters, cousins, their children. More than that whole company of men you watched die. Is that what you want?”
Thirty-six. I searched his scarred face and saw fear, true and real. I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “That’s not what I want.” I felt my hopes slump with another door closed. “Your secret is safe.”
“And yours is as well.”
At least I had confirmation that he knew Rafe’s true identity. I was grateful that Griz had covered for him, but we needed so much more.
I opened my mouth to ask for one last bit of information, but he turned brusquely, his elbow deliberately catching my ribs. I doubled over, falling to one knee. He leaned down, a snarl on his face, but his voice was low and even. “We’re being watched,” he whispered. “Snap back at me.”
“You stupid oaf!” I yelled. “Watch where you’re going!”
“That’s right,” he whispered. “One bit of advice I can give you. You’d be wise to friend Aster. The urchin knows every crevice of the Sanctum as well as any mouse.” He straightened and glared down at me. “Then stay out of my way!” he bellowed as he stormed away. A group of nearby governors laughed.
I glanced across the yard and saw it was Kaden who was watching us.
He walked over and asked what Griz had wanted. “Nothing,” I answered. “He was only grunting and drooling over the haul of goods like everyone else.”
“With good reason,” Kaden answered. “It might be the last for a long while. Winter is near.”
He made it sound like a door slamming shut. In Civica there wasn’t a big difference between winter and summer, a few degrees, stronger winds, a heavier cloak, and rain. But it wasn’t enough to stop commerce or traffic. And by my calculations, winter was still at least two months off. We were only just entering autumn, the last bloom of summer. Surely winter couldn’t come any earlier to Venda than it did to Civica. But I felt the chill in the air, the tired glint of sun, already different from yesterday. Winter is near. Enough doors were already closed to me—I couldn’t let this one shut too.
* * *
I followed Kaden through the square to a gate that led out of the Sanctum. He was taking me to the jehendra to get suitable clothes, as the Komizar had ordered. I stayed close to him, fearing the people outside the gates as much as those within. It was a mixed blessing to have the Komizar gone. It gave me breathing room—little passed his notice—but it also meant he was out of my reach. I wanted to ask Kaden about Rafe, where he was and how he had fared through the night, but I knew that would only make him doubt my pronouncement that I wanted nothing to do with the emissary, and if Kaden was suspicious, the Komizar would be too. I prayed the guards hadn’t shown Rafe more of their distaste for Dalbreck swine. Maybe after last night’s dinner and the Komizar’s frequent attentions toward him, they would show more restraint.
We walked side by side, but I noticed an occasional limp in Kaden’s gait. “I’m sorry about the leg,” I said.
“As you said, there are no rules when it comes to survival. Your brothers taught you well.”
I swallowed the tender knot in my throat. “Yes, they did.”
“They taught you to throw the knife too?”
I had nearly forgotten about Finch and my near bull’s-eye on his chest. Kaden obviously hadn’t. “My brothers taught me a lot of things. Mostly just by being with them, watching, and absorbing.”
“What else have you absorbed?”
“I guess you’ll have to find out.”
“I’m not sure my shins want to know.”
I grinned. “I think your shins are safe for now.”
He cleared his throat. “I apologize for my tone with you this morning. I know I was—”
“Arrogant? Condescending? Dismissive?”
He nodded. “But you know I don’t feel that way about you. It’s a language that’s become part of me after so many years. Especially now that I’m back here. I—”
“Why? Are you ever going to tell me why you hate royals so? When you haven’t ever known any but me?”
“I’ve known nobility, if not royalty. There isn’t much difference.”
“Of course you have,” I mocked. “An assassin in court rubbing elbows with lords and ladies happens every day. Name names. Just one noble that you’ve met.”
“This way,” he said, grabbing my arm to lead me down an alleyway, using our sudden turn as a way to avoid my question. I suspected his answer was that he had known none, but he didn’t want to admit it. He hated royals because all Vendans did. They were expected to. Especially certain powerful Vendans.
“Just so you know, Kaden, your revered leader plans to kill me. He told me so.”
Kaden shook his head and held up the bag of coins the Komizar had tossed to him as if it were evidence to the contrary. “He’s not going to kill you.”
“Perhaps he just wants me well dressed when I’m hanging from the end of a rope.”
“The Komizar doesn’t hang people. He beheads them.”
“Oh, well. That’s a relief. Thank you for enlightening me.”
“He’s not going to kill you, Lia,” he repeated. “Unless you do something stupid.” He stopped and grabbed my arm. “You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?” Passersby stopped and watched us. I realized they all recognized the Assassin. They knew who he was and gave him respectful distance.
I studied Kaden. Stupid was all a matter of perspective. “I’m only doing what you asked. Following your lead and trying to convince others of my gift.”
He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “Use your displays sparingly, Lia, and never hold it over the Komizar’s head like you did with Griz and Finch. You’ll feel the backlash if you do. Let him use your gift as he sees fit.”
“Help him perpetrate a sham, you mean?”
“And I’ll repeat your own words: There are no rules when it comes to survival.”
“What if it’s not a sham?”
His expression darkened. I realized that in all our time across the Cam Lanteux, he had never once conceded that I might really have a gift, not even when I warned him about the bison stampede. Strangely, he used rumor of my gift as an excuse to keep me alive, without admitting any belief in it himself.
“Just do as he asks,” Kaden finally said.
I offered a grudging nod, and we continued walking. It was almost as if he had a deeper regard for the gift than Griz and Finch. Was it the potential power it held that neither he nor the Komizar could control? Dihara would laugh at the idea of using the gift as the Komizar saw fit. She had balked when I suggested it. The gift cannot be summoned, it is just that, a gift, a delicate way of knowing, a way as old as the universe itself. A small sigh escaped my lips. Delicate. Oh how I wish it were a heavy spiked mace that I could wield instead.
Kaden went on to explain that the Komizar’s threats were only his way of establishing boundaries and power with me. A little respect from me could go a long way.
“And his bag of coin is a bribe? Like the stolen wine he gives to the governors? Is he trying to buy my respect?”
Kaden looked sideways at me. “The Komizar has no need to buy anything. You should know that by now.”
“The clothes I have on are just fine. I ra
ther like your shirt and trousers.”
“As do I, and my wardrobe isn’t limitless. Besides, it swims on you, and if the Komizar wants you to have new clothes, you’ll have new clothes. You don’t want to insult his generosity. You said you wanted to understand my world. The jehendra will open your eyes to more of it.”
Generosity? I tried to keep from choking. But Kaden had a certain blindness when it came to the Komizar. Or maybe he simply had the same unrealistic hope that Rafe had in his army of four—that together, against all odds, they could make everything right that was wrong in their world.
I trudged along next to him, swallowing my skepticism of the Komizar’s generosity because understanding Kaden’s world, which included the jehendra, just might help me get out of this godforsaken place. I probed about other things. “He said you were the Keep in his absence. What does that mean?”
“Not much. If a decision must be made while he’s gone, it falls to me.”
“That sounds like an important job.”
“Not usually. The Komizar keeps a tight rein on affairs that concern Venda. But sometimes a quarterlord can’t settle a dispute or a patrol has to be sent out.”
“You can give orders to raise the bridge?”
“Only if necessary. And it won’t be necessary.” The Vendan loyalty was thick in his tone.
We walked silently, and I took in his city, its hum filling my ears. It was the sound of thousands of people pressed too close, a rising rumble of tasks that were laced with urgency. Eyes raked over us from doorways and patched-together hovels. I felt the gazes on our backs long after we passed. I was sure they somehow knew I was an outsider. When the alley narrowed, Vendans traveling in the opposite direction had to squeeze past us, and the bones on their belts clattered against the stone walls. People seemed to crowd every inch of this endless city. The stories that they bred like rabbits didn’t seem far-fetched.
The Heart of Betrayal Page 8