Blood and Betrayal (The Emperor's Edge Book 5)

by Lindsay Buroker

  Maldynado gawked at him. Books was accusing him of betraying the team? And he’d already voiced the concern? In front of the emperor? It took a gargantuan effort for Maldynado to keep his fingers from clenching into fists, fists that could launch themselves into Books’s nose. Didn’t he know what a tenuous line Maldynado already walked, thanks to his family’s plotting? “You think I had something to do with that?”

  “You were quite insistent on Lady Buckingcrest,” Books said.

  “Because we needed to fly for the boss’s scheme. Lady Buckingcrest the only person I knew who could make that happen.”

  “Amaranthe did not request flight,” Books said. “No sane person would. In fact, we had a lorry at our disposal that would have worked fine.”

  Maldynado wanted to argue. He wanted to explain that the main reason he’d been desperate to keep his distance from Amaranthe that night was because she’d had the look of a hound on the trail of a raccoon. She’d wanted to chat privately with him so she could finagle information on his brother out of him. But if he said so now, everyone would think he had a sly reason for not wanting to talk about Ravido. He hated his cursed brother, that was all, and talking about family history was painful. Why didn’t anyone get that?

  Maldynado looked to Akstyr and Basilard. He couldn’t believe the entire team was suddenly suspicious of him. After all this time together? After so many battles fought and so many near-deaths?

  Akstyr looked… indifferent to the conversation, or maybe tired. Either way, he wasn’t patting Maldynado on the back in a gesture of support.

  At least Basilard met his eyes. A crinkle furrowed his brow, as if he weren’t sure why everyone was turning on Maldynado either. Good, but that might only mean that he wasn’t from the empire and didn’t care what Maldynado’s relatives were up to. Still, Maldynado found himself asking, “Bas, you know I’m honorable and trustworthy, right?”

  I believe you would not intentionally harm the team, Basilard signed.

  Intentionally? So, Basilard just thought Maldynado was inept and had been fooled by some woman?

  One of Akstyr’s surly whatevers wanted to find its way to Maldynado’s lips, but, no, he wasn’t going to let them know how much this upset and rattled him. And he certainly wasn’t going to give anyone another reason to believe him untrustworthy.

  “Fine.” Maldynado plucked his coin out of Books’s fingers and handed it to Yara with a flourish. “The new person fetches Books’s newspaper.” Pretending he had no worries, he gave her his best smile. A sane woman would find it gorgeous and irresistible.

  She scowled at him.

  Chapter 3

  Maldynado considered the hat-filled nook in Madame Mimi’s Evenglory Boutique, lamenting the limited selection and the fact that most of the clothing in the shop featured the previous year’s styles. He plucked at an orange-feathered scarf. It was unforgivable, really. Sunders City wasn’t that small or that far from the capital. He was on the verge of walking out when a black hat, half-hidden on a stand bristling with garishly colored yarn beanies, caught his eye.

  “Huh.” Maldynado plucked it from its unseemly perch. “This might do.”

  This was the hat of a killer, a serious no-nonsense hat for serious no-nonsense people. Black, low, and sleek, it possessed the finest brushed velvet and represented quality craftsmanship. Maybe with this hat, Sespian and everyone else would take him more seriously. It oozed menace and whispered of blood-soaked deeds carried out by dark men of sinister purpose. Yes, this was the hat. He was vaguely surprised Sicarius didn’t already own one. It could use an accent though. Maldynado tapped his lip thoughtfully, then added a large, bright pink plume so that it stuck jauntily out of the side. There. Perfect. He placed the hat upon his head.

  “Can I help you, mister?” the shopkeeper asked.

  Mister? Women usually took one look at Maldynado and assumed the title was “my lord.” He supposed, in his swamp-bathed clothing, he did have the appearance of street riffraff. He’d have to disavow the woman of that notion.

  Turning, Maldynado swept the hat from his head and offered a deep warrior-caste bow. The aging female shopkeeper wore so much lip paint and rouge that he was surprised her face hadn’t fallen off under the weight. That didn’t keep him from offering his brightest smile.

  “Actually, my lady,” Maldynado said, granting her the title, though he knew from the shop’s name that she wasn’t warrior-caste, “I may be able to help you. I see that, despite your prominent location on the River Walk, I’m your only customer.”

  “It’s normally busier than this, but the hour grows late.”

  Now that Maldynado faced her, she gave him a more appraising look, perhaps noting the quality of the tailor-made garments beneath the grime of the road—and far too many crashes for one week.

  Maldynado assumed a pose that showed off the breadth of chest. “As busy as you’d like? My siblings and I were robbed by riverboat pirates, and I’m in dire need of clothing that will hold us until we return to our estate in the capital.”

  She’d been taking note of his physique while he spoke, though she frowned when he mentioned needing free clothing.

  “This, of course, would be a hardship for you, but in exchange for your generosity, I’d be willing to talk up your shop in my circles. Many of my comrades travel downriver to Markworth in the spring, and I could suggest they stop here, the wonderful boutique where I received exquisite service.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

  “I… ”

  It wasn’t much of an offer, but she seemed flustered beneath his gaze. Good. The middle-aged ones tended to be more wise to the ways of men and could represent more of a challenge than the younger ladies, but all that war paint had to be hiding a few features that made men scarce. Judging by the flush of her cheeks and the number of appraising glances she stole when he wasn’t looking, she appreciated his attention. A hint of calculation entered her eyes, though, and he started to grow concerned.

  “You’re offering free advertising, you say?” she asked.

  “Essentially.”

  “I must see how you’d look in my store’s clothing. Naturally you’d need to be a good representative if your recommendation were to leave an impression on people.”

  Maldynado wanted to snort and proclaim that he looked good in any store’s clothing, but she was already bustling about, assembling an outfit. She laid a stack of garments in his arms and smiled. Maldynado waited for her to direct him to a fitting room. She didn’t.

  “Do you have a changing area?” Maldynado asked.

  “Alas, it’s closed for repairs.” Her smiled deepened.

  Ah, so she wanted a show. Maldynado shrugged, set the clothes down, and unbuttoned his shirt. He’d undressed for far less noble purposes. Besides, when a man had a flawless physique, he really owed it to the world to share it in all its glory. While he changed, he glanced at the front door a few times, hoping Sergeant Yara would wander in. She’d chosen to wait on the street—keep watch, she’d said—but maybe she’d grow bored and check on him.

  The shopkeeper assisted Maldynado in putting on her clothing, doing more touching than the act required. She also made him try on five different ensembles before finding one that he’d “represent well.” Maybe, for enduring this, he’d barter for two outfits for everyone on the team.

  A half hour later, the dressing and shopping were done. Unfortunately, Yara never came in. Maldynado was on his way to the door when the shopkeeper glided to a stop in front of him with a large stack of business cards in her hand.

  “Here you are, my lord.” She stuck them in his pocket. Pockets, actually, as the sizable stack required dividing. “You promise you’ll hand them out to those in your circle, right?” She tilted her head back, gazing into his eyes with her own imploring ones.

  A twinge of guilt ran through him, and, he knew as soon as he nodded his head that he’d actually have to do it. A fib now and then was one thing, but a promise? He couldn’t break that,
even if the “circle” he ran in now wasn’t terribly likely to shop on the River Walk at Sunders City.

  When Maldynado stepped outside, his arms laden with bags, the setting sun gleamed orange on the water. Despite the reluctant promise he’d given, he felt good. The sexy new hat perched atop his wavy curls, and his dirty garments had been replaced by practical travel wear: a leather duster, suede shirt a touch snug across the chest so that it emphasized his musculature, and fitted trousers that emphasized… other things. If Yara still had that quarter-ranmya coin, he might arrange to accidently bump it from her fingers, so he could take a while picking it up in front of her.

  But where was Yara? He searched for her amongst the handful of pedestrians strolling down the shop-lined cobblestone street. The area wasn’t as busy as he remembered from his youth, though the chill in the air might explain that. A nippy breeze gusted down the river, hinting of rain, or maybe snow. Smoke billowed from a stack on a steamboat chugging upstream, making Maldynado think of warming his hands by a fire. A fire in a suite in a fine inn preferably, but he supposed he needed to return soon with the clothing if he didn’t want Sespian to grow weary of waiting and go off on his own.

  Maldynado finally spotted Yara in an alcove of a brick building, her back to the wall as she alternately watched the street and read a newspaper. Ah, too bad. She must have spent the coin.

  “Good evening, my lady,” Maldynado drawled as he approached. “Enjoying the view?” He extended a hand toward the water.

  “No, you useless fop.” Yara thrust the front page of the newspaper out for his perusal.

  With his arms full of bags, Maldynado couldn’t easily grab it, but he leaned closer to read the headline in the fading light. “Emperor Sespian Savarsin Missing. Huh, that’s a newspaper from the capital.” In fact, it was The Gazette, the paper Deret Mancrest’s family owned. “They couldn’t possibly have gotten the news about the kidnapping yet.” Unless someone had known Sespian wouldn’t be coming back from his train trip. Deret couldn’t be involved with the plotters, could he?

  “Keep reading,” Yara said.

  “Due to our missing emperor, as well as last week’s deaths of prominent businessmen and women, a military contingent from Fort Urgot has been deployed to occupy the capital and the Imperial Barracks. These forces will protect the citizens and ensure peace while Emperor Sespian is sought.”

  “Ensure peace.” Yara snorted. “More likely they want troops loyal to your brother to be in place when they decide the emperor is no longer missing but dead.”

  “I wish people would stop calling Ravido my brother, as if I’m responsible for his actions.” A half mile downriver, soldiers were still stationed atop the bridge, stopping people as they passed. On the way across, Maldynado hadn’t been delayed long enough to learn why the men were on guard—dropping the Marblecrest name had earned him and Yara prompt passage into the city—but now he understood. Garrisons all over the empire would be alert after an announcement of a missing emperor.

  “Yes,” Yara said, “it’s clear you don’t want to be held responsible for anything. I’m surprised you volunteered for something as crucial as shopping.”

  “People who take responsibility get blamed when things go wrong. No responsibility, no blaming. That’s how this old chap prefers it.”

  Yara folded the paper and stepped away from the wall. “You’ll never get your statue.”

  “What? Why?”

  She had already turned her back and was striding down the street. Maldynado hustled to catch up with her, his shopping bags tangling with his legs.

  “I’m a good fighter, and I’ve helped the boss out a lot. She’s going to be all right. She’s probably escaped already and is figuring out how to deal with all this.” Maldynado waved at the newspaper tucked under Yara’s arm. “She’ll come up with a plan to get Sespian back to the Barracks and to stop Forge for good. I’m trustworthy and loyal, despite what the others think right now, and I’ll be with her, ready to fight. I’m behind her until the end.”

  “They don’t make statues of people who walk behind others. You have to walk out in front.” With those words, Yara increased her pace and pulled ahead, as if to let him know she was done with the conversation. And him.

  Maldynado caught himself slowing down. She’d been derisive, and his first thought was to brush off her words, but he grudgingly admitted there might be something to them.

  On her way by, Yara brushed past a pair of pretty young women, giggling and pointing in windows as they strolled down the sidewalk. They noticed Maldynado, exchanged whispers, and one gave him an inviting smile. The idea of accepting that invitation teased his thoughts. It’d be nice to forget Yara, the emperor, and the suspicions of the team for a night. But he kept walking. There was too much at stake, including Sicarius’s threat.

  Sighing, Maldynado passed the pair with no more than a nod. When the inviting woman’s smile turned into a disappointed pout, he almost changed his mind. He hated to be the cause of feminine dismay.

  While he gazed back with those second thoughts, something else drew his eye. Across the street another pair of women had walked out of a single-story antique shop bestowed with mildew-covered shingles and a multi-paned window so old one would have to press one’s nose to the glass to see any of the wares inside. The structure seemed out of place on the street of sleek, modern buildings that overlooked the river, but that wasn’t what captured Maldynado’s attention. One of the women, the shopkeeper perhaps, withdrew a keychain and bent to lock the door. The second woman… was one of Maldynado’s cousins.

  If he’d taken the time to think about it, he would have remembered that he had kin in Sunders City, but seeing her surprised him. Cousin Lita was his age and, with thick brown curls that tumbled about her shoulders, possessed the family good looks. She and her two brothers had come up to stay on the main Marblecrest estate a couple of summers when their parents had been traveling.

  Maybe he should stop, say hello, and try to inveigle gossip out of her. When the emperor had suggested Maldynado might be a source of information, he’d balked at the idea of betraying his family, but that had been before he knew everyone was suspicious of him. Maybe a few choice tidbits about Ravido would placate Sespian and the others. Lita had always been a gossip and a chatterbox, so, if anyone had choice tidbits on the family, it’d be her. Of course, if Maldynado did extract and share crucial details, he’d have to live knowing he’d turned snitch on his kin. That didn’t sit well with him.

  Before he’d decided whether to cross the street or not, Lita’s head turned in his direction. Her hazel eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

  Maldynado lifted a shopping-bag-laden arm in a wave. After waiting for a group of young women to cycle past on elaborate tricycles burdened by baskets bulging with purchases, Maldynado crossed the street and bowed to the two ladies. Lita held a yellowing ivory box in her hands.

  “Good evening, Lita, and… ” He gave his cousin a chaste smile, then offered the shopkeeper a sexier one. Though she was an older woman dressed in unrevealing clothing more appropriate to a dusty library basement than River Walk Street, Maldynado had long ago learned to be gracious to all ladies. Some of them were like rose buds, simply needing a little sun and encouragement to blossom into attractive flowers. And, those who weren’t like that… tended to know others who were.

  “Ms. Pealovetch.” The woman looked him up and down, sniffed once, and walked away.

  Then again, some women were simply grumps who weren’t worth the effort.

  “Maldynado!” Lita blurted. “I’m surprised to see you here.” She eyed his bags. “Well, not surprised to see you shopping, but surprised to learn you’re in Sunders City. Did you take your father up on his offer?” She must have seen his brow furrow, for she added, “Or, if you’ve been out of town, maybe you haven’t seen him lately? Did you know about his offer?”

  “I haven’t talked to Father in over a year. Is there something I should know?” Maldyn
ado couldn’t ask for a better lead-in to family gossip.

  “He’s been looking for you. Didn’t you hear? He wants to invite you back into the family.”

  “He what? I mean, he was rather adamant that I’m a worthless leech who doesn’t deserve any portion of the family lands or money.”

  “Yes, Uncle Brodis has always seemed… tough, but I heard he was willing to forgive you for past transgressions if you’d return home and help the family with, oh, I’m not sure what it was. A business endeavor perhaps? Your sister-in-law, Mari, has grown quite entrepreneurial of late.”

  “Has she?” Since Mari was Ravido’s wife, Maldynado tucked the detail away for later examination. The news about his father interested him the most. Could his parents want help for Ravido? Were Father and Mother supporting his throne-usurping enterprise? Maybe Maldynado’s kin had learned that he’d gone from unambitious duelist to veteran warrior in the last year. Maybe Ravido wanted Maldynado on his team. Though it seemed unlikely. All of Maldynado’s experience suggested that, even if he single-handedly turned back a Kendorian invasion in front of all of his kin, they still wouldn’t believe him more than a dandy.

  Lita released her box with one hand and gripped his arm. “I do hope you’ll consider it, Mal. I know your parents are strict and hard to love, but it’s been fifteen years since Tia… passed on. Your mother has forgiven you, and your father… I’m not sure he’ll ever forgive you, but I think he forgets sometimes.”

  Mother had forgiven him? Since when? Maldynado found that news harder to believe than the rest of it, and, for the first time, he eyed Lita with suspicion. Even if she did live in Sunders City, what were the odds that they’d randomly run into each other here, in a town of fifty thousand?

  Perhaps noting his suspicious mien, Lita shrugged and said, “Is it so hard to believe? They can’t hate you forever. Old wounds may always ache in bad weather, but sometimes you forget there was a time when you didn’t have them, and you lose your bitterness over the cause. The dull ache becomes a part of your life.”