by Claire Luana
“Callidus and Thom. Pike and his men. The Imbrises. An Aprican legionnaire. And two hundred of Ansel’s mercenaries on six ships.”
Killian whistled softly. “You collect dangerous men like candy, Miss Confectioner. The infused bread cost me three-quarters of my forces. If we free the city from its compulsion, I’ll have four hundred fighting men, including a number of nobles who have significant resources.”
“I think the other Guilds would come around, too,” Wren said, ignoring Killian’s strange comment.
“If we coordinate our attack from inside and outside the city, we just might be able to get to the emperor. If we can kill him, the Apricans’ hold on Alesia will crumble,” Killian said.
“It’s possible.” Ansel nodded.
Hope surged through Wren. With this unholy alliance, they just might manage to take back their city.
Chapter 35
Wren’s soaring hope fell like a bad soufflé as they began discussing the logistics of getting everyone into the city safely.
“There are four tunnels under the city,” Killian explained, “leading from various points on the wall inside. Each of the members of the royal family has a—”
“Key,” Wren said, rubbing her temples. She’d known she would have to tell Lucas. She had meant to. But it didn’t mean she relished the thought. “The tunnels are compromised. The Apricans have a key.”
Killian raised an eyebrow. “How?”
“It’s a long story,” Wren said. “And Willings is working for them, so I think it’s safe to say he informed them of the location of any tunnels they didn’t know of.”
Killian leaned back stiffly, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Wren played it over in her head. So, Lucas...funny story...you know how an invading force captured the city and murdered most of your family? Turns out I gave them the key to get in... She let out a pained sigh. Would he ever forgive her? If she were him, she wouldn’t forgive her.
“Is there another way in?” Ansel asked.
Killian and Violena exchanged a glance.
The elegant woman wrinkled her nose but nodded.
“There is,” Killian said. “Leads from the port directly to the palace. The Imbris clan wanted to be able to make a quick exit at any time. There are multiple tunnels in and out of the city and the palace. It’s how the Falconers were moving around before.”
“Do you think the tunnels might be compromised?” Wren asked.
“I’m certain they are. But there are likely no more than a few guards you’d have to dispatch, versus trying to get past the guards at the port, and then navigate the entire city.”
“It sounds preferable,” Ansel admitted.
“There’s just one thing you should know,” Killian said. “They don’t smell very good.”
“When do we leave?” Wren sprang to her feet. Maybe she wouldn’t need to tell Lucas right away after all.
“We ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Ansel said, standing and taking her shoulders gently in his hands. “Remember that wanted poster? There’s no need for ya to risk yourself. Killian can show me the way.”
“But—” Wren protested.
“But nothin,’ Wren. It’s an unnecessary risk.” This close, Ansel smelled of spice and leather, so different from Lucas’s fresh scent. His hands felt hot on her flesh, strong and real.
She looked down, warring with herself. She didn’t like the idea of letting Ansel leave here alone. True, he hadn’t betrayed her, but Ansel had always had a way of looking out for himself. And hadn’t he said in the park that if things went sideways, he’d find his way to the door? But their plan was coming together. There was gold to be had. She would need to trust him, one way or another, before this was all done.
“Wren?” He took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up so she was looking into his clear blue eyes. By the Beekeeper, the man had grown up well. Those copper curls, the rugged planes of his face. He was vital and devastating and so very Ansel. “Will ya see sense?”
“Fine,” she said, and it took all her willpower to wrench her gaze from his. “Just bring them back safely.”
Lucas was not pleased when Ansel came back alone. He didn’t trust that man—too sure, too cocky. He reminded him of Hale in a way. And though he had come to tolerate Hale, respect him even, he’d never liked him.
But Ansel promised they’d found the Falconer and a safe place to lie low, where Wren was waiting for them. And they’d get nowhere if they didn’t take some risks. This whole flaming plan was a risk.
“Are you sure we can trust him?” Trick whispered as they waited for a rowboat to be lowered into the dark water.
“Absolutely not,” Lucas murmured back.
“He and Wren go way back,” Thom said, his hand securely clasped in Trick’s. Those two had been inseparable as peanut butter and jelly since the Imbrises had been rescued from the Aprican vessel. “He wouldn’t do anything to put her at risk.”
“It’s not Wren I’m worried about,” Trick said, mirroring Lucas’s thoughts.
The man was a mercenary. Who was to say what he was willing to do? Lucas had seen the way Ansel looked at Wren—he watched her like a beggar eyes a feast though a window. Would the man be willing to eliminate a rival if it meant securing what he wanted?
“Well, I think he’s handsome,” Ella said, her bright eyes watching Ansel’s bunching muscles as he finished lowering the rowboat.
“Ready?” Ansel called, a brash grin on his face. He held out a hand to Ella. “Ladies first.”
Ella glided forward, placing her hand in his.
“If Ella likes him, we’re in even more trouble than I thought,” Trick whispered.
Lucas couldn’t help but agree.
The night was dark and quiet, the oars cutting quiet slices through the black water. They all seemed to hold their breaths as they neared shore. Ansel had explained that there were tunnels beneath the city that were known to the Falconer. No—to Killian. In a way, Lucas wasn’t surprised that the man was alive. He was like a cockroach—impossible to kill. And if Killian was anything, he was cunning and ruthless. Killian was a bastard, but he was their bastard. He was a welcome ally right about now.
Lucas coughed as Ansel drew near the tunnel that would take them under the city. He threw his arm over his nose, breathing into the crook of his elbow. “What is that smell?” he asked, his words muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
“Oh, did I not mention?” Ansel said. “These here are the sewer tunnels.”
Thom groaned audibly next to him as they all regarded the sewer tunnel that yawned over them with fetid breath.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ella said. “We’re supposed to go...in that?”
For once, Lucas shared Ella’s opinion.
“Sorry, princess,” Ansel said. “The outlet opens into a bunch of tunnels. Dry tunnels. It’s the best way. Unless ya fancy getting’ captured by the Apricans.”
Ella let out a little moan. “I fancy waking up in my bed and realizing this was all a horrible dream.”
Lucas had to give it to her. That did sound nice.
“Why can’t we use our keys and go through one of the dry, non-smelly tunnels?” Ella pouted.
Ansel shrugged. “Wren said they’re compromised.”
“Compromised?” Lucas frowned. “That would have meant they got one of the keys.” Perhaps they had taken them off the bodies of some of his other family members. But how had the Apricans discovered what the keys opened? A chilling thought struck Lucas. “Thom, does Wren still have her key?” He still wanted her to be able to flee the city if things went wrong.
Thom shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his curly hair. “Um, you’ll have to ask her.”
“What’s the hold up?” a voice hissed out of the dark behind them. Pike. There were two other rowboats of people lined up to enter this hellhole. Pike, Callidus, Olivia, and her new boyfriend, Dash—Lucas wasn’t sure where that fellow had come from—and some of
Pike’s and Ansel’s men. Griff and the rest of the men and sailors would shelter behind Dash Island, waiting for the word.
Ansel rowed forward into the gloom. The smell was horrendous.
Trick pulled a torch out of their pack and struck a flint against the wall, lighting it. The tunnels were low, bowing over them in an archway formed of slick stone and cobwebs.
Ella had her eyes closed and the hood of her cloak up. She held the fabric before her nose, breathing through it.
The low path through the water opened into a tall junction between several tunnels. Lucas looked at the map Killian had drawn for Ansel. “There.” He pointed towards the left junction. “It’s that tunnel.”
While the paths of sludgy water continued into the depths of the sewer, the tunnels were wide enough here for a person to walk on the small ledges that bordered the channels. Ansel rowed the boat into a little alcove with a ladder against the wall.
“Looks like these paths were made for the workers that would be maintaining these tunnels,” Lucas said.
“Worst job ever,” Trick said.
“Agreed,” Thom said.
Trick went first, helping Ella and Thom out of the boat onto the ledge. Ansel tied off the rowboat on the ladder as Lucas stepped out himself, his long legs carrying him across easily. Ansel came last. They retreated farther into the sewers while the others tied off and stepped out of their boats. It was a difficult thing, trying on the one hand not to fall in the brackish water while on the other not to touch the slimy wall that hugged them.
“I don’t know about you, but I’d just as soon get out of the Piscator’s armpit and back up to solid ground,” Pike said, appearing behind them.
“Agreed.”
“Let’s move.” Lucas and Ansel spoke at the same time. They looked at each other, seeming to fight a silent battle for alpha status. Finally, Ansel inclined his head stiffly. “You’re the prince. Lead the way.”
Wren’s relief was strong as hundred-proof whiskey when she saw Lucas walk through Violena’s front door. She ran and threw herself against him, burying her face in his damp cloak as he rocked her back and forth.
“Happy to see you too,” Lucas remarked wryly, giving her a kiss.
Wren wrapped her arm around his waist and led him into the sitting room, making room for the mass of cloaked figures that were parading through the door. Everyone filed into the sitting room after hanging up wet cloaks and jackets and removing muddy boots. The room was filled to the brim and toasty from the fire cracking in the hearth. Wren perched on the arm of a sofa next to Lucas as Violena’s few servants took drink orders and returned with hot teas, whiskey, and wine. Another put down a board heavy-laden with creamy cheeses and arrayed charcuterie, together with toasty baguettes.
“By the Piscator, it’s good to be back in Maradis,” Pike said, diving for a loaf and ripping off the heel.
“It’s safe?” Wren asked.
Violena gave a nod, and Wren took a piece of the bread and a slice of prosciutto, popping them both into her mouth.
They exchanged pleasantries and introductions while they ate and thawed themselves from the cold night, discussing the foulness of the tunnels, the hospitality of Griff’s sailors. Wren wrinkled her nose at Ella’s dramatic rendition of the sewers. She didn’t relish having to go into those.
Wren had worried about what Pike would think about working with Killian, given his role in the ambush that had led to Sable’s death, but it seemed that her concern was misplaced. Perhaps the head of the Spicer’s Guild had cooperated with enough double-crossers, enemies, and cutthroats that one more was of little note. When the cheese board (and a second) had been wiped clean, Pike leaned back in his chair, letting his silver belt buckle out one notch. “Are we all sufficiently sated to talk about the elephant in the room?”
Callidus sighed, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “Yes. What comes next? We need to decide.”
“We find Liam, the captive baker. We rescue or neutralize him. And after that, we kill the emperor,” Killian said.
Trick spluttered into his wine. “Just like that?” He coughed.
“Killian is right,” Ella said, popping a blueberry into her mouth. “With the emperor dead, the Apricans will turn on each other, vying for power to fill the vacuum. If we show any signs of concentrated resistance, they should retreat.”
“Well, obviously it would be great if we could turn all the Aprican troops into gumdrops. But—” Callidus began.
Ansel broke in. “Can ya do that?”
Callidus shook his head crossly. “No, we can’t do that. It was just hyperbole—”
“Too bad,” Bran said to Ansel. “That would really simplify things.”
“Agreed,” Ansel said.
“Let’s stick to the realm of reality, shall we?” Killian said. “We know where Liam is, thanks to our contact on the inside.” Killian winked at her. Hale. Wren hadn’t had a chance to mention it to Lucas. Would he be willing to trust Hale’s intelligence after Hale had killed his brother? Yet another unpleasant truth she’d need to share with him. The list was growing long indeed.
Killian went on. “Assuming we can find Liam, the Gifted bread should run out in...how long?”
“It took about twenty-four hours for the infusion to wear off in Olivia’s case,” Wren said, casting a glance at her friend. Dash and Olivia shared an emerald-green armchair, Olivia seeming perfectly content to sip her hot toddy in the comfort of Dash’s strong arms. Wren shoved down her trepidation about the match. About Dash. They had chosen to trust him. Second-guessing that choice served no purpose.
“Assuming they don’t have any bread stored anywhere,” Thom pointed out.
Everyone frowned at that.
“I’ve got that taken care of,” Killian said. “One of my men learned of the location of their stockpile of infused bread. We could use a diversion when we head in to get Liam. We’ll blow it.”
Wren considered. It could work.
“The annual All Hallows’ Eve parade will take place in three days. Our source inside the palace has told us that the emperor will be participating. It’s the perfect time to get to him,” Killian explained.
“To assassinate him?” Callidus said flatly. “He’ll be surrounded by guards.”
“We have men of our own.” Killian pointed to Ansel and Bran. “Plus, there’s going to be a diversion.”
“What kind of diversion?” Callidus asked.
“Well, that’s what we need to come up with. Another explosion perhaps?”
Silence fell over the table as people contemplated. Wren took a sip of her coffee. She needed a refill; the dregs of her cup were lukewarm. But the thought fled from her mind as an idea flashed into existence. “We tell people the truth about the Gifting,” she said. “About infused food. That’s our diversion.”
“Tell people that magic is real? No one would believe it,” Callidus said.
“Then show them,” Wren said. “We have all those chocolates we made back on the Phoenix. Many of them are infused. It’s traditional to throw candy at the All Hallows’ Eve parade. So we do. We throw infused candy with a written explanation. All over the city.”
“It would be mayhem,” Pike said.
“Exactly,” Wren said. “Just what Killian needs. Lucas.” She turned to him. “You say you want to turn the government over to the people. But they can’t rule if they don’t have all the information. The people need to know about this if they are going to have any chance of actually ruling fairly, not just becoming another dictatorship.”
“It would be dangerous for the Gifted,” Callidus said.
“It’s already dangerous for us,” Thom said. “I agree with Wren. It’s time to come out of the shadows. It’s time we tell the truth.”
Wren looked around the room, at the people who had become her allies, her friends. She could hardly think of a stranger amalgamation of personalities. But here they were. Bound together in a singular goal.
Callidus sighe
d and nodded. “The Beekeeper help us.”
Thom nodded, taking Trick’s hand in his with a questioning look.
Olivia nodded too, taking a deep breath. “Kasper died because of this secret. Let’s make sure it never happens again.”
Pike shrugged his shoulders. “It’ll mean big business for the Guilds. We’ll finally be able to sell our infusions. I’m in.”
Ansel crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll do whatever, long as ya pay me.”
“Same,” same Bran.
So it was up to Ella, Trick, and Lucas. The Imbris children looked at each other.
“I agree,” Trick said. “If we’re going to do things a different way, let’s do it a different way.” He patted Thom’s hand.
Lucas nodded.
Ella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fine.”
“So we’re agreed then,” Killian said. “Come All Hallows’ Eve, the secret of the Gifting will be a secret no more.”
Chapter 36
The next hours were a whirlwind of planning and preparation. As it turned out, assassinating an emperor and outing the best-kept secret in Alesia took a bit of doing. Ansel and Bran, the only members of their little group who weren’t wanted by the crown, would spend the next few days shuttling information and supplies between the safehouse and the ships, where Griff and her crew, as well as Ansel’s and Pike’s men, waited patiently. They would retrieve the crates of infused chocolates, and somehow, through chocolate-infused luck and prayer, get them through a port inspection.
Lucas had a contact who worked at the Maradis Morning, the city’s newspaper. Lucas had been fairly certain that the man wouldn’t be infected by the emperor’s infused breads, as the man was allergic to gluten. Lucas thought he could arrange for the newspaper offices to be left ajar, giving them access to the paper’s printing presses to make enough fliers to rain from the sky, trumpeting on high the truth—that in Alesia, magic was real.