Midnight Thief

by Livia Blackburne

  Kyra’s eyes snapped open and she straightened in her bed. Nausea rose dangerously high in her throat. “You think so too? I’d suspected. There was the armor.”

  Malikel leaned forward in his chair. “Do you know how they got access to trade schedules?”

  And just like that, the jolt of energy left her. Trade schedules. She closed her eyes. “He got them from me. I copied the schedules and gave them to him.” The Demon Rider attacks, the raids on the trade caravans. They had been her fault.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” said Malikel. “Tristam, we have much to discuss.”

  Kyra expected them to call the healer back in, but instead Malikel helped her lie back down on the bed. She watched them go, reeling at what she’d learned, the truth about the Guild that she could no longer deny. But right behind that realization, a wave of exhaustion followed as her wounds caught up with her. The two collided and dragged her back into darkness.

  She slept for most of the next two days. The rest was good for her body, but as Ilona weaned her off the stronger sleep herbs, Kyra’s nightmares returned. Several times a day she woke up in a cold sweat to a reality that wasn’t much better. How could she have been so blind to James’s plans?

  Ilona helped her regain her strength—first helping her stand, and then to walk. When Kyra was alone, she wondered about her future. Now that everything was out in the open, she had no idea what would come next.

  On the third day, Tristam and Malikel came to see her again. The councilman’s expression was stern, and he entered with a gravity that made Kyra’s stomach heavy with dread. Tristam was also more subdued than usual.

  “I won’t lie to you, Kyra,” said Malikel after they’d settled down. “You’re guilty of murder and high treason. The penalty is death, and neither Tristam nor I have the authority to change that.”

  A lump rose in Kyra’s throat and she turned her face away. She had known this was the case, but somehow, she had hoped…

  “We can’t change your sentence,” said Malikel, “but we can delay it. If you can help us against the Assassins Guild, the Council will grant a stay of execution.”

  Kyra waited until she was sure she could speak. “So either I die now, or later.”

  “You do have one hope. If you help us against the Assassins Guild, we can bring your case again before the Council. They’ve been known to reduce the sentences of prisoners who served them well. In previous questioning, you’ve been loyal to the Guild. Now that they’ve tried to kill you, and you know their connection with the Demon Riders, are you still so eager to defend their secrets?”

  She studied their faces, trying to gauge the truth behind Malikel’s words. “How do I know I can trust the Council?”

  There was a dark humor in Malikel’s eyes. “The Council shifts to the tides of politics. If you’re looking for security there, you’ll not find it. The only thing you can be sure of is what you know of the Assassins Guild, and what they have done,” said Malikel.

  At least he was being honest. Kyra tried to think, but her mind fell apart. It was a devil’s bargain.

  “Can I see Flick and Bella?” she asked.

  The knights exchanged a glance.

  “We’ll let you see them, if you want to,” said Malikel. “But you may not. They think you’re dead.”

  “They what?” Kyra grabbed her chair to keep from falling off. “What did you tell them?” Tristam reached to steady her, but she jerked away. “What did you tell them?”

  “Calm down, Kyra.” Malikel’s commanding voice cut through her hysteria. “It’s for their protection. You, of all people, should know that even being under guard in the Palace doesn’t keep you safe from the Guild. If James wants to harm them, he’ll find a way. But if you’re dead, he has no reason to.”

  She imagined Flick and Bella hearing the news, Bella’s hand over her mouth, Flick pounding his fist against a wall.

  “How did they take it?”

  Tristam looked down. “Not well, as you’d expect. But at least they’re alive.”

  She shook her head, gripping the edge of her chair like a lifeline. “Flick will do something stupid if he thinks the Guild killed me. He’ll get himself killed.” Her voice rose as she spoke. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

  And here already, she was falling prey to the noblemen’s machinations. Of course they would be making her decisions for her. Dictating how her life should go.

  “I don’t know him like you do, Kyra,” said Tristam quietly. “But I don’t think he will. Flick knows that he’s all they have now.”

  “He doesn’t know that. He thinks that because you told him I was dead.” She paused. “Who knows I’m alive?”

  “Even the guards think you were killed. Only key members of the Council know you survived.”

  “But we could still tell Flick and Bella. They can be trusted.”

  “We will if you insist,” said Malikel, “but they’ll be watched as soon as we take them out of the compound. If they let anything slip, or act in a way that arouses suspicion…Remember, you can always tell them later, once the danger has passed. But you can’t take it back once they know.”

  She glared disbelievingly at both of them. “How do I know that you even spoke to them? How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

  Tristam cleared his throat. “Idalee pulled the sheets and blankets off her bed and slept on the floor because the mattress was too soft. Flick took all the radishes out of the stew before eating it.”

  Kyra lowered her eyes, not wanting them to see how much Tristam’s descriptions had affected her. Neither knight made any further argument, but just sat waiting. Did they have a point? She despised herself already, but she would never forgive herself if her friends came to harm.

  “Fine,” she said. “Keep it this way. And I’ll help you against the Assassins Guild, if only to keep them safe.”

  Lizard-skin venom worked quickly and left the body slowly. According to Ilona, Kyra had to take doses of antidote for the next twenty days. Only when the poison was completely purged from her body would she be out of danger. Even the tiniest remnant of venom in her blood, left untreated, would gradually accumulate in her vital organs and kill her. One upside to this was that the Council deemed her less of a flight risk. Instead of keeping her in her windowless dungeon cell, she was allowed to stay locked in a room in the healer’s wing.

  Ilona’s morning visits were the only part of the day Kyra looked forward to; the healer’s gentle presence somehow made her isolation more bearable. Tristam visited her in the afternoons to speak with her about the Guild. He was no longer hostile. In their conversations, he listened to what she had to say and granted her rest if she felt tired. More than once, she caught him looking at her as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. But the knight remained distant. She told him what he needed to know, and their interaction ended at that. Kyra missed Bella’s gentle touch, Flick’s carefree jokes and contagious smile. She wondered how Idalee and Lettie were coping with news of her death, and how long she’d have to deceive them. Tristam told her that her friends had returned to the city, and Kyra hoped they were able to settle back into their lives.

  “Tell me more about your raid of the Palace storehouse,” Tristam said to her one afternoon.

  “I’ve recounted everything and mapped out the route for you. What more do you want?” she asked.

  “Why did you choose that particular storehouse?”

  “Because the landlord didn’t need the herbs, and the merchant did.”

  “What?”

  Kyra looked at him. “The landlord. Who took the herbs.”

  “Kyra, what are you talking about?”

  He really didn’t know. “The herbs in the storehouse were taken from a shopkeeper who couldn’t make his rent. His landlord took payment out of his wares instead.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I watched the rent collection. You were there.” There was a flash of recognition in his
eyes, but he still looked doubtful. “Look in your records if you don’t believe me.”

  Tristam gave her one last calculating look. “Maybe I will.” He jotted something down in his notes. “Tell me more about James. What’s he like?”

  Kyra sighed, seeing that this line of inquiry was over. “James is a strong Guildleader,” she said. “He knows his men well, and he knows how to get folk to do what he wants. He manipulates people and uses their emotions against them.”

  “Does he share his power with anyone?”

  “There’s no clear second-in-command, but he’s closer to some of his crew than others. Bacchus is one of his favorites.”

  “What was your relationship with James?” asked Tristam.

  She had been tracing the wood-grain lines on the table and now her fingers turned white with pressure. Her eyes flew to his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you speak with him often? Did you know him well?”

  From his tone, she realized it was an innocent question. Kyra swallowed.

  “No,” she said. She avoided his eyes. “I didn’t know him well at all.”

  What had her relationship been with James? She felt sick at the way she’d felt and acted, like a giddy farm girl who’d lost all sense at a suitor’s first wink. Had he really been attracted to her, or had he just been manipulating her to his ends? Her bitterness at what he’d done sat heavy in her chest, but at the same time, she couldn’t believe that it had all been a lie. James’s pride at her gradual improvement had felt real, as had the conviction in his voice when he spoke of their city. Kyra thought back to the afternoon they’d spent planning the raid. Something had happened there. She just wasn’t sure what.

  Tristam had stopped writing and was watching her carefully.

  “You’re not telling me everything,” he said.

  “There’s nothing to tell,” she said too quickly. Kyra wished he’d stop looking at her. She, for her part, looked everywhere but at Tristam.

  “You cared for him, didn’t you?” Tristam said softly, his eyes opening up with the realization. “He threatened your family to get you to kill Malikel, but that was only after things broke down between the two of you. Did he take you into his bed?”

  In hindsight, it was a good thing Tristam had quick reflexes, because things didn’t end well for prisoners who hit their captors. As it was, he caught Kyra’s wrist just before her palm struck his face. For a moment, they were frozen there, Kyra shaking with fury, Tristam focused and unyielding.

  “I may not be one of your noble-born ladies,” said Kyra, voice trembling with anger, “but I in’t an alehouse whore.” She pulled against Tristam’s grip, but he held firm. “Nothing happened between me and James.”

  He didn’t let her go, though his gaze softened in a way that bruised her pride. “You’re a puzzle, Kyra.”

  Kyra gathered her strength and twisted her arm out of his grip. “What you think matters nothing to me,” she lied. “There’s no more to say on this matter.”

  T W E N T Y - F O U R

  Tristam shuffled through his stack of records, trying his best not to hunch his shoulders protectively over them. Though he had permission to view these documents, there was still a clandestine flavor to his questions today.

  He looked over at Martin. “Any luck?” The two of them had taken over the records room, and piles of parchments were stacked all along the table between them.

  Martin chewed on his cheek as he sorted through his own pile. “Looks like Kyra’s right. The goods taken by the Assassins Guild belonged to Lord Edwin of Perkins. The Palace confiscated the wares from one of his renters on his behalf. The man was late to pay his rent because the trade caravans were attacked. He ran an herbal shop in the northwest quadrant, and a group of soldiers were sent a few weeks…” He trailed off.

  “Yes, that was us,” said Tristam. So Kyra had been telling the truth. The Guild hadn’t been raiding for simple gain. They’d had a very specific goal. “Do the records say anything else?”

  Martin’s lips moved silently as he read the rest of the report. He wasn’t a fast reader, though he was getting better with practice. “There’s a note here says the storekeeper appealed to the magistrate for extra time, but he lost his case.”

  “It does seem hard to turn a profit if you have nothing to sell. Lord Edwin’s never struck me as a pleasant man,” said Tristam. “I wonder why the magistrate ruled in his favor.”

  “They didn’t tell you when they sent us?” asked Martin. “They keep us Red Shields in the dark, but I thought you’d know the whole story.”

  Tristam shook his head. “I only knew that he hadn’t paid his rent. None of the rest. It’s not a soldier’s place to question the Council’s decisions.” That was what his commanders would have said to him, though repeating their words didn’t make him feel any less uneasy.

  Martin gave a resigned shrug. “They’ve always favored the landlords. My uncle lost his smithy last year when he broke his arm.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m sure the magistrate had his reasons.” Martin spoke with his usual pleasant tone, but avoided looking Tristam in the eye. It was a sober reminder that even though he and Martin got on well, they were still from different worlds. There were things the shieldman would never be completely open about to Tristam.

  “How are the interrogations going?” asked Martin. Tristam couldn’t tell if the young shieldman was changing the subject on purpose. “There’s all kind of stories flying around about the assassin lass. Can she really kill a man by batting her eyelashes?”

  Tristam raised an eyebrow. “Is that really what they’re saying now?”

  Martin’s smile was unrepentant. “There are better stories than that one, though mayhap inappropriate to repeat.”

  Tristam decided he didn’t want to know. The last thing he needed was to have the barrack’s bawdy tales in his head when he was actually questioning Kyra. “The interrogations are…interesting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He hesitated. “She saved my life, you know.”

  For once, Martin was startled into silence. “What?” he finally said.

  “This was before we captured her. The day the Demon Riders attacked the city, I broke my spear, and a cat cornered me. The beast would have killed me, but Kyra threw a rock and lured it away. I looked for her, but I didn’t see her again until I captured her.”

  Martin whistled. “I’ll wager she regrets that move now.”

  Tristam gave a wry chuckle. “She said as much, when I brought that up. I don’t know what to make of her. You saw us fighting that night. She would have sliced me in two if I’d let her. Kyra’s dangerous, and I can’t let myself forget that. But…”

  “She in’t exactly the vicious criminal we thought we were chasing?”

  That wasn’t a bad way to put it.

  They were interrupted by a servant entering the records room. “Sir Tristam. Councilman Willem requests your presence.”

  “Willem?” From across the table, Martin opened his eyes wide.

  “Yes, sir. In his study.”

  “Mayhap he wants to give you a promotion,” Martin said as Tristam gathered his things.

  Somehow, Tristam doubted it.

  Willem’s study was lavishly decorated. The antechamber was covered wall to wall with intricate tapestries, and the furniture was hard oak, decorated with gold leaf. Willem sat at a large desk in the inner room and motioned for Tristam to have a seat.

  “I want to congratulate you on your successful interrogation,” Willem said. “It was very clever, holding the funeral where the prisoner could see it. I admit I was skeptical about your age and experience when Malikel put you in charge of the prisoner, but you have proved me wrong.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Tristam was pleased with how the funeral had turned out. Because he’d needed it for the interrogation, the Palace had agreed to pay for the family’s expenses. But had the coun
cilman asked to see him simply to congratulate him?

  “Malikel has his…quirks,” said Willem. “But sometimes he proves effective. I hear he’s just left for Parna.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. He’s gone for a fortnight.”

  “A pity he’s not here. The Council has a pressing matter that cannot wait for his return. I’ve been discussing your prisoner with other members of the Council, and we’re all struck by how she evaded capture by climbing the walls and ledges. From all reports, she is quite remarkable.”

  Why did it bother him that the councilman referred to her as his prisoner? By any definition, it was true. Kyra was under lock, and he had put her there. He saw her again, clutching her wounded arm, eyes feverish with poison. She’d crumpled against him when he’d picked her up.

  “Her abilities are indeed something to see,” he said to Willem. “She can do things that I would not have thought possible.”

  “It seems a waste to have such a tool and let it stay locked up, especially when we’re at war.”

  He hid his distaste at Willem’s words. “Did you have something specific in mind, Your Grace?”

  “We do,” said Willem. “I understand you made a few attempts to track the Demon Riders in the forest.”

  “I’m afraid I have not been very successful, sir. The one time I encountered them, they almost killed me.”

  “We think that the prisoner might have a better chance of spying on them successfully.”

  Kyra, as their spy? Did the Council trust her? “It’s true that she’s very quiet, and fast,” Tristam said carefully.

  “Say we asked her to do this, with the possibility of reducing her sentence if she’s successful. To the best of your knowledge, would she be willing?”

  Tristam paused, suddenly unsure. “I understand her better than I did before, but still not well enough to predict her decisions. Judging from her past, she’s not averse to risk, and she may welcome the chance to go outside. But she’s almost regained all her strength. If we let her run free in the forest, the temptation to escape may prove too much.”

  “We’ve anticipated that and have instructed the healer Ilona to withhold the last few doses of antidote.”