AGENT OF THE CROWN
Melissa McShane
Published by Night Harbor Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2016 Melissa McShane
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Night Be My Guardian
About the Author
SUMMER
Chapter One
Telaine raced through the streets of Aurilien, turning the familiar streets with their tall, elegant mansions into blurs of gray stone and bright glass. Her speeding carriage hit a bump, nearly tossing her off her seat onto the cobbles flying beneath her. She screamed, and hoped the fleeing bystanders would mistake her terror for exhilaration. She gripped the reins of the horses drawing the high-seated two-wheeled carriage, her hands white-knuckled under her gloves, and prayed it wouldn’t become a one-wheeler as the horses took the next sharp corner at speed. More pedestrians scattered, shouting things she was happier not understanding.
Broad Street wasn’t busy at this time of day, but what traffic there was dodged quickly out of her way. Everyone knew her shining rose-lacquered carriage with its perfectly matched bays; that was the point, that everyone know who she was when she careened through Aurilien. She wished she’d thought of some way to make herself conspicuous that was less likely to leave her a bag of broken bones in the wreckage of the awful pink carriage.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the plate glass window of one of Broad Street’s exclusive clothiers, her hair flying—when had she lost her hat?—like a flag behind her, and she smiled despite the terror she told herself was excitement. Yes, the Princess would be remembered for this day. She gritted her teeth, snapped the reins, and the horses responded with a burst of speed she hadn’t thought they had in them.
Within the carriage, her maid Posy let out a squeak Telaine could hear over the noise of the rattling wheels. Telaine sent her a silent apology, though Posy had known what kind of ride she was in for the moment Telaine took the reins. No one ever appreciated just how good a driver you had to be to look this bad.
They flashed past the Park, men in dark suits and women in bright dresses mere splashes of color as they went in and out of its gates. Ahead, Telaine could see the vast hulking sprawl of the palace, which looked as if it had grown there on its hill instead of being built. Willow North’s tower thrust its dark gray finger high above the roofs, as if in defiance of ungoverned heaven.
Then the horses were through the never-closed iron gate with its delicate black filigree and charging up the drive. With Telaine hauling hard and desperate on the reins, they slid on the cobblestones until they came to a stop at the black granite steps leading to the palace’s front door. The carriage slewed a bit, tilted, and hit the drive with a bounce. Telaine concealed her relief under a sunny mask, all smiles, and took the hand of the footman in North blue and silver who approached her. “Welcome home, your Highness,” he said, as calmly as if four thousand pounds of horse and carriage hadn’t just come barreling up the drive toward him like an equine thunderstorm.
“It’s good to be home, Walter,” she said, stepping down from the carriage and bestowing another smile on him. “Will you see to the horses? And Posy—” Telaine turned to look at the woman staggering out of the carriage and silently apologized again. “Please take my bags to my room? I have urgent business inside.” That, at least, was the unvarnished truth.
She ran as quickly as she could through the mazelike halls of the palace, hobbled by her narrow pink skirt and high-heeled pink shoes, acknowledging everyone who greeted her with an airy, featherbrained laugh but not stopping to chat. In the Long Gallery, filled with portraits of the Kings and Queens of Tremontane, she paused to make her usual curtsey to the youthful image of Queen Zara North. Her great-aunt, dead at an assassin’s hand nearly fifty years ago now, stared back at her down her straight, imperious nose.
The north wing was all heavy oak paneling inset with ebony, ponderous and serious. Combined with the narrowness of the halls, it seemed oppressive, as if it knew how important it was and made sure everyone else did too. Telaine had to step out of the way of men and women hurrying on errands who didn’t pay any attention to her. Outside the palace, she was a well-known, popular figure. Here in the palace she was just Telaine North Hunter, another one of the North clan. She wasn’t even a very important one at that, daughter of the King’s long-deceased younger sister.
She dodged functionaries, passed the curved marble-topped reception desk with a nod for the King’s appointments secretary, and rapped at a door identical to all the others, ignoring the secretary’s protest. At a muffled command from within, she opened the door and slipped inside.
The room had looked the same her entire life: thick gray carpeting, walls painted a pale cream color and hung with paintings depicting great moments in Tremontanan history, cupboards and bookshelves bulging with tattered tomes and unbound sheets of paper. Two of the windows, both taller than she was, looked out on the massive northern wall surrounding the palace, while a third showed the lower curve of the palace wall whose sheer granite blocks were interrupted only by Ansom’s Gate. It looked impregnable in its stark simplicity, secure and cluttered and welcoming.
Telaine leaned against the door for a moment and let the tension drain out of her. There were only two places in the world where she could drop her madcap, frivolous guise, and this was one of them. She straightened her spine and crossed the room to stand in front of an enormous, highly polished oak desk with legs carved like lion’s feet and a top piled high with paperwork.
A man with graying black hair and a short beard wrote something on a sheet of paper before him; the nib made a scratching sound as it crossed the page. A Device emitting a steady white light hovered over his left shoulder. The man turned the Device off and looked up. “Well?” he said.
Telaine clasped her hands behind her back. “You were right about Terence d’Arden,” she said. “He’s thrown in his lot with the Sudenvilles. Unfortunately, so has Lady Brightwell. She’s been dealing privately with Susan Armsworthy, pretending to be an ally, but she intends to cast her vote for the other side at the last minute. Armsworthy has been foolishly listening to Brightwell about who’s supposedly on their side and hasn’t done any recruiting on her own. She’s going to be unpleasantly surprised.”
“Good work. I take it cutting your visit short didn’t hurt your investigation?”
“I got all of that information by the fourth day. I was so sick of being the socialite and hearing people lie to me and pretending to enjoy myself that I considered coming down with some putrid infection just to get away. I think I gave Elizabeth d’Ard
en the impression that someone I know is dying.”
The man laughed. He stood up, came around the desk, and embraced her. “Welcome home, Telaine.”
She hugged him back. “It’s good to be home, Uncle Jeffrey.”
The King of Tremontane gave her one more squeeze, then released her and examined her face. “You look troubled. Overwhelmed by your talent?”
Telaine shook her head. Her uncle was one of the few people who knew she had the magical ability to hear lies when they were spoken to her. Having inherent magic might not mean death anymore, but the memory of the Ascendants who’d once dominated the kingdom with their magical powers hadn’t faded. Ungoverned heaven alone knew what the citizens of Tremontane might do if they discovered their royal family was tainted by it.
“Just tired. Ready for a rest. I want to spend time with Julia, because…are the rumors true, then? About Lucas?”
Uncle Jeffrey nodded. He looked grim. “He has a mistress in the city. I find it hard to believe he would dare treat his wife—treat the heir to the Crown, for heaven’s sake—with such disrespect, but then he always was a bit of a bastard. I should never have allowed the match.”
“Where is he now? In hiding?”
Uncle Jeffrey let out a short laugh. “He thinks he is. He’s still sworn and sealed to the North family, so I know exactly where he’s gone to ground.” His eyes went unfocused briefly as he used his own magic to locate Lucas. “In Lower Town, right now. Probably drinking Julia’s money away.”
“I don’t suppose we can arrange a nice accident for him?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Imogen wants him drawn and quartered. I think she even has the horses picked out. No, I’m afraid it will have to be divorce and dissolution. I wish I could spare Julia all that, especially during her pregnancy, but there’s nothing for it but to weather it out.”
“I’ll do what I can. I can’t bear to think of her suffering.”
Uncle Jeffrey turned away. “I’m afraid you won’t be here.”
Telaine’s heart sank. “I’ve been the Princess for three months without a rest.”
“I know. I have bad news from the Riverlands. Good news too, but mostly bad. I’ve gotten word that Harroden is smuggling to the Veriboldan rebels.”
Harrison Chadwick, Count of Harroden. Marshal of the Riverlands and responsible for the border crossing where the Snow River entered Eskandel, their southern neighbor, as well as keeping the peace along the western border with Veribold. Tremontane’s relations with Eskandel were cordial. They were not so friendly with Veribold. Telaine tried to remember the Count, but came up only with a sagging, aging figure and a face that had once been handsome. “I can see how that’s good and bad news,” Telaine said, but Uncle Jeffrey was shaking his head.
“The bad news is that an agent was killed getting that intelligence back to me,” he said. “It might have been an accident, but it’s possible he was exposed. We still don’t know whether it was the rebels, or someone in Harroden’s pay. Either way, I have to assume suspicions have been raised.”
“Can you prove his involvement?”
“If the agent had documentary proof, it wasn’t on him when his body was found. And I hope to heaven there wasn’t any. That would definitely tip Harroden off.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Uncle Jeffrey closed his eyes and raised his head as if looking for heavenly guidance. “The Chadwicks are throwing a party in three days,” he said, looking at her again. “You’ve probably already received an invitation. I want you to see what you can find out. He’s probably smuggling weapons, but I’d rather not make assumptions. Find out what the rebels’ plan is. Learn whether Harroden is in league with the Veriboldan government; it’s never been certain whether they’re behind the rebel incursions into our territory. Get documentation and get out.”
“I’m yours to command, my King.” Julia would want her to stay, after so many weeks’ absence. Telaine pictured her cousin’s face when she told her she would be leaving again, and the knot of tension began re-forming at the base of her neck.
Uncle Jeffrey took her chin and tilted her face to meet his gaze. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?” he asked. “It was one thing when you were young and it was an adventure, but now…I can’t help feeling it’s beginning to wear on you. And this is far more dangerous than anything I’ve asked you to do before.”
“It’s still a challenge,” she said, smiling. “How can I pass that up? As tired as I get of the Princess sometimes, it still thrills me to walk through a crowd without anyone knowing who I really am. Don’t worry about me.”
“You ask the impossible,” he said, and released her. “Be ready to leave day after tomorrow.”
She nodded and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. She smiled brilliantly at the King’s secretary as she passed, turning his objections into a scarlet-faced mumbling. That should remind him not to object to the Princess’s wishes. She tripped lightly down the North blue carpeted stairs and went at a sedate pace through the tangled corridors to the east wing, home to the royal family. Two soldiers in North blue and silver, fully armed and armored in steel plates over leather, stood flanking the wide door of three-inch-thick oak and nodded to her before opening the door and admitting her.
She took in a deep breath, inhaled the faint spicy-sweet scent that came from everywhere and nowhere at once, and proceeded down the short hallway to the great drawing room of the east wing. Light Devices cast a warm glow over the cream-colored walls and the maple wainscoting that combined with the scent of cinnamon and roses always meant home. No one was there, thank heaven. Much as she loved her cousins, the long trip and the knife-edged terror of driving like the madwoman the Princess was well known to be made Telaine want nothing more than a hot bath and a nap before dinnertime.
She briefly glanced down one of the hallways that led off the drawing room, then shook her head and turned away. She wanted to see her beloved cousin Julia, to give her comfort, but she was too much on edge to be good company. She went to her own rooms instead, which were far away from the rest of the family…why? She couldn’t remember now why she’d chosen them; they’d been hers since she was eight years old and she’d never wanted to move in the fifteen years since. Privacy mattered to her, and she needed a place where she could shed her alter ego, but today it felt like isolation.
She pushed open the door to her personal sitting room and shuddered. Frilly pink cushions teetering on overstuffed pink sofas and chairs. Tables topped with pink marble, their spindly legs gilded. A mantel that might have been made of any wood, except she couldn’t tell which one because it was covered with a thick layer of pink paint Telaine always had to resist the urge to pick at. Rosy damask drapes and a dusky pink carpet thicker than the breadth of her two fingers. It was a room the Princess could entertain in. Telaine hated it.
There was a stack of envelopes on the horrible pink mantel; she sorted through it until she found the invitation from the Chadwicks. She entered her bedroom, which was decidedly non-frilly and had no pink in it anywhere, and flopped face-first onto her bed. “I am so sorry about the drive,” she said to Posy, who had just put away the last of Telaine’s undergarments. “Have I ever told you how wonderful you are?”
“Yes, but you ought to say it more often,” Posy said. “And it’s not like I didn’t know what I was in for when we made up this persona eight years ago.” She sat down and stretched out her long legs. “No harm done, though I don’t know as I’d say the same if you’d crashed and killed us both.”
“At least I wouldn’t be in a position to hear whatever it was.” Telaine rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, plastered and painted white. “Thank you for putting everything away. I hate to tell you you’ll need to pack it all up again tomorrow.”
“I thought we’d have some free time finally.”
“Unfortunately, no. We’re off to Harroden day after tomorrow.” She tossed the envelope at Posy, who ca
ught it and tore it open so carelessly the invitation inside ripped as well. She read the contents, then passed it back to Telaine, stretching her legs even further and putting her hands behind her head, which was how she showed displeasure. Telaine glanced at her over the card. “Sorry,” she said.
“Not your fault. And stop apologizing, your Highness. I’ve been an agent for longer than you’ve been alive and these things come with the job.”
“I’m sorry—” Telaine covered her mouth, and Posy’s eyebrows went up a second before she grinned. Telaine smiled back. “I’m having trouble shedding the Princess’s persona today. Finding out about this new assignment made it worse, I think.”
“This’ll maybe help.” Posy tossed something at Telaine’s head; she caught it automatically. “It’s been running backwards since a day ago.” Posy stretched and left the room. Telaine turned the thing over in her hand. It was her spare pocket watch, a palm-sized Device encased in a smooth silver shell, and it was indeed running backwards. Running backwards at an alarming rate, no less. Well, that was something she could fix.
She swung her legs off her bed and went to her dressing room, which was filled to bursting with the Princess’s gowns and walking dresses and riding garb and court attire. Occupying the rest of the space was her vanity table, a large marble-topped oaken thing with an oval mirror five feet across its long end. It had a dozen drawers of varying sizes and was covered with pots of cosmetics and jewelry boxes. Like her choice of suites, Telaine couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought it was a good idea; it hulked in its corner of the room, daring anyone to approach it. Though—possibly that was why she’d chosen it; no one was likely to go rooting around in its innards and discover Telaine’s best-kept secret.
Telaine opened the second drawer from the bottom, which was full of odds and ends, half-used cosmetics in unflattering colors, beauty implements used once and then discarded, a few broken pieces of jewelry. She removed the entire drawer and pulled out the shallow tray with its false bottom, revealing a treasure trove of a different sort.
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