The Traitor’s Ruin

by Erin Beaty

  Alex suppressed a shudder as he remembered his own dream. “I hope I behaved myself.”

  “Hardly.”

  There were six hundred and forty-four days until Alex reached the age at which Demoran army officers could marry. Six hundred and forty-four days he still had to resist her. He sighed. “Let’s get going. It’s going to rain in a few hours.”

  Thirty minutes later they were riding up the hillside trail. Alex’s thoughts vacillated between Ash’s cryptic words and a question that had plagued him for months. He hardly spoke until they reached the spot he wanted and dismounted. Alex tied up the horses in the shade while Sage set out a blanket and a lunch she’d scrounged from the kitchens. She was studiously peeling an orange when he dropped down beside her and stretched out with a sigh. The restless night and morning run were catching up to him.

  “Nice view, don’t you think?” he asked, gesturing to the spires and roofs of Tennegol spreading out below them. Beyond lay the Tenne Valley, partially covered by rain clouds slowly drifting toward them. It would be only a couple hours before they’d have to head back to avoid getting wet.

  Sage didn’t look up. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  “Just wondering about tomorrow. Ash obviously knows something about my assignment, but he won’t tell me.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t sound convinced. “It’s a bit strange talking to him, given … you know.”

  That she’d fallen in love with Alex while believing he was Ash Carter. When playing the close infiltration part normally reserved for Ash, Alex had gone as far as to tell her much of Ash’s life story. He’d been as honest as he could in everything else, though. The sick feeling returned.

  Sage lowered the orange and looked at him with raised eyebrows. “I knew it had to do with him. What is it, Alex?”

  He wondered if her job with the matchmaker last year had sharpened her insight, or if she’d just always been this perceptive. She wouldn’t let go until she worked it out of him, either. Truth be told, he needed to hear her answer. “Can I ask you something?” he said, brushing a speck of dust off her breeches to avoid meeting her eyes.

  She placed her hand over his. “Of course.”

  He took a deep breath. “When you found out who I was … were you disappointed?”

  “I was furious. Or don’t you remember me hitting you?”

  Alex couldn’t manage a smile. “No, not because I lied. I meant because I wasn’t Ash.” He threaded his fingers in hers but still couldn’t make himself look up. “If I were really him, I could have given you the life of a princess. We could even be married by now.”

  “Yes, well, I suppose I’ve resigned myself to marrying the youngest and most decorated captain in the army,” she teased. “I only get a national hero who writes letters promising to pull down the moon if it would make me smile. Poor me.” When he didn’t respond, she tilted his chin up with her other hand, which still held the half-peeled orange. The light in her gray eyes went from playful to earnest. “I’ll admit it’s a very … romantic idea to be loved by a prince,” she said, her voice softening. “It probably kept me from seeing what should’ve been obvious. But no, I was never disappointed.”

  “Not even a bit?”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Were you disappointed to learn I wasn’t a highborn lady?”

  Alex finally smiled a little. “I was just relieved you wouldn’t be getting married at the Concordium. Then I realized how much trouble I was in.”

  “Lots and lots of trouble.” She leaned down to kiss him, then sat back. “Hungry?”

  Alex took the orange from her hand and tossed it away before pulling her down beside him. “Not remotely.”

  7

  ALEX WALKED SLIGHTLY behind Sage as they returned to the palace, brushing his fingers against her hip more often than the natural swing of his arm should have caused him to. It was a good thing the weather made them return when it did. Otherwise they’d still be on the hillside, trying desperately to resist doing something irreversible.

  Why couldn’t he dream about that?

  When they reached the receiving courtyard, Sage suddenly squealed and ran across the gravel to a young woman climbing out of a carriage. The pair embraced and danced around each other for several seconds, laughing and chattering. Even in a simple traveling dress with her mahogany curls bound in a single thick braid, Lady Clare Holloway was easy for Alex to recognize.

  “When did you get to Tennegol?” Sage was asking when he caught up to them.

  “Just now,” said Clare, her shoulders drooping in exhaustion. “We rode through the night.” She gestured to the stately man who’d helped her down from the coach. “Papa was called by the king, and he said I could come along to visit you.”

  The man stepped forward, and Clare introduced him. “Papa, this is my friend I’ve told you so much about, Sage Fowler. Sage, this is my future father-in-law, Ambassador Lord Gramwell.”

  The ambassador’s bronze mustache twitched with amusement as he kissed Sage’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear. Your appearance is just as I expected.”

  Sage’s already rosy cheeks darkened further. Between their ride and lying on the blanket with Alex, much of her sandy hair had come loose from its coils. Clare extended her free hand to Alex. “Captain Quinn, I didn’t realize you would be here, too.”

  “I arrived yesterday, Lady Clare,” he answered, bringing her fingers to his lips.

  “Is— Did you bring— I mean— Did the whole company come?” Clare stammered as he released her hand. She was blushing furiously.

  Alex grinned. “I came with Lieutenants Casseck and Gramwell, yes.” The two officers had been an easy choice. “I’ll tell Gram you’re here.” He nodded to the ambassador. “And you, too, sir.”

  Lord Gramwell shook Alex’s hand in greeting. His son had been one of Alex’s lieutenants since the ambassador retired and brought his family back to Demora a few years ago. Someday the younger Gramwell would also serve as an emissary, which was one reason Lady Clare lived with his parents now, learning the role she’d play as a diplomat’s wife.

  “Come on,” Sage said, tugging Clare toward the main doors. “Let’s let Her Majesty know you’re here and get you settled.”

  Alex had a few duties he needed to attend to, so it was better that Sage went with her friend now. “See you after dinner, Sage?” he said hopefully. “Same place?”

  Sage paused, looking torn, but Clare answered for her. “Of course she will. We can catch up tomorrow after I’ve had a chance to rest.”

  Alex thanked her, though he doubted Clare’s willingness to part with Sage was completely unselfish. Casseck would end up covering most of Gramwell’s duties, too, once the lieutenant knew his own betrothed was here.

  Ambassador Gramwell leaned down to kiss the top of Clare’s head. “I can see you’re in good hands. I have urgent business, so you must excuse me.” He nodded to Alex, catching his eyes with his own for a second. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain.”

  Alex frowned at the man’s back. First Ash and now an ambassador. Everyone seemed to know more than he did.

  8

  THE NEXT MORNING Sage woke later than usual and was struggling to tame her hair when Clare knocked on her door. “Late night?” her friend asked with a smirk. “You look tired.”

  “You hush,” Sage said. “I know you and Luke were out just as late.” That was a gamble, but she knew she was right when Clare blushed. With her friend’s help, Sage managed to get her hair braided and pinned in a few minutes. Together they walked to the queen’s apartment, making plans for the next few weeks. Clare had no idea how long the ambassador intended to stay, but he’d acted as if he’d be in Tennegol through summer.

  “He retired rather young, didn’t he?” Sage asked.

  Clare nodded. “Mama was in poor health, so he returned to Mondelea for her. I think he misses his work, though. He jumped at the chance to come down here.”

 
Sage couldn’t help but notice how attached Clare was to her future in-laws, referring to them as Mama and Papa as northerners called their parents. Considering how cruel Clare’s actual father was and that her mother had made no effort to shield her daughters from greed-driven matches, Sage was glad her friend had a real family at last, even if it had taken sixteen years to find them.

  A servant ushered the pair into the queen’s dining room for a private breakfast. Her Majesty already sat at the cozy circular table draped with a periwinkle cloth and laden with an ivy-spray tea set. Though she’d greeted Clare warmly yesterday, Orianna had seemed somewhat irritated by her arrival, and Sage observed Her Majesty for the first few minutes, looking for signs she was still in a foul temper. The queen seemed cheerful, however, even playfully commenting that Sage was supposed to rest on her day off—not roam the corridors until the wee hours of the morning. Little escaped her notice, apparently.

  Sage was relieved by Her Majesty’s teasing; she’d been half expecting a lecture about last night. It had been too rainy for their usual spot in the gardens, so she and Alex had strolled the palace halls, hand-in-hand, enjoying several minutes of privacy in every secluded alcove they’d passed—and there had been many. Surely such behavior wasn’t proper for a royal tutor. As much as Orianna didn’t sound bothered by it, Sage had no intention of abusing that allowance. She and Alex would have to be a little more discreet.

  “I’m so glad you girls are here,” the queen said, holding on to both Sage’s and Clare’s hands after they’d recited the mealtime prayer to the Spirit. “I need your help.”

  Sage glanced at Clare. Her friend looked as bewildered as she felt. “Of course, Your Majesty,” said Clare. “Whatever we can do.”

  “Good.” Orianna released their hands, sat back, and picked up her fork. “Do you know why Captain Quinn is here, Sage?”

  Sage shook her head, before shoving a forkful of eggs in her mouth, relieved the queen had started eating right away so she could. “Not other than that he has a new assignment. Even he doesn’t know.”

  The queen nodded curtly and turned her blue-green eyes to Clare. “And do you know why Ambassador Gramwell has come to Tennegol?”

  “No, Your Majesty. He’s said nothing to me.”

  There was a hard gleam in Orianna’s eyes. “Then we all have the same problem. We’re being left out of something significant.” She gestured at the servant behind her, a young woman who was almost constantly at the queen’s side. “This is Meadow. Her brother Bryony attends the king as cupbearer.”

  Sage knew who Bryony was, so that was said mostly for Clare’s benefit. As royal cupbearer, he attended the king in all public functions—and most private ones. However, after catching him throwing knives with astonishing accuracy one morning in the training yards, Sage privately theorized the young man was, in fact, the king’s bodyguard. She’d never heard him speak, though. It was rumored he had no tongue.

  The queen continued, “For years, they’ve kept me abreast in matters of state that the king does not bother to include me in. Though I rarely seek to interfere, I feel it’s my duty to stay informed.” She paused and arched a delicate eyebrow. “Would you like to know what they’ve heard about the king’s current intentions?”

  Sage nodded, astonished by the queen’s casual admission of eavesdropping on very private royal conversations.

  “Nothing.”

  Sage blinked. “Nothing?”

  Orianna shook her head. “Not a word. Bryony has been excluded from almost all His Majesty’s meetings and councils.” She leaned forward again, her food seemingly forgotten. “But Ambassador Gramwell was immediately included on arrival. Today, Captain Quinn will be added.”

  The queen’s intentions were now obvious. “You wish us to learn what we can through our connections,” Sage said.

  “Yes.”

  Sage didn’t know how to react, but Clare looked horrified. The queen might think it was necessary to pry into the king’s secrets, and if caught she would likely be pardoned, but Sage and Clare had no such guarantee. “Your Majesty, with so many others excluded, the secret must be dangerous,” Sage said. As would be pursuing it, she silently added.

  “You have hit on the reason why I must know what is going on, Sage,” Orianna said, drawing her mouth into a tight line. She suddenly looked much older than her thirty-five years. “When this new unit he’s assembling marches, Nicholas is going with them.”

  Prince Nicholas was fourteen and trained with the palace guards as a squire, rather than with the regular army as his older half brothers had. As a consequence, he was far less skilled than they’d been at that age. He was also behind his peers academically, though Sage suspected he might be like Princess Cara, for whom learning was difficult. Numbers and letters seemed to change their order as she tried to read them. Sage rarely dealt with the prince and so wasn’t able to prove it, though, and if he did have the same problem, he hid it under a haughty attitude. In any case, it sounded like the king wanted him to branch out.

  “That may only prove this is not dangerous,” Clare pointed out. “If he’s willing to send his own son along.”

  Orianna rolled her eyes in the way she regularly scolded Rose for doing. “When has Raymond been known to shield his own sons from danger? Robert and Ash have always served on the front lines.”

  “That’s not true,” Sage couldn’t help saying. Clare looked shocked at her bold correction, and Sage blushed a little. Her Majesty had always encouraged frankness, but even that might have crossed a line. “Robert was moved away from Tasmet last year.”

  “Because he is crown prince,” replied the queen. “He is of age and becomes more valuable every day, both in what he handles and in his closeness to taking the throne himself. Nicholas may be second in line, but to my husband he’s always a third son.” Orianna shook her head. “But he’s the only one I have.”

  Sage still felt the queen was overreacting. “Majesty, if Captain Quinn is indeed going along on this mission, I assure you there is no one who can better protect him.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t change that I’m being kept in the dark.” Orianna’s pale hand closed into a fist. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be lied to by the man you love, Sage? To not be trusted to know the truth?”

  Sage flinched. She’d never told the queen how Alex had lied about who he was—and more—to protect both her and Prince Robert. He’d been honest as soon as it was safe, and he’d promised to never deceive her again. It was different.

  Wasn’t it?

  Her eyes drifted to Clare, who had held her while she’d cried, then offered to skin Alex alive but settled for silently threatening him instead. Clare shook her head ever so slightly, as if to say there was no comparison.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything illegal or deceptive,” Orianna said. “I’m only asking you to pay attention, ask questions, and tell me what you learn. Don’t you want to know what’s going on, too?”

  Sage suddenly didn’t just want to know.

  She needed to know.

  9

  ALEX LOOKED OUT over the columns of soldiers. He’d brought only one hundred men with him, but as he’d led the morning’s exercises, more had trickled in to join them. By the time they’d finished, the ranks had swelled to twice what they’d started with. He glanced up to the observation platform, where a lone man stood watching. Alex knew him by his posture alone.

  Colonel Traysden wasn’t just the minister of intelligence and one of the king’s closest advisers, he commanded the Norsari. Or rather, he used to. The battalion had been disbanded before Alex was born. Few outside the army had given them a thought in over a dozen years, but the colonel had been a friend of his father’s, and Alex had grown up hearing stories about Demora’s elite fighting unit. The word Norsari came from old Aristelan norsar, which referred to a bird of prey so swift and stealthy most people had never seen one. Many believed they were only a myth. If Traysden was watching the new recruits�
��all of whom had been handpicked by their commanders—it wasn’t hard to guess why.

  The Norsari were coming back, and Alex was to be a part of it.

  He was very thorough in cleaning up, trying to fill some of the time before his meeting with the king. When the hour finally came, Alex forced himself to walk to the main hall outside the council chamber with measured paces. Lieutenants Casseck and Gramwell flanked him on both sides. They reached the double doors to the chamber, and the pair dropped back to enter the room a step behind him, though the doorway was wide enough to accommodate all of them at once. As with Ash, their deference bothered him, but it was his friends’ way of showing respect for his rank around others.

  Another lieutenant paced behind the chairs on one side of the long table. Alex recognized him from morning drills. The man had done very well for all his slighter stature. Alex didn’t know his name, so he walked up and extended his hand in introduction. “Captain Alex Quinn.”

  The lieutenant’s blue eyes widened in recognition as Alex approached, and he started to salute, then realized he shouldn’t in this situation. Instead he seized Alex’s hand like a drowning man. “Lieutenant Ben N-Nadira,” he stammered. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  Alex smiled tightly. It felt good when Sage called him a national hero, but facing others who believed it was awkward. After a few seconds, he extracted his hand from Nadira’s grip and stepped aside so his friends could introduce themselves.

  Cass’s blond head towered over Nadira by nearly a foot. “Lieutenant Casseck. Everyone calls me Cass.”

  “Lieutenant Lucas Gramwell,” said Gram, shaking Nadira’s hand. “Luke or Gram is fine.”

  Two more men wearing silver lieutenant bars entered the room. One looked about the same age as Alex, but the other was older by several years.

  “Lieutenant Sorrel Hatfield,” the younger man said with a nod, looking Alex straight in the eye, as if daring him to comment on the illegitimacy his botanical name declared. Alex didn’t rise to the bait, though he made a mental note that this man might feel the need to prove himself more than others. The lieutenant had hair that matched Gram’s ruddy brown shade, but otherwise the two could not be more dissimilar—Hatfield was short and stocky with green eyes, and his skin was more freckled than any Alex had ever seen.