The Midnight Spy

by Kiki Hamilton

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  Sebande’s dark eyes held hers. “I think it’s only fair you should know something before we return to the palace.”

  Nica’s sense of well-being immediately vanished and she waited with trepidation.

  “Yes?”

  He took a deep breath. “It has never been officially announced, but it’s been Jaaniyah’s—” he hesitated as if searching for the right word— “desire for some time now to become betrothed to Shaun.”

  Nica fought to keep her face emotionless. “And what is Shaun’s desire?”

  Sebande looked away. “I can’t speak for Shaun. I don’t think he felt there was any imminent need to make a commitment one way or the other, but I can’t be sure what they’ve discussed.” He shook his head. “He hasn’t told me if he’s intending to marry her.”

  A chill breeze blew over her and Nica clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. “I’m not surprised.”

  Sebande nodded. “I thought you should be aware the princess thinks she has a previous claim on him.” He stood up and pulled his boots on, making it clear the conversation was over. “We’ve been here long enough. We should go.”

  Nica busied herself with putting out the fire and spreading the half burnt logs as Sebande gathered the horse. She tried to convince herself she was grateful for Sebande’s warning. Given the life of secrecy he and Shanks had led simply to stay alive, it must have taken a lot for him to reveal anything personal about Shaun to her at all.

  When they were both seated and the horse was picking its way up the hill, Nica tightened her hands around Sebande’s waist and said softly in his ear, “Thank you for telling me, Sebande. I needed to know.”

  He nodded his head. “Don’t thank me too quickly,” he said over his shoulder. “I still have to carry you into the palace over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

  “WHO GOES THERE?” The guard belted out as they approached the gate.

  “Sebande Vatier, on business for the king.” Sebande nodded at the rotund gatekeeper as he passed through. “Bastille.”

  “Did ye hear the news, young Sebande?” Bastille chortled in his direction, not even paying attention to the limp person in the front of Sebande’s saddle. “The princess is back.” He clapped his hands in glee. “Jonn Shanks rescued her and brought her back home where she belongs. All in one piece, too.” He practically skipped on his short bent legs as he closed the gate.

  “I did hear something of it,” Sebande said. “It is indeed fantastic news.” He rode onto the stables, one hand steady on Nica’s back. He pulled to a stop and slid from the horse, pulling Nica along with him, careful to keep the hood of her cloak over her head.

  “Come along, friend. I’ll see you to your rooms, yet again.” He heaved Nica over his shoulder, more carefully than in the past, and yelled to one of the stable boys to brush his horse down. “Give him some extra oats. The beast has earned his keep lately.”

  Nica gritted her teeth as her stomach ground into Sebande’s shoulder, swearing to herself she would never enter the palace of Jarisa in this fashion again. To Lucede’s den with all of them.

  “There you are.” A familiar voice said as Sebande drew near. “Where in bloody hell have you been?” Shanks ground out from under his breath. “I was just about to come in search of the two of you.”

  “Nothing to fear,” Sebande said. “We’re here now.” A door creaked open and Sebande stopped. “Would you like to take the package from here?”

  Nica kicked her legs and jerked herself down. She’d had enough. “Just let me walk,” she snapped. “Where am I going?”

  “I’ll show you,” Shanks said. He reached for her arm but Nica jerked away. She grasped the edges of her hood to hold it in place as she tilted her head to look into Sebande’s face. “Thank you.”

  His face didn’t change expression but Nica thought she saw a glint of understanding in his eyes. Or was it laughter? Nica allowed herself to look at Shanks. His brow was scrunched in confusion as he took in her wet hair and damp clothes.

  His gaze shifted to Sebande and his voice was incredulous as he asked, “Are you two wet?”

  There was just a hint of a smile around the corners of Sebande’s mouth as he replied with a shrug. “We did have an hour or two to kill.” With a nod at Nica he walked away mumbling about tending to his horse.

  Shanks turned to Nica as though to speak, but someone came around the corner of the corridor. Instead, he slid his arm under hers and guided her along the obscure passageways and back stairs up to her rooms.

  “We’ve arranged for you to be down the hall from Jaaniyah. We’re going to put some guards at the door and claim you’re a visiting dignitary who has fallen ill. That should buy us a little bit of time until we come up with a better plan.”

  “Fine,” Nica replied in a flat tone. “I’m not planning on leaving my room anyway.” It was a lie, but she would be gone before Shanks realized the truth.

  Shanks steered her along the hallway until they came to a set of doors where two guards stood at attention. He cracked the door open then put an arm out to stop her before she could enter. “Nic,” he began, “can I come in? There’s something I think we need to talk about.”

  Nica’s heart fluttered. She wasn’t ready to have him tell her about his relationship with Jaaniyah. Not yet. She hadn’t had enough time for Sebande’s warning to sink in. She held up her hand.

  “I am really quite exhausted. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait until later.” It took every inch of will to muster up a believable smile for him. Her heart hung like a chunk of ice suspended in her chest.

  “But Nica…”

  She cut him off. “I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do.”

  With a dark look, Shanks released her and took a step back, his face now a mask.

  “I’ll stop by and check on you later.”

  Nica nodded and pushed her way through the entrance, closing the portal firmly behind her. When the latch clicked into place, she sagged against the door, resting her forehead against the wood. Tears that had never fallen the many times Mosaba had hurt her now fell freely down her cheeks.

  How could she think Shanks would care for her? She turned and stumbled to the bed and fell on the soft surface with a muffled cry. For once, she gave in to the pain inside and cried until she couldn’t draw a deep breath. Everything she’d believed to be true about her life was a lie. She had nothing.

  AFTER A LONG time the tears subsided and she lay on her side, like a body whose soul had moved on. She didn’t belong in Jarisa. There was no place for her here. Jaaniyah would be Queen and would not welcome any threat to her authority from Nica. If Jaaniyah and Shaun married Nica wouldn’t be able to stand the torture of living around the two of them. Toppen had been right. They needed to continue on with their original plan and head to Pont d’Suree. The sooner, the better.

  ica bided her time, counting the days until she could make a clean escape. Shanks or Sebande came by daily to escort her from her room and walk around the palace with her. Like a little pet, she thought. There was a wall between her and Shaun now. Nica wasn’t sure if it originated from her or him or both, perhaps. But it made her decision to leave that much easier.

  Nica tried not to think of him, or of the time they’d shared together, but it was hard to push him from her mind when there was little else to occupy it except questions without answers. Sequestered in her rooms and with Jaaniyah in charge of the affairs of the palace, Nica rarely saw her sister.

  Instead, Nica became a frequent visitor of Becknah, who had still not recovered his health from his ordeal in the Ortawn. He was more frail and his hands shook more than they had before. But he seemed glad for her company and freely shared his knowledge of the texts of the Avedla with her. She would sneak through the hallways and up to his tower and they would spend hours, hidden away, discussing the meanings of the verses and whether the clues she’d deciphered had really meant anyt
hing at all.

  There were days when she daydreamed of continuing her quest for The Getheas Stone on her own, a sense of urgency still burning inside to find the Stone before Mosaba did. But it was impossible at this time, with Jarisa and Sartis at war.

  SEVERAL WEEKS PASSED with no further news of Mosaba’s location and no significant improvement in the King’s health. Nica was debating how to broach the subject of Toppen with Sebande when the opportunity dropped in her lap. She’d asked Sebande to show her the stables so she could figure out the best way to steal a horse without being caught when he’d gotten sidetracked by a stable hand with a lame animal. Nica had wandered away from their conversation, eyeing the horses as she looked for a beast she could handle when a worker mucking out a stall backed into her.

  She’d turned and gasped out loud when she’d recognized Toppen’s orange hair.

  “Nic,” Toppen had cried out, but Nica had shushed him with a hand over his mouth. She’d glanced over her shoulder to make sure Sebande hadn’t noticed them before she’d turned back and whispered urgently, “We have to leave. Can you get out at night?”

  “Yes.” Toppen had hissed.

  “Meet me behind the stables at midnight tonight.” At his nod she’d hurried back toward Sebande. When Nica had glanced over her shoulder Toppen had disappeared back into a stall.

  TOPPEN’S FAMILIARITY WITH the stables and horses was a huge boon to their escape. Nica told him Bastille’s name and Toppen boomed out his name as if he and the gatekeeper were old friends. Nica was dressed in her valote pants and cloak, her head covered by a scarf and hood. They slipped beyond the barricade and rode free into the forest.

  They rode hard for an hour before they stopped and pulled up under several trees.

  “Did you bring the map?” Toppen asked.

  “Yes,” Nica replied. She reached inside her cloak and pulled out the map she’d stolen from Mosaba. Toppen flicked a match and lit a small taper as she held it out for him to see.

  “There’s Pont d’Suree,” Nica pointed. “Can you make it out?”

  “Yes, I know where it is. It’s just how to get there from here that we need to know.” He grasped one corner of the map and held the flame up as he peered at the lines and pictures drawn on the page. “I think the best way to go is south toward Mar’ligaan and ride along the Cliffs of Seniesta then cut inland back toward Pont d’Suree.”

  “But that route takes us right along the Great Divide,” Nica said. A worried frown creased her brow as she gazed into his face. “Don’t you think Mosaba will have his men scattered along there? It’s the border between the countries. The most likely spot for him to hide his armies waiting for an opportunity to pour over into Jarisa.”

  “The only other way is to go through the heart of the Narsgededon and up toward the Braaks’faa which is just as risky.” Toppen held the light so he could see her face. “Besides, you know Mosaba doesn’t have enough soldiers to have the whole border covered. At best, he’s got men stationed here and there. If we keep our eyes open we should be able to sneak around them.”

  Undecided, Nica fingered the leather string that hung around her neck. At the last minute she’d tucked the small pouch the Narsgededon forest elder had given her inside her clothes.

  “C’mon, Nica, it’s quicker and easier just to ride south along the Divide.” Toppen gave her a beseeching look. “That’s the way we were going to go originally. We can pick up the old trail and pretend none of this ever happened.”

  Nica smothered an impulse to laugh hysterically at the idea of forgetting it all. If only that were possible. Though she could see his logic, she couldn’t rid herself of the unsettled feeling gnawing at the pit of her stomach. But she didn’t want to fight with Toppen so she nodded her head in assent.

  A look of relief flooded Toppen’s face and he sat back with a big smile.

  “We’ve got to be very alert though,” she warned. “Mosaba could have his men anywhere and I don’t ever want to return to the Ortawn.”

  “We’ll slip by so quietly they’ll never even know we were there.”

  THEY RODE UNTIL dawn before they sought shelter near a lush growth of trees next to a stream. Already, Nica was sore from the saddle as though she’d been riding for days. She fought a groan as she climbed from the hard leather and put a hand on the small of her back as she worked out the kinks.

  “How can soldiers ride all the time, day after day?” she asked with a grimace.

  “You get used to it,” Toppen replied. “I’ve heard your legs start bowing in the shape of a saddle if you ride enough years.”

  Nica set about gathering kindling and firewood for a small fire. The weather was a bit warmer as they went further south away from the mountains, but the bite of winter was still in the air and she quickly became cooled when she wasn’t moving. She’d stored extra food from her meals since she’d returned to the palace, so if they rationed carefully they should have enough bread and cheese as well as a little meat to tide them over until they reached their destination in about a week’s time.

  It wasn’t until they’d both settled into their bed rolls and Toppen had ceased his chattering that the magnitude of what she’d done struck her. She’d escaped. Again. Now there was no one to threaten Jaaniyah’s crown or her planned betrothal with Shanks. Even Sebande might be glad to have her gone instead of always having to babysit her. A hot tear dripped out of the corner of one eye and she buried her head against her blanket to wipe it away. Perhaps Becknah would miss her.

  “Six days to freedom,” she whispered to herself. Six days to Pont d’Suree and a new life.

  ON THE THIRD day they spotted several of Mosaba’s men riding on the Jarisan side of the Great Divide. They were in an area where the canyon was exceptionally deep, with large shafts of rock poking up from a valley floor so far below it appeared to exist in miniature. Nica spied them first. There were three of them, making no attempt to stay hidden, by the looks of how casually they sat on their horses. Luckily, she’d caught Toppen’s attention before he went barreling straight past them and instead they’d hidden in the trees.

  “Which way should we go?” Toppen whispered

  “Let’s go directly away from them and cut back over to the road later,” Nica said. Her pulse quickened at the sight of their familiar red uniforms. No doubt Mosaba had informed all of his guards to be on the lookout for someone fitting her description.

  Toppen pulled out the map. “Look where we are.” He pointed to the page. “Almost to the southern sliver. It’s the last one before the coast. If we can get past these guards, I doubt Mosaba will have any other soldiers further south.” He lifted his head and cast a worried gaze at the three men. “If we can just get past them, we’ll be fine.”

  Nica eyed the forest around them. The further south they went the more tropical and dense the forests of Jarisa became. The thick undergrowth was threaded with vines which became a deadly trap for the horses.

  “I don’t want to push our luck, Toppen. Even if we lose half a day, it’s worth it to not to give away our location.” She pointed in the direction behind them. “Let’s just backtrack and take the other trail.” She glanced at the Sartisian guards. Though they were too deep in the forest to be seen, one of the men appeared to be looking in their direction.

  “You’re right,” Toppen nodded. “That’s the best plan.” He folded the map and shoved it inside his jacket, jerking his horse’s head close to Nica’s mount. Her horse let out a loud whinny. Nica’s eyes darted to the three men. Now all of three of them were looking in their direction.

  “Casanta mici,” she swore, tightening the reins in her hands.

  “Follow me,” Toppen said in a harsh whisper and kicked his horse into motion.

  Nica yanked her horse’s head around and followed him back into the forest, leaning low in the saddle. She gripped the animal tightly with her knees and glanced over her shoulder. The three Sartisian guards were headed their direction. Nica whipped back around
and jerked her dagger from her boot. She would defend herself as long as she could. She was not going to go back to Mosaba alive.

  issing?” Jaaniyah snapped. “What do you mean, missing?” She jerked around, her deep blue skirts swirling around her ankles, to stare at Jonn Shanks.

  “She’s not in her rooms, she’s not with Becknah.” His expression was tight, his eyes unreadable. “Toppen, her friend from Sartis, is gone also.”

  Jaaniyah’s heart quickened. “Do you think she was taken?”

  “No,” he replied. His mouth was unsmiling. “I think she left on her own.”

  There was something about his reply that set her nerves on edge. Tension emanated from Shanks as he stood in the doorway, coiled like a carpidi ready to spring. All muscle and fury and passion.

  “Why would she do something like that?” Jaaniyah asked.

  Jonn took several rapid steps toward her, his agony suddenly evident. “Jaaniyah, if I’ve ever done anything to mislead you about my feelings, I apologize. I’ve always tried to be honest. Your father has treated me like a son and it’s a debt I can never repay.” He reached his hands out to her. “But I can’t give you something I don’t possess.” His eyes pleaded for understanding.

  She looked him up and down, taking in his long, trim legs and narrow hips that stretched into shoulders that seemed could bear the weight of the world. Part of her ached to hold him. His handsome face under his sun-streaked hair was so familiar, so much a part of her life that it was physically painful to think of him belonging to someone else. She’d loved him since she’d first laid eyes on the two wild boys her father had found in the forest and brought home three years ago. His beautiful blue eyes, his teasing smile, his air of danger; she’d never met anyone more perfect.

  Even her father approved of him. She’d been trying to ensnare him ever since. To tame the wild boy, to make him see that he loved her—and if that failed, to make him realize he loved her kingdom enough to want her. But that was part of his appeal—he wasn’t a young man to take orders from anyone. Even her.