Night of a Thousand Stars

by DEANNA RAYBOURN

  And a culmination that would have impressed Marie Stopes herself, if I were honest. If Sebastian were capable of that sort of result with his hands tied together, I shivered to think of what he might accomplish with a proper bed and a bottle of champagne for encouragement. I sighed and stretched a little, feeling a warm surge of well-being and sleepiness. And lulled by the rocking motion of the ship and Sebastian’s steady, even breathing, I felt myself slipping into sleep.

  At the last moment, without quite intending to, I poked Sebastian lightly in the shoulder.

  “Hmm?”

  “Why does Gabriel call you Slightly Soiled?” I whispered.

  His voice was thick with sleep. “Because I once hid in a cart of donkey manure to avoid capture,” he told me. “And if you ever repeat that, I’ll deny it. Now go to sleep,” he ordered.

  And I did.

  * * *

  I woke to the rasp of a key in the lock, and I bolted up, horrified to realise Sebastian and I were still in a state of disarray. I barely managed to shove him awake before they came, but not before Armand noticed our clothing and made several crude remarks for his own amusement. The comtesse pretended not to hear, but she gave me a sour look that showed precisely what she thought of young ladies who consorted unbecomingly. I didn’t care. No doubt a better woman would have spent the night in prayer and contemplation, but I didn’t have the makings of a martyr. I struggled to my feet and Sebastian did the same, hurriedly straightening our clothes as they shoved us up onto the deck. It was morning, perhaps the last morning of my life, I thought, and I stopped a moment to watch the sun glittering on the sea.

  “Are you composing a sonnet?” Armand demanded. “Get off the boat.”

  I looked around. “There’s no dock,” I protested. The crew had brought the boat in as near to the shore as they dared, in a small cove like the one they had used near Ashkelon. In the distance I could just make out the profile of the citadel of Sidon, shimmering under the rising sun.

  Armand smothered a retort and reached out, sweeping me into his arms and dumping me into the sea. It was frigid and I sank for a moment, flailing wildly as my heavy robes dragged me down. The salt water was like a slap to the face, shocking and numbing, and as I sank, lower and lower, my hands grew heavy with the cold. And then I felt it, the bottom of the sea, as I sat down hard. I shoved my feet under me and stood up to find the water at my waist and Armand laughing uproariously.

  He moved to Sebastian who lifted a hand in an obscene gesture and leapt from the boat under his own power. Armand slid carefully over the side, and followed us, leaving his mother to make her own way, carried by one of the crew as delicately as a baby. I struggled along, soaked to the skin and weighed down by my sodden robes, until we reached the sandy shore. The sailor who carried the comtesse collected his purse and she stood staring at me in distaste. She hadn’t even got her shoes wet, and I gave her a nasty look as she swept past.

  “Come along. I want to reach Lady Hester’s house by midday,” she called.

  Sebastian and I walked behind with Armand following us. I watched closely for any opportunity to make a move, but for the first few hours, I was too hampered by my wet clothes to do much of anything. I tried to hold the robes away from my legs, but they wrapped around, clinging with each step, tripping me up so often that the comtesse finally gave a sharp sigh and told her son to cut them off.

  He leered a little as he hacked at the wet cloth, but it seemed more for form’s sake than anything else. He kept looking to see if Sebastian noticed his hands lingering on my calves, and when he saw Sebastian was studying his fingernails instead, Armand applied himself to the job at hand. He made a mess of it. The beautiful Circassian gown was shredded just below the knee and the undergown cut off a little below that. I wasn’t sad to see it go. The gown had been the most beautiful thing I’d ever worn, but I’d had it on for the better part of a week and I would have cheerfully burnt it myself at that point.

  He hacked the extra length of the hanging sleeves as well, and freed from them, I walked more quickly, keeping pace with the comtesse as she led the way up into the hills. She skirted the village of Djoun, keeping well away from inquisitive villagers, and winding us around the deserted goat tracks dotted with scrubby bushes. The comtesse knew the area well. We were walking near the edge of the steep path, a sheer wall to one side and a long drop on the other.

  “You’ve been here before,” I said conversationally.

  She curled a lip. “I have been everywhere.”

  “Have you ever been over a cliff?” I asked.

  She turned to me with wide eyes, but before she could manage to speak, I reached out with both hands and shoved as hard as I could, pushing her over the cliff.

  She shrieked as she fell, until I heard the ominous thud of a body landing upon rock, and then the only sound was Armand’s howl of pure animal rage. I hadn’t thought beyond the moment I would shove her over the side, but I had prayed for a chance, anything, no matter how slender. And in the end, it was Sebastian’s size that saved him.

  He and Armand had been walking side by side as the comtesse and I had, and when I shoved her over, Armand threw himself at Sebastian, intending him to suffer his mother’s fate. But Sebastian lowered himself, using his weight to anchor himself to the narrow ledge. If he’d been luckier, Armand would have gone straight over, just as his mother had. But he caught himself by the roots of a bush, and hauled himself back to his feet just as Sebastian rose.

  The moment it had taken Armand to recover was all the time Sebastian needed. While Armand had been scrabbling at the bush, Sebastian had extracted a dagger from his boot and with a surgeon’s precision, sliced cleanly through the ropes at his wrists. They dangled free as he whirled to face Armand, and to my utter astonishment, I saw that he was smiling.

  It was the most gruesome thing I had ever seen, and I wasn’t sure which was worse—the smile itself or the bloodbath that followed. Sebastian was methodical and precise, inflicting just enough injury each time Armand came at him to stop the charge but no more. He was letting Armand tire himself out, blood pouring from each wound Sebastian had incised. Armand came at him, again and again, slashing wildly, but Sebastian was mathematical in his approach, never allowing Armand to stay near enough for long enough to inflict any real damage of his own. Each time, Sebastian countered his wild lunges with a chillingly adept slash of his own, so quick I could not quite follow the movement until the blood rose and bubbled out of Armand’s flesh.

  Armand was bleeding freely from a dozen wounds and still he came, fueled by rage and grief and a drive to destroy. But Sebastian was calm and emotionless, cutting into him as neatly as he might slice a steak, choosing where he would inflict his next blow with the most damage and the least risk to himself. And finally, when Armand threw himself forward one final time, Sebastian sidestepped and came around, one hand at Armand’s jaw, the other drawing a slender scarlet line from ear to ear. And then it was done.

  I was on my knees. I couldn’t stand, not after what I had just seen, and I was profoundly sick behind one of the bushes before I could manage to speak.

  “Sebastian,” I said.

  He turned then. He had not moved since Armand had fallen into a wet crimson pool at his feet. And as I watched, he cleaned the blade calmly on the edge of his robe and came to me. He lifted it to the ropes at my wrists and severed them in one quick flick.

  “Sebastian,” I said again, dumbly. I did not know what to say or how to think. I only knew that we were safe now, safe because Sebastian had methodically and skillfully taken a man apart with nothing more than his will and a dagger he’d apparently had hidden in his boot the entire time.

  There were too many questions to answer, too many even to ask, and I felt dizzy as he put the blade back into his boot.

  “It’s over now, Poppy,” he said gently.

 
Just then a rock moved on the path above us, and I gave a shudder. “The comtesse,” I said through chattering teeth. “She must have had accomplices.”

  A shadow fell over the path as a familiar figure came around the side of the hill.

  “Masterman!” I cried.

  She smiled. “Good Lord, whatever have you done with your hair?”

  “What on earth are you doing here?” I demanded, never happier in my life to see anyone.

  But she was not looking at me. She was smiling coolly at Sebastian. “It seems I am too late to effect a rescue.”

  He glowered in return. “What the bloody hell are you doing here? I thought you were in London.”

  Her smile didn’t falter. “Is that any way to greet your superior?”

  And that is when everything went quiet and the world began to turn and I slipped into the darkening rabbit hole.

  Twenty-One

  I came to a little while later. We were in a makeshift camp of sorts at the foot of a rocky ridge. A fire had been lit and food was cooking, something hot and savoury from the smell of it, and Masterman was looking at me anxiously as she forced brandy down my throat.

  I choked and waved her off.

  “Try whisky,” Sebastian said helpfully. “She seems to prefer that.”

  I sat up, my head swimming. “Would either of you care to explain what this is all about?”

  They exchanged glances. “Well, it’s rather a long story,” Masterman began.

  “Then the sooner you start, the quicker you’ll finish,” I told her coldly.

  “It isn’t entirely her fault, Poppy,” Sebastian said.

  “How do you even know each other?” I demanded. “You’ve only met the one time, at Father’s cottage. And what did you mean, Masterman, when you said you were his superior?”

  They exchanged glances again as if to decide which of them would begin. Sebastian must have lost because he started, somewhat reluctantly. “Do you remember when I told you the Lost Boys were under the direction of the Vespiary? Well, Masterman is part of the organisation, as well.”

  I goggled at her. “You’re a spy?”

  She gave me a pained look. “We really don’t like that word. It has such unpleasant connotations.”

  “But that’s what you are,” I countered. “Both of you.”

  Sebastian’s expression was guarded. “Yes, Poppy. In fact, Masterman was directly responsible for supervising the Lost Boys.”

  “You mean, she really is your superior?”

  Masterman’s lips thinned. “Yes, and a bloody awful job it’s been. You’ve never seen such a group of diabolical misfits in your entire life. I spent the entire war trying to keep tabs on them. They were never where they were supposed to be. And when the war was finished, only half of them were accounted for. I’ve spent the time since then trying to track the rest down.”

  I turned to Sebastian. “And that’s what you were both doing here? Looking for Lost Boys?”

  Sebastian gave me an oblique look and I understood there were some things even Masterman did not know—the existence of the Templar hoard for one. “Of course,” he said blandly. “What else?”

  Masterman broke in. “Gabriel Starke was our greatest loss. We wanted to be able to close his file. Sebastian insisted he didn’t know what had become of him, but when he disappeared suddenly in London, I theorised he was chasing down a lead on his whereabouts. They were close. I knew if anyone could find him, Sebastian could. So I arranged to follow him to Damascus and ascertain how much he’d learned.”

  I shook my head, regretting it instantly as the dizziness swam up again. “No, you didn’t. I arranged to come to Damascus to find out what had happened to Sebastian.”

  Masterman’s look was coolly assessing. “Did you?”

  I thought back, more carefully. “You utter monster. You arranged it all, didn’t you? The cryptic clues, the whole adventure. You set me a trail, knowing I’d follow it and lead you right to him.”

  “Not entirely,” she said modestly. “I didn’t arrange for the job with the colonel. That, as it turns out, was a complication from another side. I still don’t know exactly what he was after with you, but I’m sure Sebastian could fill in the blanks,” she said, giving him a cool, level stare.

  He shrugged, his expression inscrutable. I was not about to tell her about the gold. I had almost died because of it, and as far as I was concerned, it could stay lost forever.

  Masterman went on. “But I did slip Sebastian’s childhood book into his room at Mrs. Webb’s. I thought you’d respond to it. You’re rather soft-hearted, you know.”

  “That is the most breathtakingly cynical thing I’ve ever heard,” I told her, my voice bitter. “But it isn’t the whole story, not by a long shot. You were working for the viscountess before the wedding, and I didn’t meet Sebastian until that day. How could you possibly have known he’d help me run away?”

  “Yes, Masterman,” Sebastian said nastily. “How could you possibly have known?”

  She stubbed out her cigarette carefully. “Easy, Fox. We’ve got to tell her the truth, whether you like it or not.”

  Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. “Shall we draw for it?”

  “No,” she said with a sigh. “I’m the senior. It was my mission in the first place.” She turned to me, choosing her words carefully. “Poppy, it was felt that you might possibly have a place in the Vespiary. It was my responsibility to assess your abilities, to determine if an offer should be made to bring you on board with us. Sebastian was between assignments just then, so when I decided you might possibly not go through with your wedding, I put him in place and told him to act if he thought you needed assistance.”

  I stared from one to the other. “You’re mad. Both of you. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that some mysterious spy group found me out of the blue and wanted to recruit me for espionage, so they just happened to hang around my wedding in case I decided to bolt.”

  Masterman’s voice was gentle. “I had seen enough of you to believe you were not entirely happy about your marriage to Gerald. I had orders to extract you using whatever means necessary to ensure your safe departure. Sebastian was the most capable man I had at my disposal, and I would like to point out, he did an heroic job of getting you out of there. I had my hands full keeping your mother out long enough for him to get you away.”

  “You kept my mother out?”

  She gave me a thin smile. “I pretended to lose the key to the dressing room. It bought Sebastian just enough time to get you to his motorcar.”

  I shook my head. “But that still doesn’t explain why this agency, this Vespiary, would pick me out of millions of people to recruit. I’m nobody to them.”

  She exchanged another glance with Sebastian, then seemed to steel herself. “Poppy, you’re already one of us. Who do you think founded the Vespiary?”

  I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut as my head began to spin again. “Oh, God. Father,” I muttered.

  “He assisted your uncle, Nicholas Brisbane, in founding the organisation in 1890 with the help of a distant cousin, Sir Morgan Fielding. Since then, several members of the March family and their circle of friends have been engaged in espionage.”

  “You’re mad,” I repeated. “Not even Father would ask a pack of spies to haul me out of my own wedding.”

  “Of course not,” Masterman said indignantly. “We were only to assist if you bolted. Until then we were under strict orders simply to watch over you. If you were content to marry Gerald, we were to do and say absolutely nothing to betray our assignment.”

  “I can’t believe Father would abuse his position by making a perfect stranger pretend to be my lady’s maid,” I said flatly.

  I sat in stunned silence while Sebastian gave Masterman a cool look. “Tel
l her the rest. Do it now,” he insisted. “She won’t thank you if she finds out later.”

  “Tell me what?” I demanded.

  Masterman’s expression didn’t change, but something about the chill in her gaze reminded me that Sebastian was her subordinate. “Very well. We’re actually not strangers, Poppy. We haven’t met before, but we are family. My name isn’t Masterman, it’s March. Perdita March. My father, Benedick, is brother to your father. I’m your first cousin.”

  I bolted to my feet. “That’s enough. I don’t want to hear anymore. Not now.”

  She nodded. “Very well. I’ll go and see if my men have finished preparing the food.” She grinned. “Very useful that I managed to make contact with your young friend Rashid,” she told Sebastian. He started in surprise and she smiled. “Yes, I know more of your field contacts than you imagine. I made Rashid’s acquaintance, and informed him if there was trouble to find me. After he left you on the road from Damascus, he noted that you were being followed, and it concerned him. He reported to me, and I asked him to rally his tribesmen. He was only too happy to raise a contingent of Bedouin to come to your rescue. I think they’re rather disappointed there isn’t a fight on after all. I expect I’ll have to pay them double for the disappointment.” She turned back to me. “You need feeding. I expect that’s the reason you fainted. You’re young and strong, and you’ve done very well for your first field assignment.” She glanced to Sebastian. “But I think some of that must be credited to your handler.”

  She left then, and I whirled on Sebastian.

  “My what?”

  He had the grace to look abashed. “Your handler. It’s the term for the agent assigned to look after you when you’re in the field.”

  “I wasn’t in the field,” I told him.

  He said nothing, waiting for me to work it out. “Oh, my God,” I said faintly, groping for the seat again. “You’ve been assessing me this entire time, too. Was it all a charade? Just a game? Is there even any gold?”