SWNOVELS The Spymaster’s Prize: Chapter 25
Cass groaned and rolled onto his stomach, regretting his suggestion she strive for convincing with every fiber of his being. At the same time, the fact she’d actually done it filled his chest with fire to combat the radiating pain. He breathed deep, focusing on the sting of the cold air in his lungs, grounding himself and willing the miserable sensation to subside.
The half-dozen men they’d been with bolted past him as he dragged himself to his knees and exhaled. He had to get up, get back to his feet and hurry after them. He’d join the search, play along, and guide them the wrong way as soon as she was out of sight. They’d lose the trail and be forced to turn back, and her part in things would be over.
Somehow, he didn’t fear that she’d be caught. She was stronger than he’d ever imagined, sunshine and spitfire rolled up into the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. That fire of hers was contagious, spilling over to infect him and ignite flames in his chest. The sensation was unlike anything he’d experienced before, yet he knew its name. He blinked at the snow and tried to steady his breath.
“Get up,” Haren snarled beside him. He seized Cass by the arm and hefted him to his feet. “Got what you deserved, didn’t you?”
“Not yet,” Cass managed.
The old man wheezed a laugh and slapped him on the back. “Maybe next time, we’ll be luckier.”
No one else remained to watch him stand. The whole group had gone after her. It was his fault, Cass decided; he’d been the one to suggest she be their piece of bait after Peretor was turned free. He leaned forward to brace his hands against his thighs, breathe deep, and compose himself.
“What now?” That Haren asked came as a surprise after how he’d acted back in the cabin. He’d spared Cass the grief of questioning his leadership in front of the rest of the crew, but hadn’t hesitated to share his thoughts once they’d retreated to the back room.
“Head for the next checkpoint. I’ll catch her.” Cass wasn’t sure how, or even that he wanted to. Catching up with her meant ruining the false persona he’d crafted. After a kick like she’d given him, he wasn’t sure he was willing to do what it took to keep from being questioned again. He hadn’t yet completed the task that had brought him to Kentoria in the first place, and until that was done, he had to stay where he was, anchored firmly in the center of everything going on. Right now, he was second only to Banne. Moving up even one level would let him find every answer left undiscovered
Haren grunted. “Gonna take days to do the job again?”
“I did exactly what Banne wanted. If she didn’t want me in the palace, she needs to work on how she delivers orders.” Cass made himself stand up straight. He couldn’t dally. He wasn’t worried about being able to catch up with Elia, just that the others might. Somehow, he’d have to slow them down.
Slowly, almost reluctantly, the old man stepped back. “All right. We’ll do it your way. But be careful with that woman, Badger.”
“I can handle a prissy little noblewoman,” Cass said.
A low, dark chuckle welled in Haren’s throat. “Didn’t mean the girl.” He waved a hand and trudged off in the direction of Vinerest and the next destination.
Cass couldn’t spare the time to watch him go. Instead, he headed into the woods. There would be time later to consider the old man’s warning and unravel everything Haren had learned in his absence. Right now, he had a task.
Half a dozen men were on Elia’s heels.
None of them would reach her.
He drew his knives.
Elia took a step backwards, but Vinson was right behind her. He caught her by the shoulders and urged her forward, toward the assassin who stood with her arms folded across her chest.
Peretor stepped between them. “Let her go.”
“Stand aside, boy,” his uncle growled. “You’re too close to getting out of this to get in the way now.”
“Neither one of you have anything to fear from me,” Banne added. “I have questions. At this point, questions are all that remain. She strikes me as a reasonable young woman. Surely she’ll agree to a little conversation.”
Elia straightened her spine. “If questions are all you have, then you no longer need Peretor.” She looked past him to meet the woman’s gaze, but didn’t miss how he stiffened. “I came to see him safe and set free. If I am all you want, then send him away.”
“Elia,” he protested, but she raised a hand to stave off any further argument.
Banne tilted her head, amused. “Very well, then. Vinson, take your nephew. You may go home.”
“Is that wise, my lady?” The older man beside her—Warold—swiped the back of his hand across his forehead as if he’d been sweating. It had to be nerves. The house was chill, though Elia was unbothered.
“He has reached the end of his usefulness. Besides, we’re still a day away from Samara. By the time he reached anyone who could possibly aid him, we would already be done here.” Banne’s eyes crinkled with an unkind smile.
Peretor’s jaw tightened, but resignation slowly drew itself upon his face.
“Go,” Elia whispered as she shrugged away from Vinson’s grasp. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll fix this,” he promised, though she thought she detected a hint of doubt.
In response, she offered a brave smile, tucked in her chin, and waited for the men to leave. Peretor resisted, but his uncle was insistent, and in the end, the old sugarmaker all but dragged him outside.
Warold watched them go. “What should I do, my lady?”
“Step outside,” Banne instructed. “Watch them and make sure they leave. I will speak to the girl in private.”
The old man started to nod, then gave a slight bow instead. His own uncertainty left him flustered, and he hurried out the door.
“Vinson was part of this?” Elia asked after the door clicked shut.
“Of course. He simply wasn’t good at his job.”
“Finding information about me?”
Banne smiled. No matter how many times she did, it never touched her eyes. They remained cold, sharp, and pale, reminding Elia of the icicles outside.
No response came, so she changed her question. “So you took Peretor.”
The assassin gave a slight shrug. “We had no way of knowing you’d walk right to us. It was your friend’s idea to use you, you know.”
Elia’s brow furrowed. “Peretor?”
“Badger.” Banne smirked. “Cass.”
“You knew his name?”
“He gave it to Vinson when he was hired. That was before the sugarmaker became involved, mind you. Cass meant to use that connection to reach Peretor and, by extension, you. But men are easily bought, and I appreciated having extra eyes on my second-in-command.”
“So you hired Vinson to betray him.”
Banne chuckled. “Certainly not. Betrayal would require loyalty. All this is strictly business.” She paced across the room to where a table stood, surrounded by haphazardly placed chairs. “Now I’ve answered questions for you, so it’s time you should do the same for me. All in the spirit of fairness, hmm?”
Elia didn’t want to sit and converse with her at all, but she supposed as long as she held information and remained agreeable, she wasn’t in danger. There was always a chance the conversation would let her wring more out of Banne, too. She smoothed her hands over her skirt and crept to the table to sit down. Crumbs littered its surface and she absently swept them into a pile with her fingertips. “What sort of questions?”
“Nothing too terribly uncomfortable.” The assassin folded her arms against the edge of the table and leaned forward. “Had you met him prior to this incident?”
“No. I’d never seen him before what happened with Peretor in the woods.” If all her questions were like that, Elia figured they’d be harmless. Would she let her go when everything was done?
“Was he correct in his assessment that you would be capable of taking someone past palace security? Gain him entry to the palace?”
That question made less sense. Elia moved more crumbs. “I thought you had an assassin in the palace while we were there. Shouldn’t that tell you?”
For once, Banne looked amused. “Were you paying attention to all that? I thought you were too busy crying and trying to hide behind him. Which leads me to ask…” She grew serious and leaned closer. “Did he harm you? In the cabin or before that?”
Elia blinked, taken aback. “Didn’t you assume he would?” She was the one who had set a time limit, after all.
“I assumed he was up to something. Was he? Or was he cruel?”
How could she answer that? One method involved lying outright, and the other meant jeopardizing the already fragile cover he’d established for himself. Elia’s cheeks heated and she lowered her eyes to the table. Her breath quickened in spite of how hard she tried to stay calm.
Unexpectedly, Banne put out a hand across the table and gave her fingers a squeeze. “You were not meant to be a casualty in this.”
“Then why did you walk away?” It was a struggle to keep her voice level, but Elia didn’t fight too hard. What did it matter if it was anger that made it quaver, rather than fear? Either one was convincing.
The assassin sat back in her chair. “Because often, men are like tools. They are more useful when they’re sharp. And Cass… he is very sharp.”
“So it doesn’t matter what they use as a whetstone.” It was, perhaps, an unfair conclusion. The woman was right about one thing; Cass was sharp enough to be lethal, but he’d presented Elia with the smoothest side he could.
“We do what we must,” Banne said. “But yes. With you, he was able to enter the palace. What happened while he was there?”
Elia tried not to hesitate too long, buying herself a scant few seconds by drawing her tongue over her too-dry lips. There was little harm in sharing some of that. Maybe it would help him. “After I retired to my assigned quarters, he was found with weaponry in the hallway outside the queen’s room.”
If it surprised her, Banne gave no indication. “And then?”
“I convinced them to let him go. I thought…” Again, she wet her lips. “I thought he was a good person.” She still did.
A long silence drew past. Had that been a mistake? Or did the woman merely think she was being naive? Elia wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. The more foolish the woman found her, the less likely she was to grow suspicious.
At last, Banne drummed her fingers against the table and spoke again. “Where is he now?”
“Cass?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t know. I had the chance to run and I took it.” There were no stray crumbs left. Elia laced her hands together and rested them on the tabletop.
“How did that chance arise?”
A hint of guilt tugged at her, but she reminded herself it had been his idea. “I kicked him. He fell over, and I ran.”
Banne’s brows rose. “Kicked him?”
Warmth that had nothing to do with the ring Cass had given her colored Elia’s cheeks. “Somewhere unpleasant, yes.”
The woman’s lips pursed. Had that forestalled another question? For a time, she said nothing. Then she rested a hand on the table, her fingertips drumming against the wood. “He was on your side?”
That question was odd. Elia’s brows drew together as she considered it. “I thought he was, when we met. When he rescued me.”
“And when he crossed blades with the king?”
Ah. That was the point. Seeing how comfortable they’d become together, fishing for information that might give more answers than Elia meant to provide. Cass had crossed blades with Gaius more than once, and he had lived both times—and she had no way of knowing which incident Banne meant, if either. She sighed and spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “You know when I became suspicious of him? When I took him to my father for him to receive a reward. He was so eager to leave until my father mentioned I could take him to the palace so he could receive a reward from the king. I don’t think he knew who I was before that, but the moment he realized, everything changed.”
The ice in the assassin’s eyes glinted. “I see.”
She saw what Elia was doing, too. Deflecting the question with one of her own, providing information only tangentially related to what had been asked. Her throat tightened. Had that been a mistake?
Banne pushed her heels against the floor and her chair slid back. “You’re a clever girl. I can see why he would wish to use you.”
“Because you wish to do the same?”
The assassin’s smile was sharp as a blade. “I wish to see your king dead. That’s no secret, is it?”
“Why?”
“Because killing him is my job. The people of Kentoria should understand that better than most.” The statement was so simple, so matter-of-fact, that it came as a surprise.
Elia found herself worrying her hands. “He’s the last son of the Rothalan kings. There is no one better suited to take his place.”
Banne cocked her head to the side. “You think blood determines a person’s eligibility for a role?”
“Of course not.” But she admitted it was an advantage. Her cousin wouldn’t have been accepted as a bride for the king if she hadn’t been of noble birth, even if Thea’s family had been disgraced. There was always a possibility that aspect could cause issues later, but for now, most of the fuss had been over whether or not the king and queen were actually married.
“Then you shouldn’t care if your ruler bears the direct blood of the kings who came before,” Banne said with a shrug. “No countries should. Leadership is best left to those who are most fit, in Kentoria and everywhere else.”
A prickle of uneasiness crawled up Elia’s neck. “Where else?” she asked softly.
For half a second, a crack of uncertainty flickered through the assassin’s facade. “Anywhere necessary,” she replied, but she’d already faltered.
“You mean to kill more than just Gaius, don’t you?”
Banne’s face hardened and she pushed herself up from her seat to lean against the table. “Speculation will only risk your life, child. If you want to escape this house alive, I suggest you keep your thoughts focused on yourself.”
Another misstep. Elia’s breath quickened and she lowered her hands to her lap. “I just asked a question. Kentoria’s alliances are on such shaky ground already. If other kingdoms were destabilized—” She stopped short as the puzzle unraveled in her head.
The alliance with Nylmeres.
“You killed Eccenthe,” Elia whispered.
The assassin lunged across the table, but Elia grabbed it by the edge and flipped it upward. It knocked Banne back and gave her time to scramble free of her chair. Her hand went to the knife strapped to her thigh and she dropped to one knee, hiking up her skirt to expose it.
When Banne stepped out from behind the table, she had a blade in either hand. “And where did the little vixen get teeth, hmm?”
“I always had them,” Elia said as she inched backwards. She didn’t know how to use the blade, but she gripped it tight and willed her hand to be steady. “I just never had a reason to bite.”
The assassin snarled and lunged at her again.
Elia flung the chair between them. It wasn’t enough to trip her up, but it bought enough time to run. She bolted for the door and prayed it would be unlocked. She got it open a crack before Banne crashed into her from behind and slammed it shut.
“You’re feisty,” the assassin whispered. “I see why Badger likes you.”
Instead of snapping back, Elia brought her knife up hard into the woman’s arm.
Banne gasped and recoiled. Her hand twisted in a spasm and her blade fell to the floor, but she spun with the other to strike.
Elia scarcely had time to duck. The blade tore through her reddish curls, shearing hair before it struck the door and burrowed into the wood. Seizing the opportunity, she flung the door wide, tearing the blade from the assassin’s grasp and throwing her off balance.
The woman spat a curse and Elia lunged outside. She stumbled the first step, but righted herself a moment later. The men were gone, and the dark of night sprawled before her.
Elia did not know which way she was going, but she ran. Her feet churned through the snow, leaving an agonizingly clear trail behind her. Heat surged through her, fueled by the ring on her finger, and if her breath came a little easier than it should have, she was only grateful for its effect.
She zigzagged through the trees, desperately searching for some sign of where Peretor had gone, feeling fear claw at her throat when she saw nothing. She’d gone the wrong way. There were no trails.
The last thing she expected was to collide with a stranger in the dark.