The Spymaster’s Prize: Chapter 9

Cass had recognized his mistake the moment Elia volunteered. A failing, perhaps; he should have recognized it sooner. Refusing her accompaniment would have been a horrific offense. Explaining his apparent change of heart would be… awkward.

Instead of explaining anything, he looked toward the sky. “Snow’s going to get bad again.”

“Well, as my father said, nowhere safer to be than the palace, right?” The sparkle in her eyes made him look longer than he should.

He tried to make a noise of doubt, but it caught and he cleared his throat instead. “Weren’t the last five rulers murdered in that palace?”

“Technically, only three. One died elsewhere. One was an impostor.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

Elia giggled. “Well, perhaps not, but it certainly is exciting. Much of life in Kentoria has been exciting, lately.”

“I think I’d prefer if things were dull,” he grumbled. Not that work often was, but he’d expected job would be. A cabin in the woods was a far cry from the adventure and danger that came from jobs in the mountains, or other countries less civilized than Kentoria or the one he called home.

Although he admitted most of the excitement was his fault. No one had forced him to intervene, and he certainly hadn’t predicted doing so might lead to the palace. The opportunity was too great to let it slip through his fingers.

“Well, there’s no fun in that.” She offered a grin as they neared the gates, but his eyes drifted up to the palace above.

Kentoria’s palace certainly fit its bloody history, he decided; he’d seen the place before, but its red granite seemed darker up close. It struck him that the red palace was as unwelcoming as its ruler, but the thought was more fanciful than the sort he preferred to entertain, so he dismissed it with a shake of his head.

Elia patted his arm as if to offer sympathy. “I know. It’s more intimidating up close, isn’t it?”

Cass chose to say nothing. The eyes of the palace guards were on them now.

“Visiting again, Miss Elia?” one of the men asked.

“As often as I can,” she replied. “You know that by now.”

The guard chuckled, then nodded toward Cass. “Who’s this? New sweetheart?”

Cass almost choked. “No, I—”

“A friend,” Elia interrupted smoothly. “Is the king holding audiences today?”

“Not that I’ve heard, but he’ll make time if your cousin says he ought.” The guard opened the gate and motioned them through. “Go on, then.”

Elia caught Cass by the arm and pulled him into the unimpressive courtyard beyond the walls.

He glanced back once before he leaned close enough to whisper. “Aren’t they going to check us for weapons?”

She snorted a laugh. “They know who I am and they know better than to keep me out of the palace. Thea would have their hides for it. Besides, I doubt anyone they could let in the gate could be more dangerous than Gaius.”

So he’d heard. “You know him well?” He asked that cautiously; had he known of her connections early on, he would not have let his tongue be so loose with his opinion of the Kentorian king. But he wouldn’t fault himself. How was he to anticipate the hapless woman he chose to help would have such ties to the throne?

“I don’t know that anyone knows him well. Maybe not even Thea. But he’s good to her, and that’s all I’m worried about.” Elia let go of his arm and picked up her skirt, letting it hover just above the toes of her winter boots as she started up the stairs.

Cass followed, unsure if he should offer help. “You aren’t worried about the well-being of the kingdom?”

“Well, of course I am. But I’m just the youngest child of a merchant and politician. Me worrying about it won’t do anything to change the course of things, so I try not to concern myself with things I can’t fix.”

The guards at the door greeted her with friendly smiles and more deference than the mere youngest child of a merchant deserved. Cass expected to be scrutinized, but they gave him nothing more than a curious glance. Perhaps that was best. The easier it was to disappear back into his work among the trees, the better.

Beyond the doors, Elia led him through a hall with benches and directly to the throne room. The ease with which she let herself into such a space made his mind reel, but he was careful to keep his expression as neutral as possible. Visiting the throne room did little to help them. It was empty.

“Hm,” Elia sighed. “The parlor, maybe.”

He glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to find a guard hovering nearby, but they were alone. “They just let you walk around the palace as you please?”

“They didn’t at first. Gaius isn’t the most trusting of people, though I suppose he has reason for that, doesn’t he?” Elia caught his sleeve and guided him toward a small doorway off to the side, so nondescript that he might never have noticed it otherwise.

“I suppose,” Cass replied. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Too distracted by the part where you’re on a first name basis with the king.”

His tone had been dry, but she still flashed him a smile that was simultaneously beautiful and intriguing. Intriguing and dangerous, he decided. The notion he would probably regret coming here flitted through his head as she guided him down a wide hall and stopped at a closed door.

“Knock knock,” Elia called before she rapped her knuckles against the wood. The door was carved all over, fashioned to look like two maple trees with their branches intertwined. The intricacy of the leaves was so remarkable, Cass reached to touch one’s edge.

The door opened before his fingers made contact. A maid curtsied and pulled the door open wide. The room beyond was bright and Cass squinted.

“Made a grand reappearance, I see,” a feminine voice called from somewhere inside. It took a moment for the figures to resolve in his vision. No, just one figure; a woman standing beside a dressmaker’s dummy. She pressed a piece of fabric to its front and drew pins from a cushion tied to her wrist to fasten the intricate folds in place.

Elia murmured a thank-you to the maid and then swept inside. “Who told you I’d vanished?”

She’d let go of his sleeve. Cass touched his arm where her hand had been, almost wishing she’d held on to him a moment longer. At least until she’d brought him inside and made him feel like he belonged. Strange, that. He’d hardly known her a day, yet her presence gave him a sense of comfort unlike anything he could recall. Slowly, he lowered his hand. He didn’t know what to do with it now, so he laced his fingers together behind his back as he paced in after her.

“Your brother. Last night, near midnight, when you hadn’t yet returned. If not for the blizzard, I think he would have gone out to look for you, himself.” The woman’s relation to Elia was clear in the warm color of her hair and the fine shape of her face, though the way she gazed at him was decidedly more mysterious than Elia’s friendly smiles.

“Which brother? Romaric?” Elia snorted. “I doubt he would have found me. I’d gone out to Vinson’s sugarbush, and we all know Rom has all the woodcraft of a drunken squirrel. Thea, this is Cass, my friend. Cass, this is Thea, my favorite cousin. Is Gaius in, by any chance?”

“He is not,” Thea’s expression grew even more mysterious, though a vague sort of smile touched her lips. “What manner of friend is he that you’d like him to meet the king?”

“The sort who saved my life, so my father felt he deserved a reward.”

Thea’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Ah.”

Elia rolled her eyes and then laughed, as if the explanation were some sort of joke. If it was, Cass didn’t get it.

“I didn’t ask for this.” It was the only thing he could think to contribute.

Elia raised a brow. “But you were happy to come along when Father suggested it, so I’m sorry to say you’ll be disappointed now.”

He didn’t know how to reply.

A sly sort of grin wreathed itself on Thea’s face. “Was meeting Gaius supposed to be his reward, or did your father mean the more financial sense of the word?” She studied him from the corner of her eye as she put a few more pins in place.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I suspect Cass hoped for an audience, though.” Elia paced forward to examine the fabric pinned to the dress form. “What’s this going to be?”

Thea waved a hand. “A mock-up for my wedding dress. I’m not sure how I feel about this shape here yet.”

“What if you bring it in a little? More of a V shape here, perhaps?” Elia gestured to imply the suggested changes.

Cass frowned. “Wedding dress? The whole kingdom was told you were already married.”

“Well, yes. And no.” Spots of color bloomed in Thea’s cheeks.

“The Church of Light refused to recognize their union, as it was formed without witnesses and Thea did not sign her real name,” Elia said. “Gaius is headstrong and independent in most things, but he bends willingly to the Light.”

“Which, truthfully, I don’t think is necessary. Vows are made before the divine, not men, so it should be up to us whether or not the marriage is valid. But he wishes to remain on the church’s good side, so our official wedding is set to happen in a month’s time.” Thea removed the pincushion from her wrist and sat it atop the sewing dummy’s stump of a neck.

“How did you marry without witnesses?” Cass had heard rumors about the king’s bride, but had dismissed them all. Perhaps he’d been hasty, for there seemed to be more truth to some of them than he’d imagined.

Thea shrugged. “We signed a marriage license on our own.”

“As a deliberate forgery,” Elia said.

That mysterious sort of smile returned to Thea’s face.

Cass made a note to pry the rest of the story out of Elia later. “I see. Is, ah… Will His Majesty be returning soon?” If he had no hope of speaking with Gaius, it was better to depart before the snow came. He’d be stuck walking in a storm, but at least he could make it back to the cozy shelter of his rented cabin before night fell.

“I certainly hope so, given how those clouds look.” Thea peered out the window for a time, then sighed. “But who can say? How he chooses to spend his time is a mystery to most everyone in the palace. No matter, though. He’ll be back when he’s done. Would the two of you like to stay for dinner?”

“No,” Cass said.

“Yes,” Elia said at the same time.

He set his jaw, but she gave him a disarmingly sweet smile.

Thea glanced between them. “You’ll be staying, then? I would very much like to hear whatever story led to Uncle sending you my way.”

“We’ll stay,” Elia answered for them. “It would be ridiculous to come all this way and leave before we got to see your husband. Intended. Whatever you’ve decided to call him.”

Her cousin brightened. “Good. I’ll have a sitting room prepared for you. The staff will see that you have an opportunity to wash up before we eat. I’d love to stay and chat longer, but I’m afraid there are always things to keep me busy.”

Cass hadn’t imagined this meeting could be anything beyond a brief audience. The idea of a formal dinner with the king’s bride was enough to make him cringe, and he fought to keep his displeasure from showing. His smile was tight, strained. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Thea.” Elia embraced her cousin with such warmth, Cass felt a tingle of envy. It warred with reason within him, sense reminding him he had no need or intention of being on the receiving end of such affection.

He made himself speak, focusing on the situation at hand. “Thank you, my lady. I will look forward to it.” He wouldn’t, but it wasn’t as if she would know.

“And look forward to your reward, I’m sure.” Something unfamiliar colored Thea’s words. Teasing? Or was it a sense of knowing?

“If the king decides it’s worth granting,” he said.

Curiosity stole across Elia’s face, but the maid who had greeted them at the door stepped forward to spare him from having to explain himself. Had she been there the whole time? It wasn’t like him to let such things escape his notice, but the woman had done a good job of making herself invisible while they spoke.

“This way,” the maid said as she flowed to the door, her steps soundless and graceful.

“We’ll speak at dinner,” Thea promised as she and Elia shared one last hug.

Cass gave a stiff bow of his shoulders and let the maid lead him from the parlor. They would speak, and with fortune, the king would make an appearance.