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Amira
Amira and Daindreth crouched in a shadow of the wall circling the house opposite Cromwell’s. Daindreth waited close at her back, his breathing steady and quiet, watching their flank.
Amira wasn’t sure that bringing Daindreth had been a good idea, but this was the option she hated the least.
They’d left the carriage house when the first roosters had begun crowing, leaving behind a grumbling Thadred. The journey far more dangerous this time. Not only did she have Daindreth in tow, but Cromwell would know they were coming. She only hoped she’d kept him waiting long enough that any ambush he might have set for her would be exhausted and sloppy.
Even though she could sense ka better than ever, Amira still couldn’t keep track of every source and flicker of power that came in her direction.
They waited and waited until the windows of Cromwell’s house flung open and the smudged faces of several maids appeared to dump washing water into the street. Smoke huffed from the kitchen chimneys and Amira yawned. They probably had another few hours before Cromwell appeared.
Amira caught a glimpse of a woman in a grey dress and thought it was Livian, Cromwell’s wife, but she couldn’t be sure.
Livian was a pallid woman who had been born with a vein or two of noble blood and a respectable merchant for a father. She had already been three years a widow by the time she married Cromwell despite being thirteen years younger. Cromwell was the son of a country blacksmith who’d worked his way up to become a soldier and then a lawyer. He had wanted the connections of her family and she had wanted children.
Cromwell had risen through the ranks of politics and ascended to advise the king himself. Livian had withdrawn more and more into the house that seemed increasingly small in comparison to her husband’s stature. Where she had once been far above his station, it now seemed that he was far above hers. Perhaps that was why they still lived in the same townhouse with a garden and a four-horse stable—despite being wealthy enough to afford far more.
Daindreth watched the Cromwell estate and their surroundings in turn, as she had instructed him. His short hair had gotten longer, and he had the beginnings of a beard. Despite that, he still carried himself straight and tall, like an archduke. He looked and acted the part, but did he want it?
She’d never considered herself ambitious, but after her conversation with Daindreth yesterday morning...
Would their differing opinions drive a wedge between them as it had for Cromwell and his wife?
Amira had gotten her hopes up for a happy marriage these past months, but what if...what if they were not as compatible as she had begun to believe?
A few hours after sunrise, their patience was rewarded. The gates creaked open and out rolled a black carriage with the driver and one of Cromwell’s apprentices seated in the front and another apprentice perched on the back.
“It looks like a hearse,” Daindreth muttered.
“That’s Cromwell for you. Come.” Amira rose as the carriage passed in front of them.
The horses moved at a steady trot, carefully navigating their way through the streets and potholes in the cobblestones. It wasn’t difficult to keep pace on foot.
“On their way to the palace?” Daindreth asked.
“Probably. At some point.” She kept the black carriage in sight as it rounded another corner.
They followed Cromwell to the front steps of a large building with bars over the windows. The bars had been decorated with scrollwork and vines, but they were still bars.
“That’s the Taredicci Bank,” Amira explained to Daindreth. “Their Lashera depository, anyway.”
“A foreign depository?” Daindreth asked, somewhat incredulously. Out front, there were already lines of people waiting to enter.
Amira shrugged. “They’re good for trade.”
The apprentice on the back of the carriage stepped off and stuck his head into the carriage window. He exchanged several words with the figure inside then jogged up the steps alone.
Amira nudged Daindreth. “Stay close.”
The archduke followed her lead as they melted into the crowd, moving with the flow of traffic.
Amira sidled up to the carriage, moving calmly. She first made sure that Cromwell was the only source of ka inside, then slipped the door open.
Cromwell’s gaze jerked up from a stack of papers he had been reading by the light of the overhead window. His hand dropped to his side, probably to retrieve a knife or dagger, but Amira showed him her open palm, pushing back the hood of her cloak.
“It’s me.”
Cromwell stared at Amira over the rim of his spectacles as she settled herself on the bench across from him, then gestured for Daindreth to follow.
The archduke slipped in after her and shut the door.
Cromwell eyed Daindreth, even as his right hand remained at his side. It took a heartbeat, but then his brows rose as recognition flitted across his face.
“Master Cromwell?” one of the apprentices called from the front. “Sir, I thought I saw—”
“As you were, Liam,” Cromwell shouted, adjusting his stack of papers.
Amira crossed her legs, bouncing her foot as she studied the lawyer in front of her.
“Your Highness,” Cromwell said drily, appraising Daindreth from head to foot. “It’s good to see you well.”
“Cromwell,” Daindreth said, his voice taking on the polished tone he used at court. “It’s a pleasure. Since our last meeting, my fiancée has told me so much about you.”
Cromwell shot a brief glance to Amira, but she caught it. He was unsettled though he was doing a good job hiding it. Cromwell didn’t like being surprised. He certainly wasn’t used to it.
Daindreth spoke again, “I understand that you have agreed to help my Kadra’han secure information I want.” He tilted his head to the side. “Your aid is appreciated.”
“Indeed, Your Highness.” Cromwell set his papers aside. He didn’t remove his hand from the concealed weapon at his side, but he canted his head ever so slightly.
Amira had told Daindreth to deal with Cromwell as he would any other dubiously loyal noble. He might need practice being an outlaw, but Daindreth was a natural at being a prince.
“These past few months have shown me the true value of loyalty,” Daindreth said. “I prize it highly. Even more so now.”
“Understandable, my lord,” Cromwell replied. “Is this information all that you would ask of me?” he said after a moment.
“That and your discretion,” Daindreth said.
Daindreth’s appearance had thrown the lawyer off more than Amira herself could have. Cromwell understood Amira, he’d trained her in many ways, after all. But Daindreth?
He only knew the archduke from brief meetings and stories of a monster that lived beneath the man’s skin. Cromwell was no coward, but he been born in Hylendale when the Istovari sorceresses were at the height of their power. He had fought in the Plague Wars across the sea, where sorcerers and sorceresses of unimaginable power had used curses to devastate the enemy ranks. Rumor had it that Cromwell still bore scars from one such attack.
Cromwell would not underestimate a man who served as vessel to a curse.
“Why did you and King Hyle try to have me assassinated?” Daindreth’s tone was cool, cultured. The skills of courtly etiquette translated rather into interrogation—both centered on bluffing and hiding one’s true motives.
Cromwell looked the archduke square in the eye as he answered. “We both know why, don’t we?”
“You were still eager enough to give me the princess,” Daindreth said.
Cromwell shrugged. “Hylendale cannot stand against the empire. We are not so foolish as that, but we saw the chance to protect our future interests. Perhaps even the interests of the world. So, we did what we could. When we failed,” his eyes flitted to Amira for just a moment, “we gave you what you wanted and hoped you would leave. And you did.”
“You’re in contact with the Istovari.” It was not a question. Daindreth’s tone remained cordial. “You knew of the curse on my house. Only the Istovari and my own inner circle know of it.” Daindreth’s tone hardened, and Amira didn’t think it was entirely for show. “You have the voices of the sorceresses in your ear. Or the king does. We met your friend in the market.”
Amira and Daindreth had both agreed that the sorceress had to have been Cromwell’s contact. Her appearance had been too coincidental, unless there were really dozens of sorceresses randomly wandering Hylendale—which wasn’t impossible, but seemed unlikely.
Amira watched the two men with increased respect. She’d never seen Cromwell set back on his heels. Daindreth was good at this.
For what was probably the first time in a very long time, Cromwell was meeting someone without an arsenal of knowledge about them. Cromwell couldn’t know for sure what game this was, who was really in command of the empire—Vesha or Daindreth or the demon who dwelt inside Daindreth. Cromwell probably didn’t even know the full nature of the archduke’s curse.
What if Daindreth could transform into a beast and rip the entire city square apart right there?
Cromwell took several beats to respond. “Friend is a generous word,” he said. “But if you met her, then I imagine she has already given her response to your request.”
“I have business with those sorceresses,” Daindreth said. “If this woman will not speak with me, I will speak with her leaders directly. Even in their own stronghold, if necessary.”
Cromwell shook his head. “You won’t get through the Cursewood.” His voice was soft. “None of the empire’s scouting parties have. Only a willing Istovari sorceress can show the way through.”
Amira cocked her head, raising one eyebrow.
“No, not even you,” Cromwell said. “One that knows the spells. One who has been through the Cursewood before.” He returned his attention to Daindreth. “That forest is thick with poisonous plants and monsters beyond your greatest imaginings. Ever since the war, the Cursewood’s magic has worked on the living things under its shadow. It’s haunted by mutants and not the small, harmless kind like the spruce finches.”
Amira scoffed. “I’m not afraid of my mothers’ horrors.”
Cromwell kept his attention on Daindreth. “Do you mean to go yourself? They will kill you on sight if you do.”
Daindreth didn’t speak. He watched Cromwell silently, studying the other man with a pensive, pondering stare.
Cromwell looked to Amira then. “You should have been queen of Hylendale,” he said. “I would have found a way if you had stayed.”
Amira shook her head. “Don’t lie,” she said through clenched teeth. “Don’t lie to me, Cromwell. Don’t you dare—”
“It’s true,” he interrupted. “Fonra was going to be empress. We needed our own ruler if we wanted to avoid becoming a powerless protectorate. No offense, Your Highness,” he added that last part to Daindreth.
“You removed me from succession,” Amira clipped. “You had me declared a bastard. You were the one who suggested that I be bound by a Kadra’han’s curse!”
“Every curse can be broken.” Cromwell inclined his head toward Daindreth. “And look how simple it was to declare you legitimate again.”
Amira’s nostrils flared. “Don’t try to—”
Daindreth touched her knee and she fell silent, though she didn’t take her eyes off Cromwell.
“I need to speak with the Istovari sorceresses,” Daindreth said. “How they choose to greet me is their business.”
Cromwell watched the pair of them. Amira had the familiar feeling that Cromwell was moving pieces of the board she didn’t even know existed. He glanced to the front steps of the depository where his apprentice’s feathered cap was visible in the throng of people, shoving in their direction. Finally, he spoke. “My friend as you called her, is named Sairydwen.”
“How do we find her again?” Daindreth’s courtly façade wavered, and his impatience showed as he studied the lawyer.
“She’s found you,” Cromwell replied. “She found the townhouse where you were staying.”
Cold chills slid down Amira’s spine at that. Her pulse quickened and she instantly reached out with her own ka, searching for any sign of spells or a sorcerous attack.
The apprentice was close now, perhaps a few seconds away.
“You might be able to reason with her. You might not. But if you can’t convince her to help you, you’ll never convince the mothers.” Cromwell looked to Amira. “You were born for a crown. One way or another.” He inhaled. “Don’t throw away your destiny. They’ll understand why you have to do this.”
It took Amira a moment to understand. He thought she was still bound by the curse, a helpless executor to whatever commands Daindreth gave. He thought she was helping Daindreth because she had to.
That meant that the Istovari must think the same. She might be able to use that to her advantage, somehow, but just now—
“You should hurry,” Cromwell said as his apprentice’s eyes widened at the sight of two strangers seated across from his master. “Sairydwen will have taken your friend hostage by now.”
“What?” Amira jerked forward and reached out to grab Cromwell by the neck.
“Amira, stand down!” Daindreth ordered.
She remembered at the last second to obey, hands fisting at her sides, nostrils flaring. “You betrayed us.” You betrayed me.
Cromwell shook his head. “She’s strong, Lady Amira. She may be able to help you.”
Amira could feel Cromwell meant her curse, not Daindreth’s, when he said that.
“One more thing,” he said, speaking in measured, if hasty, tones. “Imperial agents arrived here several days ago, and they are watching all of the city gates.”
Amira gulped, not sure what she expected, but surprised just the same.
“Go,” Cromwell said to the both of them. “You don’t have much time. But I will leave the collie gate open tonight.”
Daindreth opened the carriage door and filed out first. Amira leapt after him and the pair were racing away before Cromwell’s driver and apprentices had time to ask who they were.
Amira dragged Daindreth around a corner, heart pounding with fear, anger, and frustration. Cromwell had known all along. He must have alerted this Sairydwen and she had found them the day before yesterday.
“Cromwell serves the Istovari?” Daindreth asked, one hand on her shoulder.
“I guess so.” She searched every corner and angle for any sign of attack, either from a sorceress or a Kadra’han. Yet there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to suggest that anyone in their surroundings was anything but what they appeared.
“Thadred,” Daindreth said. “We have to get to Thadred.”
Amira grabbed his arm to stop him. “She could be ahead of us. She could be waiting—”
“What are you suggesting?” Daindreth demanded. “That we leave him?”
“No, I—”
“We’re going back for my cousin,” Daindreth said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He was almost shouting as he continued. “I’ve deferred to you up until now, but we’re not leaving him.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that, I’m just saying...” Amira shook her head. “No, we...we have to approach carefully. If she knows we’re coming, she could panic. That wouldn’t end well for any of us.”
Daindreth closed his eyes, mouth tight. “What are you suggesting?”
“Try not to warn her, if we can.”
Daindreth hesitated, stance rigid, jaw tight. He shook his head slightly, then stopped, as if changing his mind on something. “Lead the way.”
Amira stepped in front of him and broke into a jog. She retraced their steps back toward the townhouse, mind awhirl with a hundred possibilities and eventualities.
The Istovari had caught up with them. She wondered how long it would be before the Kadra’han closed in, too.
