Midnight Thief (16 page)

Kyra regarded him as if he were a snake about to strike. “And why is that?”

“Because you helped bring the Demon Riders to Forge.”

His words affected her just as he’d expected. She winced. He’d already used her guilt against her once, when he’d brought her to the manservant’s funeral. At the time, he hadn’t thought twice about the tactic, but now that they had the beginnings of trust between them, it felt dirty. He reminded himself of the vows he’d taken to Forge and forced himself to continue on.

“I know you’re sorry, Kyra, and I know you want to make amends for it. This is your chance. Don’t think about the Council or the threats. What matters is that the city won’t be safe until we drive out the barbarians.”

Tristam watched the emotions flicker across her face—anger, confusion, and regret. She was quiet for a long time, and even as Tristam’s skin crawled from the trap he’d woven around her, he realized that he hoped she’d agree. Not only because he wanted to defeat the Demon Riders, but because if he could convince her that she wanted this, she’d hate him less for playing along with the Palace’s games.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

He thanked her. She didn’t look at him as he left.

As the door closed behind him, their earlier conversation about James drifted back to him.
James is a strong leader,
she’d said.
He manipulates people and uses their emotions against them.
At the time, he’d thought James cunning and ruthless, a dangerous man with no principles. But as Tristam entered Willem’s study to deliver the news, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been too quick to judge.

T W E N T Y - F I V E

“W
atch out!” shouted Tristam.

Kyra jumped back, barely avoiding the mare’s flailing hooves. The horse tossed her head and rolled her eyes, and Kyra backed even farther away, trying not to imagine what would have happened if she’d been just a hair slower.

“I told you horses don’t like me.”

The mare stopped kicking, though she stamped her feet and snorted in Kyra’s direction.

“Now I believe you.” Tristam inched closer, cautiously reaching out to take the horse’s reins.

The young man Tristam had introduced as Martin whispered to the horse and stroked its mane. “If Muse won’t take her, I don’t know who will. We in’t going to find a gentler horse.”

It annoyed Kyra to be talked about as if she weren’t there. “Forget this,” she said. “I’ll take my chances with the poison.”

Tristam raised his eyebrows and turned back to the mare. And he was right not to believe her. As much as she resented the Council’s games, now that she was in the stables, so close to the open air, there was no way she was going back to her locked room.

They fared no better the second time. The third time, Muse’s hoof clipped Kyra’s shoulder, and she stumbled back against the wall.

“Kyra!” Tristam reached a hand to steady her.

She shot him a furious look.

“That didn’t sound good,” said Martin.

“May I?” Tristam asked, motioning toward her shoulder.

She almost wished it were broken, just so Tristam could deliver the news to Willem. Tristam peeled her hand away from her shoulder and probed it with his fingertips. She drew a sharp breath when he pressed on the bruise. Though truth be told, he was being very gentle—his brows furrowed in concentration, his eyes going frequently to her face to check if he was hurting her. These days, she didn’t know what to think of Tristam. Moments like this tempted her to let down her guard, but then he’d do something—lie to her family about her death, act as Willem’s mouthpiece—to lose her trust. Kyra’s legs started to cramp, and she realized it was because she was still trying to back away from him into the barn wall. She scowled and forced herself to relax.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

She reluctantly raised her arm. “I think I’m all right.”

Tristam exhaled in relief. “We’re going to have to find some other way. Wait here,” he said, motioning to Kyra and Martin. “Stay out of sight.”

Kyra retreated into a corner, relieved to escape the homicidal horse. Martin leaned against the wall. She picked straw off the floor and broke each strand into pieces, making no attempt at conversation.

“You were really part of the Assassins Guild?”

Kyra looked up to see Martin looking at her with friendly curiosity.

“I was,” she said, slightly taken aback.

Martin grinned. “I’m relieved to find you normal looking. With all the stories flying around, I was half expecting you to be ten feet tall and have three arms.”

His smile was infectious, and Kyra found herself reluctantly smiling back. “It’d be hard to climb if I was ten feet tall.”

Martin shifted his weight, and Kyra noticed the crimson
F
embroidered on his tunic.

“You’re a Red Shield,” she said. For some reason she’d assumed he was a stable hand. She tried to suppress her automatic disgust at that emblem.

Martin blinked at the change in her tone. “Aye,” he said cautiously. “And my da and brothers as well.” When she didn’t respond, he continued talking. “It in’t a bad life. The coin is decent. I’m lucky, since I’m a dog talker. There’s enough commanders who want dogs, so we get to choose.”

“You picked Tristam?”

“Sir Malikel, actually. But Sir Tristam is a good sort too. Sir Malikel attracts a friendlier type.”

Kyra supposed that Tristam wasn’t cruel, but she wouldn’t exactly have categorized him as friendly.

They were interrupted by Tristam’s voice outside. The two of them came out to see Lady hitched to a horse-drawn cart—the kind used by servants to carry firewood.

“You can’t be serious,” she said.

“It’s this or get your brains kicked out. Trust me, Lady is just as unhappy about this as you are.”

He did have a point. Kyra climbed in, and an amused Martin threw a cloth over her.

“Stay out of sight until we reach the forest,” said Tristam.

Then they were off. Through the slats of the cart, Kyra caught glimpses of a neighborhood she didn’t recognize. Perhaps Tristam thought familiar surroundings would prove too tempting. Nonetheless, even seeing an unfamiliar part of the city was comforting after her days in the compound. Out at night, with the moon reflecting off the rooftops, and the wind blowing over her head, she could almost pretend she was on another job. The clatter of Lady’s hooves rang louder across the cobblestones than they would have during the day. A few times, Kyra glimpsed others on the streets, but no one stopped them.

But her comfort gradually disappeared as they traveled farther. The buildings thinned out, separated first by farmland and then forest. By the time the sun came up, the smell of bark and leaves had replaced that of manure and livestock, and she saw nothing through the slats but trees. Finally, the wagon rolled to a stop and Tristam pulled back the cloth. Kyra sat up to see that they were deep in the forest, by a small wooden guardhouse.

“We’ll leave the horse and cart here.” He put his hand to her waist as she stood, and Kyra jerked away from him. Tristam stepped back. “Force of habit,” he said irritably. Was he blushing? “I suppose you don’t need my help to get off the—”

“No.” Kyra jumped off and ran past him toward the guardhouse. Though she couldn’t help wondering…what would it be like to be treated like a lady? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tristam leading his horse inside. The serving girls at The Drunken Dog would have killed to be escorted around the forest by a young knight. But then, all they knew about knights were from Brendel’s ballads. She wondered if they’d still want to be carried in a handsome knight’s arms if the deal included an assassin and a poisoned dagger.

After Lady was comfortably stabled, they continued by foot. This was an old forest, with large, thick-trunked trees that grew as high as Kyra could see, and as they continued, Kyra began to feel more and more uneasy. The sunbeams shifting through the leaves and the wind’s faint rustle seemed to hide some unknown danger. It didn’t make sense. There were certainly just as many dangers in the city, but Kyra couldn’t shake her agitation.

“Do you know anything about tracking?” Tristam asked.

“Why would I know anything about tracking?” Kyra asked, teeth clenched as she dodged another branch.

Tristam turned to face her. “Look, Kyra. I know you’re not happy with me. But it’s going to be an unpleasant trip for both of us if we’re at each other’s throats the entire time.”

She faltered at his rebuke. “I’ve never been out in the woods before.”

“Never?” Tristam’s surprise showed in his voice. “I spent my entire childhood in woodland just like this. My family’s manor is out in the forest.”

“I can tell.”

“Tell what?”

“That you’re comfortable here.” She couldn’t put it into words, but he moved differently. Even in the past hour, the tenseness had left his muscles—a tenseness that she hadn’t noticed until it was gone. He stood taller, though he’d already been head and shoulders above her. He was more self-assured, and it seemed as if a weight had lifted off him.

Tristam gave a quiet smile. “You should come out here in the fall. The leaves are beautiful when they turn.”

Kyra didn’t respond. A faint impression was forming in the back of her mind, of walking through a similar forest. Or rather, of being carried, the way Flick carried Lettie. There was something threatening about the memory, and she shook her head to clear it.

They continued in silence as Tristam looked for signs of the Demon Riders, occasionally examining a snapped branch or kneeling to look at footprints.

“The last time I saw the Demon Riders,” said Tristam, “it was at night—I think they may travel after dark. I see some fresh tracks, so we can stay here overnight if we can find cover.”

The forest was mainly devoid of underbrush, but they found a patch of bushes where a tree had fallen. Tristam showed Kyra the types of leafy flexible branches they needed to make a shelter, and they spread out to gather materials. Moving around the forest was different from walking in the city. It was almost impossible to take a step without landing on a dry leaf or crackling twig. Kyra scowled at the noise and made a game of stepping softly. After a while, she started to get the hang of it—a trick in the way she placed her foot and shifted her weight.

After some hours of work, they had an impressive shelter. Bushes made up three walls, and Tristam had woven branches in the gaps. Beneath the cover of night, it would be easy to miss.

“Did they teach you this in knight training?” Kyra asked.

“No, I used to do this as a boy, before I became a page.” Tristam stepped back to examine his handiwork and gave a satisfied nod.

“So you lived near the forest?” she asked. “Is the rest of your family still there?”

“My father, mother, and my younger sister are. My two older brothers are road patrol knights, so they don’t spend much time at home. They monitor the forest roads far from the city, mostly trade routes. Perhaps it’s because we live where we do, but my family’s always been drawn to the road patrols. We like being away from civilization.”

It was strange to think that Tristam had a family. Obviously, he hadn’t sprung up fully grown just to capture and interrogate her, but still, the idea of him belonging somewhere, of having people he cared about and who cared about him, was intriguing.

“Why are you not there with your family?”

“I thought I would join them. But everything changed when Jack—” He stopped. “There’s still some time before sundown. We should get some rest so we can both stay up the night. Why don’t I take first watch? It’s been a long day, and you’re still healing.”

Kyra pretended not to notice the abrupt change in topic. “Aren’t you worried I’ll murder you in your sleep?”

It was just an offhand comment, but he looked at her thoughtfully. “I’ve seen your reaction to death,” he said. “You won’t kill me.”

“I’m touched.” But as Kyra looked for a place to lay her blanket, she couldn’t deny her relief at his vote of confidence, however backhanded it was.

They were running. Or rather, the man carrying her was running and she was looking over his shoulder as leaves and branches flew by. There was growling and snapping of teeth in every direction. The man stumbled. Kyra screamed, but he caught himself—and her—before they tumbled to the ground. He set her down and bent over double, head down, his weatherworn face creased even further with exhaustion. Around them, the growls grew louder, frightening and familiar at the same time.

A crash of branches close by, and the man picked her up again. Sharp twigs scratched her face and hands. He set her down and took out a jar filled with something black and foul-smelling. She cried when he smeared it on her face and hands, then on her arms and the rest of her body.

“Stay still. Don’t make any noise.”

She choked down her sobs. The man took one last look at her. “Be brave,” he said, and left. She was alone, and the growls were coming closer.

Kyra woke up screaming. Branches swayed above her, mixing with the stuff of her dreams and sending her into a greater panic. She was on her feet shaking off her blanket, when she glimpsed Tristam staring at her a few paces away. Slowly, her wits returned and she stood like a cornered deer until her breathing slowed.

“Nightmare?” he asked.

She nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak.

“Sit down. You’re shaking.” Tristam came toward her slowly, as if afraid she would bolt. He took her blanket and wrapped it around her like a cloak. The weight of his hands on her shoulders was comforting, and she was almost reluctant to pull away, but she grasped the blanket and settled back down.

She’d had the dream before, but never so clearly. “I think I’ve been in a forest before.”

“You dreamed about it?”

“It was very clear.”

He sat down on a fallen log, still watching her as if he expected her to panic again. “I gather that Flick and Bella are not your real family.”

She shook her head. “In my earliest memories, I’m alone on the streets. Flick and Bella didn’t find me until later.”

There was a familiar flash of sympathy in his eyes, and she waved it away. “Don’t pity me. I was luckier than most of the gutter rats. And Bella and Flick were as good as any family once I found them.”

“They do seem to care about you.”

Kyra pulled her blanket tighter, as if by doing so she could pull her memories close. “Bella’s son died before I met her. I think she needed someone else to mother.” Now Kyra was dead too, as far as Bella knew. One more heartache to add to Bella’s long list. She pushed the thought aside. “Flick and I also bickered a lot. We still do. But he never took my coin or my food, though many times we needed for both. At least until I learned to earn my own coin.”

Kyra stopped when she remembered how she’d earned more money and that she was talking to a Palace knight. She braced herself, waiting for him to call her a lawless thief. She’d had no choice in the matter, she thought fiercely. If he’d been starving, he’d have done the same.

To her surprise, he gave a gentle chuckle. “You think I’m going to say something about you being a thief.”

“You didn’t mince words about me before.”

“I was angry.” He paused. “It was unfair of me.”

Kyra didn’t know what to say to that.

He leaned forward, looking first at his hands in front of him, and then raising his eyes to hers. “Do you ever wish you knew more about your real family?”

She searched him for any sign of mockery, but he seemed sincere. “What gutter rat doesn’t? I was jealous of the serving girls. They were always gossiping—this one grousing about having her mother’s hips, the other about her father’s complexion. I thought they were so lucky just to know how tall they’d be, how they’d turn out.” She smiled wistfully. “I would have liked some warning that I would be so small.”