Midnight Thief (28 page)

It was shrewd of Malikel to bring up The Drunken Dog. The memory of its loss was still sharp, and even the thought of Bella awakened a fierce desire for revenge. But on the other hand, did she really want to help the Palace consolidate its power? She thought again of the rent collection, of corrupt Red Shields and nobles. Kyra swallowed and hoped she wouldn’t regret what she was about to say.

“I want pay equal to the knights’. I’ll live outside the Palace, and I take no vows. If the job is fair, I’ll carry it out, but I’ll be beholden to no one.”

“You ask too much, girl,” said Willem. He took a step toward her, and Kyra stepped back, hand curling for her knife.

“Stay back. If you don’t like my offer, then find someone else who can do what I do.”

Willem’s eyes flashed, and for a moment Kyra thought he might attack her. She tensed, ready to run, but the councilman slowly and deliberately relaxed his posture, though his gaze was not friendly.

“Very well,” he said. “We will accept your terms.”

Tristam thought he’d been prepared for his arrest and punishment. He’d suspected that the squires at the guardhouse would have orders to bring him in, and that he’d be confined to his quarters upon his return. In the hours he’d spent before turning himself in, wandering the forest as Kyra slept, Tristam had made peace with what was to come.

But it was one thing to know what was coming, and another to march past the knowing glances of his peers at the Palace—men who’d served with him and under his command. There were whispers just out of earshot, though he heard bits and pieces.
Disgraced…Disobedient…Promising young knight…All the more shocking…

“I won’t be able to shield you from the consequences of your actions,” was all Malikel had said. And when Tristam revealed that Martin was dead, his commander had just acknowledged it with a sad nod.

Now confined to his room, all Tristam could do was wait. He paced the length of his quarters, futilely wishing that someone would tell him what was happening outside. Guards brought him meals, but they didn’t even look him in the eye, much less tell him news of Kyra. He had plenty of time to think over their last conversation, remembering how she’d felt in his arms—firm muscle over a delicate frame—seeing the trust in her eyes. Things had seemed so simple out in the forest.

On the second day of Tristam’s imprisonment, Councilman Willem arrived unannounced. He came alone and closed the door behind him.

“Sit down,” Willem commanded.

Tristam carefully lowered himself into a chair. The councilman remained standing, staring down at him like a schoolmaster berating a pupil.

“You disobeyed my direct orders to stay out of the forest. And not only that, you led one of your own men in with you.” Willem paused. “Your actions led to your soldier’s death. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“No, sir. I will take my punishment.”

“Which the Council is discussing now.” Willem turned to face him. “Truth be told, you should be charged with more, but the traitor Kyra is adamant that you had no part in her scheme.”

Tristam lifted his head despite himself. He was too eager to hear about her, and the flash in Willem’s eyes showed that he’d noted it. “I don’t believe her. Few do, but your mentor has argued strongly that we only charge you for the crimes for which we have proof.” The councilman’s lips curled. “Malikel, despite his foreigner’s ways, still commands some influence in the Council.”

Tristam began to feel a spark of hope.

“We’ve agreed to Kyra’s terms,” said Willem. “Does that please you?”

He didn’t answer.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” said Willem.

Tristam stuttered, caught off guard. Again, Willem noted his reaction and gave a knowing nod.

“Mistresses are an unavoidable reality of court life. We’re willing to look the other way, provided you’re discreet. I’ll remind you that disobeying orders and flouting the Council would not be discreet.”

Tristam bristled at the implied insult. “Thank you for the warning, Your Grace, but I assure you that I have no plans for taking on a mistress.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You come from a fine family, Tristam. By all reports, you’re well-bred and well-taught. I trust you will conduct yourself in a manner to preserve your family’s reputation. Some restraint on your part would save both of you a good deal of pain and embarrassment.”

“Your Grace, I—”

“I don’t need your opinion, Tristam. Do you understand me, or not?”

“I understand,” he said.

“I hope, for your sake, that you’re telling the truth. I will see you at your sentencing.”

The terms of Kyra’s pardon were announced the next morning by the Palace herald, along with the rest of the day’s news. Although she didn’t dare be there for the announcement itself, she questioned enough people afterward to satisfy herself that the Palace had kept its side of the bargain.

Later that morning, she met Malikel and his knights at the city gate and led them through the forest to where James was kept. By all appearances, the assassin was bound but unguarded. Only Kyra noticed the amber eyes looking down from an adjacent tree.

“This is him,” she told Malikel.

James was pale and more gaunt than he’d been before, but otherwise didn’t look injured. He said nothing as the Red Shields unbound him. They handled him roughly, and when a soldier struck him for moving too slowly, James held Kyra’s eyes as he took the blow. Only when the soldiers were in formation around him, ready to begin the march back, did he finally speak.

“Have you told them what you are?” he asked. His voice carried clearly through the crisp fall air.

Kyra faced straight ahead, though her heart quickened and she looked out of the corner of her eye for escape routes.

“You didn’t, did you? The Palace will regret this, bringing their enemy into their midst.”

Malikel cast a glance toward Kyra. “What is this?”

She hoped her voice wouldn’t give her away. Flick was better at this sort of thing, but he couldn’t help her now. “I’ve told you, sir. This is what he does. He knows what to say and how to make people do what he wants. When you interrogate him, most of your work will be separating the lies from the truth.”

She sensed Malikel’s eyes on her as they continued walking, and she focused on keeping her face relaxed, her breathing steady. After what seemed an endless stretch, Malikel looked away.

The laugh, harsh and biting, took everyone by surprise. Kyra turned to see James with his head thrown back as if he had just heard the world’s funniest tale. When he finally stopped, he looked at Kyra with something akin to respect in his eyes.

“Well done, Kyra. Well done.”

E P I L O G U E

T
he antechamber to the Council Room was one of the Palace’s finest spaces, built with the intention of intimidating visiting dignitaries. The floor was fine gray stone and the walls all black, inlaid with gold leaf. As Kyra awaited her audience in the antechamber, she had to admit that the architecture was accomplishing its purpose. Surrounded by all this luxury while dressed in her own plain tunic, she found it hard not to feel small.

Two Red Shields escorted her. Though Kyra wasn’t bound, she still kept a careful eye on them. Willem had grudgingly allowed her to spend the two weeks before her audience in the city, but he’d insisted that she appear for the audience itself. It was a risk, coming back to the Palace, but she didn’t think the Council was so bold as to break promises it had announced to the masses, and she could only jump at shadows for so long.

The antechamber’s focal point was a pair of massive oak doors leading to the Council Room, and an attendant pulled them open. “The Council is ready to see you.”

She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The Red Shields trailed a step behind her. Kyra had never seen the Council Room before—there had been no need, since no records were kept there, and no important supplies. Facing the door were two semicircular rows of tables, the outer raised above the inner, where the twenty Council members sat. Councilman Willem presided in the center of the outer row. Kyra spotted Malikel in the inner row and once again wondered what the councilman thought of her, and what he made of the accusations James had leveled at her in the forest.

The Red Shields escorted her to a bench and motioned for her to sit. They stood behind her to watch the proceedings.

A herald cleared his throat. “We call Sir Tristam of Brancel to stand before the Council.”

Kyra jumped at the name and scanned the room, eager to catch a glimpse of him. He stood by a bench on the opposite side of the room, and he was also flanked by two soldiers. He didn’t look hurt, and he held his head high, though his lips were pressed in a grim line.

Councilman Willem cleared his throat. “Sir Tristam of Brancel,” said Councilman Willem. “You are guilty of disobeying the Council’s orders and attempting to rescue Kyra of Forge, causing the death of a Palace soldier in the process. Do you deny these charges?”

“No, Your Grace, I do not.”

“Because of your disobedience, you will be stripped of your knighthood for one year. You will serve as a Red Shield and perform all the duties required of your new station. At the end of the year, the Council will review your behavior and make a decision as to whether to reinstate your rank.”

The slightest of shudders passed through his body, but his voice was clear when he responded. “I accept the judgment of the Council.”

“You are dismissed. I call Kyra of Forge to stand before the Council.”

Kyra threw one last look at Tristam’s back as he was led out the door.

“Kyra of Forge,” said Willem. “You are guilty of high treason and murder. Do you deny these charges?”

Her crimes were common knowledge by now and denying them would have been useless. Still, it was hard to get the words out. “I do not deny these charges,” she said.

“The penalty for these crimes is death. Do you understand this?”

“I understand.”

The councilman paused and studied her face, as if he were trying to see if his words scared her. “Your crimes are grievous, but you’ve performed a great service to the city. By capturing the assassin James, you’ve removed a grave threat. The Demon Riders still attack the countryside, but without the Guild’s encouragement, they stay away from Forge.” The councilman glanced at the documents in front of him. “In light of your service, the Council hereby revokes your death sentence.”

Kyra hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until a wave of relief swept over her. She swayed slightly on her feet. “I accept the judgment of the Council.”

“Take care you do not abuse the Council’s good faith in this matter.” The threat in his eyes belied his formal tone.

Kyra said nothing.

Willem put his documents aside. “You are dismissed.”

She let the Red Shields escort her out through the atrium, and then to the compound gates. Nobles and staff hurried about their tasks, and no one paid her any particular heed. The soldiers left her just outside the main gate. Alone in the open air, Kyra finally felt the tightness drain out of her muscles. It was hard to believe that she was actually free. She was turning toward the southwest district when she saw a familiar form waiting by the compound wall. Tristam inclined his head in greeting. His clothing was different, she noticed. He still wore a tunic of Palace red, but it lacked the knight insignia, and her heart fell. Kyra suddenly felt uncertain as she approached him. His expression was calm. Not bitter, but he looked at her as if he didn’t know what to expect. And neither did she. It was hard to know what a stolen kiss in the forest meant, after all that had happened.

“It worked,” Tristam said quietly. “I almost can’t believe it.”

She nodded. “For now. Though it will be a long time before I see a Red Shield without getting the urge to run.” She stopped. Here she was, celebrating her release, while Tristam had been punished. “I’m sorry. About your sentence.”

He gave a slight shake of his head. “One year is nothing. It could have been much worse.”

She suspected he was downplaying the repercussions, but there was no point in dwelling on it. It was strange, how much difference one’s surroundings could make. When it had just been the two of them in the forest, it was easy to overlook their differences. But here, even in his guard’s tunic, Tristam looked like he belonged at the Palace. It was written all over his bearing, his refined speech. She, on the other hand, was from a different world altogether.

“So what will you do now?” he asked.

“I’ll lay low for a while. I had some coin that made it through the fire, and Flick’s found a place near his quarters where I can live with Lettie and Idalee. Malikel wants my help dealing with the Assassins Guild and the Demon Riders. I’ll work with him for now, at least until I learn more about what’s going on. He makes me nervous sometimes, but I respect him.”

“So does that mean I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Most likely.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. Kyra looked up at him. “Take care, then. Until next time.”

She reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. Tristam squeezed back, and then, without breaking his gaze, raised her hand to his lips. “Until then.”

Kyra smiled despite herself, suddenly shy, and took her leave. She could sense Tristam watching her as she walked, and the touch of his lips lingered on her hand well after she turned the corner. She wandered the city without thought, meandering past markets and houses and enjoying the sunlight. Eventually, she found herself in the fire-damaged district. The worst of the wreckage was cleared away by now, and the streets were cleaned of debris. The charred frame of The Drunken Dog, however, still remained. Kyra stood at the threshold for a moment, tempted to go in, but turned away.

She continued to the stone market building where they’d waited out the Demon Rider attack. In front of the building, people had set up a memorial. Stones, flowers, and parchments with names of the perished were piled by the door. Kyra crouched before the stones and tried to read off the faded parchments. She saw the name of a serving girl at The Drunken Dog, as well as the baker’s son. She grabbed a parchment that had faded almost completely away. There were no bits of charcoal nearby, so she contented herself with tracing Bella’s name out with her finger.

“I figured you’d be here,” said a familiar voice.

Kyra moved aside to make room for Flick. “I wanted to pay my respects, now that I’m free.”

“She’d be glad to see you safely back.”

“I wish she was still here.”

For a while, they stood in silence, contemplating the memorial. Finally, Flick spoke again.

“So, the cat thing,” he said. “Have you tried it since?” Flick had taken the news of Kyra’s parentage surprisingly in stride. After the initial shock, he’d told Kyra that he wasn’t that surprised. Too many years of watching Kyra do the impossible, he supposed.

Kyra shook her head. “It in’t safe with people nearby, without the clan to teach me. But even if I did have help, I don’t know if I’d want to.”

“Why?”

Kyra twisted her tunic in her hands, struggling to put her thoughts into words. “When I worked for the Guild, I was shocked by their violence. I worried they would change me, but I pushed my worries aside because it was easier. And because of that, I’ll always have innocent blood on my hands. You weren’t there at the man’s funeral, Flick. His wife, his children, their lives changed forever because I ignored my doubts.”

She drew a shaky breath and continued. “After he—after I killed him, I knew I had to leave the Guild. And when I told James, he told me not to bother. He said I wasn’t a talesinger’s heroine, that I was a former gutter rat who stole for living. I thought I’d prove him wrong by working with the Palace, but everything kept getting worse. He’d sent me to kill Malikel, but soon, I was the one volunteering to poison
him
. After that, the Makvani found me. The way they killed people in cold blood—it confirmed everything that James had ever thought of me. The feelings that I had when I was a cat, the bloodlust—it wasn’t pretty.”

“But you didn’t give in, did you?” asked Flick. “You captured James—alive. You saved Tristam’s life. And you’ve stopped the demon cat invasions of the city. Aye, your bloodline got you in trouble, but it was also what got you out of this mess in the end. And now that you have one foot in with the Palace, and knowing what you do about the Guild and the Demon Riders, I think you could do a lot of good, if you wanted to.”

Kyra grimaced and smoothed out the wrinkles as best she could. She
wanted
to believe him.

“Do you think Bella would have loved you any less if she knew what you were?” asked Flick.

“I suppose not. Bella loved everyone,” said Kyra.

“And Idalee and Lettie, if they knew?”

“No, they would trust me even if it wasn’t good for them.”

“And does Tristam trust you less, knowing your secret?”

“Well, I did risk my life to save him.”

“Exactly. And what about me? Do I show any signs of running for the hills?”

Kyra smiled. “I guess I’m blessed with foolish—and forgiving—friends.”

“Mayhap we’re wiser than you give us credit for.”

Flick rooted around in his belt pack. “Here,” he said, taking out a scrap of parchment and a piece of charcoal. “Use these.”

Kyra accepted them with gratitude. Taking a deep breath, she wrote Bella’s name in clear, large letters. She knelt down to place it beside the others, but drew her hand back and looked at Flick. “She said she was proud of me, you know. As she lay—” She couldn’t bring herself to say
dying
. “Why would she say that, after I had just ruined everything?”

“She loved you, Kyra.”

Kyra lowered her eyes. She supposed that was all she needed to know. “Would you like to place it with me?” she asked.

Flick knelt and took a corner of the parchment. Together, they tucked it between two stones. They stood without speaking for a long time, lost in their own thoughts, before finally turning for home.