Sins of a Wicked Princess (6 page)

“It’s not necessary.”

But her maid had already slipped past her.

Juliana sucked in a breath to explain Ian even though she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say. “I—” She turned toward the bed.

Not even a wrinkle marked where Ian had been.

Chapter Eleven

W
ell, that had been an evening Ian didn’t want soon repeated. It felt as though his innards had been twisted up in knots.

The last thing either of them needed was for him to forge any sort of lasting bonds between them.

She was a bloody princess.

There wasn’t anything linking them together once this task was done. At some point, she’d grow weary of his little parlor tricks and kick his sorry arse to the gutter.

It was far better that he never give her that chance.

Four more days.

Ian kicked at a foul puddle in the street, not caring when it splattered over his boots.

A shadow scurried a little too quickly to his right.

The hilt of his knife slid smoothly into the palm of his hand.

“It’s Apple,” a small voice whispered. “Can I come out or are you going to gut me afore I can tell you what I came to tell you.”

Ian sheathed his knife. “I thought you’d be smart enough to take the escape I gave you from all of this.”

The girl stepped into the dim light; her dirty face was even filthier, her hair hanging in lank strands. “I’ve been scouting the place out.”

The girl was clever, he’d give her that. “It’s safe. You should go. Or I have rooms at The Albany. Stay there. I have no use for them.”

“Me? In the bloomin’ Albany? They won’t let me in the coal cellar.”

“If you can’t find a way in, then you don’t deserve to stay there. It’s better than living in a rubbish heap—as you have apparently been doing.”

Apple crossed her arms. “Let’s see if you’re still complaining after hearing what information I brung you.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“There’s a good deal of blunt being offered for your death. Over a hundred pounds, if the stories are right.”

A fortune on these streets. “Why didn’t you off me? You found me easily enough.”

She shrugged. “That place you rescued us from . . .” Her hands balled into fists. “I don’t like owing anyone.”

Hell, she might be smart enough for the streets, but nobility would get her killed just as quickly as stupidity.

“Who’s offering the money?”

“Don’t know. But there are two other bounties being offered. One on a bloke named Cipher and one on that light skirt Madeline Valdan what got herself married to the Runner. They mates of yours?”

Someone had just made a very foolish mistake. One that would cost him his life. “No.”

But Apple’s eyes were far too knowing. “So you say. But from what I hear there’s many who are mighty interested in taking that reward. I wouldn’t venture very far into the darkness. Your reputation might keep a few away but these are desperate times and all.”

Ian took his purse from his pocket and handed it to her. “Where do the killers go to get their money if they are successful?”

She hefted the bag. “Grimwald’s tavern.”

Ian knew of it. More deals were brokered there every day than in an entire week on the Exchange. Yet Ian had never had a reason to go there.

It was time that lapse was rectified.

I
f only he were the type to go in, bash some heads together, and demand answers. Instead, Ian was crouched in Grimwald’s bedroom, waiting for the old man to retire for the night. As soon as Ian had delivered warnings to both Madeline and Clayton, he’d come to the room in the back of the tavern.

Unlike the office where the money was kept, Grimwald’s private rooms had been laughably easy to enter.

A quick search of the room had given Ian everything he needed to know about Grimwald.

The man valued two things—his tavern and his grandson. Henry, by the name on the bottom of the drawing.

Juliana probably thought he’d never dream of threatening a child. She looked at him with bloody stars in her eyes. Unfortunately, he’d done far worse in his time as a spy. He’d carried out the worst jobs assigned to the Trio. He’d volunteered time and time again. He’d even done several nasty assignments he’d never told the others about.

Not that he’d enjoyed them. Slitting throats was never pleasant business. And some of the information he’d gleaned in interrogations would have been better left in the darkness.

But Madeline and Clayton had been spared.

And even after everything they had done, the other two still practically stank with goodness and nobility.

It was rather a point of pride with him that the other two managed to survive their time as spies with their humanity intact.

If his had been sacrificed, well, it was worth it.

Not that he’d actually hurt the child, but if need be, he’d threaten Grimwald with it.

However, when possible, he tried to avoid too close a kinship to the devil, so Ian finished pouring the lamp oil over the floor.

Soon enough, Grimwald opened the door and walked inside. Confusion played over the man’s face as he tried to identify the smell. The moment he did, Ian lit a candle.

“Close the door.”

When Grimwald hesitated, Ian lowered the candle toward the floor.

Grimwald shut the door. “What do you want?” His fleshy face was twisted in a sneer.

“Who wants Wraith dead?”

Grimwald shrugged. “No clue.”

Ian lit a small puddle of oil.

“Wait!” Grimwald cried. “I don’t know. He’s using one of me drop boxes.”

Ian stomped out the small flame. “Explain.”

“I’ve got these boxes, and if a gent wants a job done, he puts his request in one of the boxes. When the job’s done, he can put the money there for his man to pick up. Then there’s no need for them to ever meet face-to-face. Safer that way.”

“But someone has to buy the box.”

“They only have to leave a guinea on the box and it’s theirs. I mark the ones in use with a red dot. I ain’t fool enough to keep all that information in me head.”

The man was a genius. He must make a fortune. Ian lit another small puddle and used Grimwald’s panic as a diversion as he slipped back out into the night.

Clayton and Madeline should be able take care of themselves against the riffraff that would be going after them. But as Ian well knew from the knife wound in his back, occasionally even riffraff could get lucky.

Grimwald might be useless, but Ian knew someone who would be far more informed.

His princess was finished keeping secrets.

Chapter Twelve

J
uliana’s eyes shot open. Her body flashed with the icy tingles that came from being jolted awake.

An echo rang in her ears. But as she froze in her bed, she could hear nothing. It was too dark for it to be the maids. What had she heard?

“You left your blasted cups by your window?”

Ian.

“What are you doing here?” She was too groggy to be polite, even if he looked fierce and intense and so exhausted she wanted to pull him into bed with her until morning.

“Who gave your brother the information on the Trio?”

She sat upright. “I never said it was—”

“It was rather ridiculously simply to verify.”

Something in his expression made her wary. “You promised you wouldn’t go after him.”

“I’m here talking to you rather than him, aren’t I? And you might as well drop that sheet. I see you in your night rail every night.”

She
was
clutching the sheet to her chest. She let it fall and swung her feet out over the edge of the bed. She suspected this wasn’t a discussion she’d want to have lying down. “We had a deal. You train me,
then
I tell you.”

“The deal is void.”

His tone was so emphatic, she rather expected him to cross his arms and glower. Instead, he sank down beside her on the bed. Before she could think better of it, she scooted closer, and rested her hand on his knee. “What happened?”

He stared at her hand but didn’t remove it. “Someone wants me dead. Not surprising, but they also want my friends dead. That I will not tolerate. Someone put a price on their heads tonight.” His sigh was low. “Gads, but I grow weary of this.”

“Who wants them dead?”

Oh.

She felt like an idiot. “Hence why you are here.”

“Precisely.”

“What about the papers I need to retrieve?”

“I’m sorry. I no longer have the time to play schoolmaster. Your love letters will have to wait.”

She jerked her hand back. “Love letters? Is that what you think I’m doing?” She stood and walked to the window. “You aren’t the only one with lives in the balance.”

Ian followed her, his face cloaked in shadows. “Just tell me who betrayed their identities and I’ll be on my way.”

“No.” She couldn’t believe the word came out of her mouth.

Ian stiffened. “To which part?”

“Both.” She held up a hand. “And do not growl at me. I will offer you the information you seek tonight if you will continue to help me.”

“I don’t like being denied, Princess.” He drew his knife.

She fought to keep her face smooth as he’d taught her earlier. She really knew nothing about Ian. She suspected he was much more dangerous than he allowed her to see.

Yet somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

He stepped closer to her with the knife. “Aren’t you going to cower?”

She shrugged. “No.”

“I’m not a good man, Princess. I’ve killed many, many people.”

Princesses didn’t back down. “But you won’t kill me.”

He stepped close enough that she could finally see his eyes. They were dark with something she couldn’t read. He drew the hilt of the knife down her cheek. The steel was smooth and warm from his fingers. “Why would you believe that?”

“Because you’re not a monster.”

His laugh was sharp, bitter. “Many people would argue that point.” But after a long moment he sighed and sheathed his knife. “What is this deal?”

“We’re both after the same man. The man you seek is also the man who holds my documents.”

“Your lover is the one who betrayed us?”

She shoved him. “Are you dense? I said it wasn’t love letters. The man is blackmailing someone close to me. I need to get the evidence he holds.”

If anything, his expression darkened further. “Who, Jules?”

“The Duke of Sommet.”

Ian fell back a step. “Son of an eel bastard.”

I
an’s world tilted slightly before it righted itself.

Sommet.

Why the hell hadn’t he forced her to tell him earlier? If Sommet had her papers, she took her life into her hands trying to retrieve them.

Quite literally.

There wasn’t real organization within the Foreign Office, just a collection of groups run by various interests. But Sommet managed to have his web spread over all of them, pulling strings and arranging outcomes from shadows even darker than Ian’s own.

It was said the prince regent didn’t take a piss without Sommet’s permission.

Ian may have killed dozens, but Sommet was said to have wiped out entire cities, platoons, countries.

“What the devil are you into?” he asked.

“I cannot tell you.”

“Does it have to do with your fool brother?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” But her hesitation had been as good as a yes.

“So what is your plan then? How do you intend to get us close?”

“He’s hosting a house party to which I’ve accepted an invitation. I had intended to leave at the end of the week. You can come along as one of my party.”

“One of your servants.”

Her cheeks darkened. “Unless you can think of a better option.”

Ah, the refreshing sting of honesty. “No. I’ve always fancied being a royal footman.”

“We can leave the day after tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

“Impossible. Do you know how difficult it is to move a household of this size? The day after tomorrow will still be difficult. I have meetings that must be moved. Engagements that must be rescheduled.”

“Sommet won’t be surprised when you show up early?”

“His house party has already begun. But I delayed going because I want to spend as little time with the man as possible.”

Ian had never been one to talk anyone out of anything. To each rat its own hole. But he found he couldn’t let Jules traipse into that house. “Sommet is dangerous. He just ordered my death. You may wish to rethink trying to steal from him. It won’t be easy.”

“Do you truly think that will sway me?” She stalked toward him. “How did you get it in your head that my life has been easy?” She stopped inches from him.

Despite the crease along one cheek from her pillow, he still had to fight the urge to retreat.

“You of all people should know. I was twelve when
your friends
toppled my country. When the people they stirred up into a riot stormed the palace and shot my mother and father.”

Ian had thought nothing of the death of another king and queen. But now— No. He wasn’t about to become all maudlin and regretful. He’d done what he’d been ordered to do.

But he’d hurt
Juliana
.

That knowledge was fresh and new. And it burned as if someone had taken a hot poker to his gut.

“The only reason they didn’t murder me and my brother was that they’d already set the palace on fire, and they feared for their own necks.” She paused to suck in a deep breath.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes practically blazing. Someone should hang him for even daring to be in her presence.

“You may have been a spy, but I’ve spent the last twelve years ruling an entire country from half a continent away while everyone around me tries to wrest it away. So don’t you
dare
speak to me about difficult.”

He wanted to pull her to him. He wanted to curse her for this stranglehold she’d somehow placed on him, lashing him to her.

Instead, he applauded slowly.

The fire drained out of her, but rather than leaving her fragile, it left her tempered steel. “Sommet may have threatened your friends, but he has threatened my family and my kingdom. I will stop him.”

He should walk away now. He could find out what blasted things she needed from Sommet and retrieve them himself. He didn’t need her to get into Sommet’s house. He’d breached far more secure strongholds.

Yet somehow, no matter his assurances of help, he doubted he’d be able to convince her to stay away. And if he couldn’t keep her from danger, he was damned well going to keep close.

He bowed smartly like the servant he was about to become. “You have yourself a new footman.”