The Bloodbound (12 page)

He wasn't impressed by her bluster. “I'm not fond of giving out my name. It takes most of my employers years to earn the privilege.”

“How do you know me?”

“Hard to mistake hair like that, Lady Black. A word of advice: If you're in the business of spying, it's a good idea not to stand out.” He gestured at himself, as though to illustrate the point. “Next time, consider tucking those red tresses of yours under a hood.”

She did her best to look unruffled. “I'm not in the business of spying.”

His smile turned wry. “My mistake. Perhaps you just relish a drop of sour ale in the company of sellswords and swineherds.”

“You've been following me.”

“You couldn't have been more obvious if you'd dangled your banner from your belt. At least it was a fruitful evening. Tell me, who was he?”

“Who?”

“The assassin who accosted you on the road. I passed him on the way here, loitering about, advertising his purpose almost as loudly as you. He was going to offer you either his services or his sword. Judging by the blood on your arm, it was the latter.”

“And you made no move to stop him?”

The man's eyebrows flew up. “Me? Oh no, Lady Black. I'm not made for swordplay. Listening and learning, that's my trade.”

“So
you're
a spy.”

He bowed mockingly. “Who was he, then? The fool who tried to best the mighty Hero of Boswyck?” He smirked, in case Alix had missed the sarcasm.

“He neglected to introduce himself,” she said dryly.

“But you questioned him?”

She frowned.

“You examined the body, at least?”

Bugger and damn.

The man laughed softly, a smug, languorous sound like the purring of an old tomcat. “By all the Virtues, woman. You need me even more than I thought.”

In the space of a heartbeat, Alix had closed the distance between them and pressed her blade to his throat. The creak of bows sounded from the ramparts above as the Greenswords took her cue. “For the last time,
who are you?
”

The man peered down his nose at the hilt of Alix's sword. “Now that's a blunder on my part. Misread your temperament. It's a delicate business I'm in, Lady Black. Not much room for error.”

“Very true. Your next error will be fatal.”

“I've come all the way from Erroman to see you, so I'd be grateful if you at least heard me out before opening my throat.”

Alix backed off, but not much. She kept her blade raised.

He massaged his neck gently. “Word among fighting men is that the Raven quit the field in the heat of battle. Some call him a coward, but the way I heard it told, he was cool as mint when he sounded the retreat. Some in my trade wonder if the Raven hasn't taken it into his head to replace his brother.”

“Do they.”

“They wonder a lot else besides. There are whispers of civil war. Erroman is an orchard of whispers, Lady Black, and you need only a hand to pluck them for you, to see what seeds of truth you may find.”

“How very poetic.”

“I can help you. Let me be your eyes and ears in the capital. Never mind this backwater and its provincial gossip. I have connections at the highest levels of court and the lowest back-alley brothels. If you would know the Raven's mind—his ploys, his allies, his assassins—you have only to engage my services.”

Alix's lip curled. “You're a vulture, feeding on the misfortune of others.”

He shrugged. “I'm a man of enterprise, who knows how to match his talents with opportunity. Scorn that if you like. My feelings aren't delicate. But don't be too quick to turn away what I offer. You need it, else you wouldn't be leaving your king's side to swat hands off your arse at the Crooked Mast.”

She ground her teeth, but didn't rise to the bait. “How do I know you aren't working for someone else? The Raven, for example?”

“Good girl. Now you're thinking sensibly. The answer is, you don't. Treat everything you hear, including from me, with a healthy dose of scepticism. Tomald White is not known for his subtlety, but he has many admirers, some of whom may have a lighter touch. Always consider the possibility of deception.”

Alix hesitated. It
would
make sense to have a spy in their employ. She'd been thinking about it ever since Gwylim suggested it. She couldn't possibly trust this man, but he had the truth of it when he said that she shouldn't trust anyone, especially not someone good enough for the job. Any spy worth the name was inherently deceitful.

The man watched her chew over the dilemma. “If it will help you decide, let me offer you a sample of my wares. The assassin you killed tonight—the one you failed to interrogate—does it surprise you that he came after you on the road like that?”

She frowned, considering. “I suppose it does, now that you mention it. Even if he'd managed to kill me, it wouldn't have helped him get to the king.”

“No, it wouldn't. So either he was uncommonly stupid, or it wasn't the king he was after. Or perhaps a little of both.”

Something cold wrapped itself around Alix's gut, like a snake constricting around its prey. “Why would an assassin want to kill
me
?”

“I expect twenty crowns is enough to tempt many a man to make a trophy of your lovely locks.”

The cold thing constricted, leaving her queasy. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, the price on your head, offered to a certain guild of some renown. A pittance in comparison to what's on offer for His Majesty, of course, but enough. Fortunately for you, the guild doesn't seem to have estimated your skills very highly, or they wouldn't have sent such incompetents to do the job. I wouldn't count on them to make that mistake a third time.”

“A third time?” The answer came to her as soon as she spoke.
The assassin on the wall walk.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword. “Who hired them?”

“That I cannot tell you—at least not yet.”

“The Raven?”

“We can speculate, you and I, but that can be more dangerous than ignorance. Give me time, and a few crowns, and I will get you the information you need. Until then, be on your guard, and this time be serious about it. No more wandering alone and unarmoured, and no more rubbing shoulders with drunkards and sellswords. Don't leave your king's side for a moment, Lady Black, because the next assassin they send will be their best, you can count on it.”

He had her, and he knew it. There was no point in trying to pretend. She sheathed her sword, untied her coin purse, and tossed it at him. He caught it with a soft
chink
. “Go then,” she said. “Ride hard for Erroman, and I want to hear from you as soon as you arrive. We receive pigeons daily from Lord Green's estate to the west of the city.” Not that they ever brought anything useful, but maybe that was about to change.

The man bowed. “You won't be disappointed. I will write you within a fortnight. In the meantime, try not to get yourself killed.”

Alix stood in the moonlight and watched as the nameless spy vanished over the bridge.

“A
nd you just sent him off into the night?”

“Lord Green, please, lower your voice.” It was not as though Alix could keep the incident on the road a secret, but she preferred to tell the king in her own time, once she'd had a chance to think things through. Obviously, she should have considered that before she'd told Raibert Green. She had scarcely washed the blood from her face before she happened upon the lord of Greenhold, and like a fool, she'd blurted it all out. Now he was making a scene, right there in the corridor.

“He could have been anyone,” Green said, wearing a scowl that was half anger, half fear. “How do you know he wasn't in league with the man who tried to kill you? Awfully convenient, don't you think, that he should be waiting for you at the gates only moments later?”

“What's this commotion?” Erik appeared around the corner, four royal guardsmen in tow.

Alix cursed inwardly. “It's nothing to worry about, Your Majesty.”

“Olan's battered shield it isn't!” Green shook his head in exasperation. “Do you really think you can trust a word the man says? Like as not he'll fill your head with lies and herd you straight into a trap!”

Alix had never seen him so angry. Neither had Erik, apparently; he looked taken aback, his gaze alternating between Alix and Lord Green. “Will someone kindly tell me what in the name of the Nine we're discussing? What happened to your lip, Alix?”

Instinctively, she ran her tongue over the wound. Before she could think of a way to deflect the question, Raibert said, “She was attacked, Your Majesty, by another assassin.”

Erik's eyes flashed. “Where?”

“On the road to town. She was alone, without armour, and he set upon her. And after that, she saw fit to hire a spy who happened to be loitering outside the castle gates when she got back.”

Alix glared at Green as if he were a tattling sibling. Bad enough that he should make her sound like a fool in front of the king, but four of her own men were standing right there at the end of the corridor, trying their best to pretend they weren't listening to their commander being dressed down. “It all came out fine,” she said, glaring.

Green snorted. “Indeed.”

Erik frowned, and Alix experienced a flare of annoyance that he would look at her like that before she'd even had a chance to explain.
So much for deferring to my judgement.
“It's more complicated than it sounds, sire, as I was just attempting to explain to Lord Green.”

The king folded his arms expectantly.

“I went to the Crooked Mast, as we discussed this afternoon. I've made several such trips—”

“Against my advice,” Raibert put in, helpfully.

“—
without incident.
But this time, there was a man waiting for me on the road. He attacked me, and I killed him.” She breezed through this part of the story with a dismissive wave. “Then, as I was approaching the gate, there was another man waiting for me. A spy, as it turned out, come from Erroman to offer his services. We talked, and he convinced me that he could be of some use.”

“He convinced you.” Erik eyed her doubtfully.

“All it cost me was a few coins. And I'm not so stupid as to trust him blindly. I'll treat the intelligence he provides with caution—as he himself suggested I should.”

“Then what's the point?” Erik asked.

“If he's genuine, he could be extremely useful. He's already provided me with valuable information.”

Raibert rolled his eyes. “How can it be valuable, if you can't even trust it?”

Alix paused long enough to beg blessed Farika for patience. “Because, Lord Green, in this case there's nothing to be gained by a lie. On the contrary, it only puts us on our guard.”

“Let's hear this valuable information, then,” said Erik.

“An assassin's guild has been hired to kill you.”

Erik shrugged, but Alix wasn't fooled by it; his nonchalance was every bit as feigned as her own. “We knew that already, more or less. Whether it's a guild or a lone wolf, it makes little difference.”

“Maybe, but the spy claims you're not the only one they're after. They've put a price on me, too.” She would have said more, but the look that came over Erik silenced her.

“Lord Green.” He addressed Raibert, but his eyes were on Alix, ice-blue and furious. “Would you excuse us for a moment?”

“Certainly, sire.” Green bowed and took his leave, and Erik put his hand on Alix's elbow and steered her into the study, closing the door behind them. Alix cringed inwardly.

He didn't speak right away. Instead he stood with his back to her, seemingly collecting himself. At length, he said, “I'm trying to understand, Alix, how you thought it wise to do what you did today.”

“I told you where I was going.”

He whirled around. “But you left out a few choice details, didn't you? Alone, Alix? Without armour?”

She winced; she'd hoped those particulars had passed him by.
Damn Raibert Green.
“I didn't want to stand out. I wouldn't have learned anything if people knew who I was.”

“Reckless,” he growled, as though he hadn't heard her.

That got her back up. “I thought I was supposed to execute my duties in a manner befitting my judgement? Or was that just talk?” Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice mentioned something about Erik being
king
, but she brushed it aside.

He threw her a sharp look. “If this is your idea of good judgement, then perhaps it should have been just talk.”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, you weren't there.”

“No, I wasn't. I would never have put myself in that position.”

“Your Majesty.
Erik.
” She took a step closer to him, met and held his gaze. The part of her that had been bred for court shrank at this brazen display of impudence, but the captain of the royal guardsmen could not afford to blink. “If I am to protect you, I have to be allowed to follow my instincts. We've talked about this.”

“We've talked about the need for you to be independent. I never said anything about allowing you to behave rashly. It is completely unacceptable for you to risk yourself in that manner.”

“It's my duty to risk myself.”

“Not carelessly, Alix!” he cried, seizing her by the shoulders. “Not needlessly! What could you possibly have learned out there that was worth your life? Do you not know how valued you are? Do you not realise . . .” He trailed off, staring at her. She could only stare back, utterly at a loss. He sighed and shook his head. “You really don't see, do you? How can that be? It's not as though I've made any secret of it.” Even then, she might not have understood. But when he laid a hand against her cheek, there was no mistaking it. An unexpected flash of heat swept over her. It was more than shock. His touch ignited something in her blood, something she hadn't known was there. Her breath came faster.

He brushed his thumb over her lip, swollen from the assassin's blow. “You always were oblivious,” he murmured. “Too locked up in your own head to see what's right in front of you. Then again, perhaps I haven't been as plain as I thought. I can be plainer, if you'll let me.” He drew closer, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “May I kiss you, Alix?”

A delicious sort of panic bucked in her chest. She could feel herself shaking with it. She nodded numbly.

He was gentle at first, coaxing. Alix closed her eyes as a silvery shiver ran down her spine. There was something so familiar about his kiss, so
right
. She felt her arms going around him, felt herself sinking into his embrace. Encouraged, he gathered her closer and deepened the kiss. The soft glide of his tongue into her mouth brought a fresh wave of heat, like a shot of whiskey down her throat. Alix was overcome. She surged into him, breathless and heedless and soaring. He matched her fierceness with his own, pulling her flush against him, as if he could merge them right then and there. Her fingers tangled in his hair, rumpled the shirt at his waist. He lifted her suddenly and hoisted her onto the desk. She locked her legs around him as his mouth wandered under her jaw, over her throat, finding the tender place behind her ear. Through the roar of her blood, she heard him whisper, “
Allie.
”

She stiffened. Everything shattered. She pulled away, gasping.

For a moment she was too muddled to speak. She hopped down off the desk, hiding her face behind a curtain of hair. “I'm sorry.” Her voice trembled. “I don't think I'm ready for this.”

He was a credit to his breeding. “I understand,” he said, the words belied by the confusion, the disappointment, in his voice. “I didn't mean to push you.”

“I'm sorry,” she said again, and fled the room.

*   *   *

Holy flame of
Ardin. What have I done?

Alix stared up at the ceiling, watching the scene unfold again and again through the lens of her memory. It was as if she observed herself from afar, her actions framed by the dark wood panels as though she gazed upon a moving portrait. A portrait of Alix Black kissing the King of Alden.

The king.

Erik.

Oh gods . . .

Alix clapped her hands over her eyes, but it did nothing to stop to the imaginary play. It simply went on in her head: Erik reaching for her, his thumb ghosting over the wound on her lip. His voice, low and honeyed. His eyes, so impossibly blue, wandering over her face until they found her mouth.
May I kiss you, Alix?

She experienced it all over again—the flash of panic, the sudden thrill of longing . . . Even now, as she lay there, she could still feel him, his mouth and his arms and his body. And she
craved
it.

How did this happen?

It had taken her completely by surprise. Not just his desire, but her own. Especially her own. It couldn't have come from nowhere; it was too strong for that. It must have been there all along, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to ambush her. How could she not have realised?

She'd
noticed
him, of course. How handsome he was, how charming. What woman wouldn't be swayed by that breezy confidence, that dignity, that quintessentially masculine beauty? But he was her king, and later, the man whose life lay in her hands. She couldn't possibly allow herself to think of him as a romantic prospect. And then, of course, there was Liam . . .

Liam.

A low note of despair sounded from somewhere deep within.
I've betrayed him.
A small betrayal, maybe, but it could easily have been much more. Alix knew instinctively that things would have gone as far as she'd let them—and for a moment, she'd been inclined to let them get very far indeed. That was the
real
betrayal—not what she'd done, but what she'd wanted to do.

What I still want to do . . .

She put her hand over her chest, and her heart raced a little more, just to show its agreement.

And then, abruptly, her mind was back in the woods, with the cold night air and the warm weight on top of her, and a tiny ache throbbed inside. She'd transported herself to this place so many times, and it never lost its power over her. She missed Liam so badly. It was like having a piece of her carved away. She'd known it would be; she'd gone through it before, with Rig. Maybe that was why she'd pushed Liam so fast. She'd been afraid of losing him, as she'd lost so many of those close to her. And now he was gone, and Erik was here . . .

Is that all this is? Am I just replacing Liam with Erik?

Alix swore and rolled onto her side. Her country was at war, her king under threat of assassination, and she was lying here worrying about romance? “You're a disgrace, Alix Black,” she growled into her pillow.

She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and willed herself to sleep. It would be a long day tomorrow, and the day after that. She needed her rest.

When she finally drifted off, it was to the sound of leaves rustling in the forest.

*   *   *

Erik White stared,
unseeing, at the letter under his nose. The words on the page were little more than shadowy, meaningless scratches of ink. It did not help that the taper on the desk had slumped into a misshapen heap, its glow dwindling to a thin halo on one side of the parchment. With his back to the hearth, he could scarcely make out half the script. But that wasn't the real problem. The real problem stood ten paces behind him, in a discreet corner of the study, her presence tugging incessantly at nerves already taut with a thousand more kingly concerns.

He resisted the urge to turn around. It would only reveal his mind, and he had done quite enough of that already.
You should never have kissed her
, he thought ruefully. There was still a chance he could have talked himself out of this. Now . . .

Now it was too late. In a single unguarded moment, he had tipped his hand and sealed his fate. And yet if he had it to do over, he had no doubt he would kiss her again. That was how he knew he had wandered in deep. Too deep to ignore it, and too deep to wriggle out. All that was left to him now was to do something about it.

But perhaps that can wait until after the war, Your Majesty.
He rubbed his eyes and focused his attention back on the letter.

There is little doubt they are preparing to march
, the parchment told him,
but it seems only half the host readies itself. We have tracked a number of scouting missions looking to the east. It is impossible to know what the enemy is thinking . . .

Of course it was. One could never truly know another's mind, no matter how hard one tried. The gods knew Erik had spent enough time trying to guess what Alix Black was thinking. But all he had to go on was the kiss, and he hardly knew what to make of
that
. One moment, she'd been all passion and fire; the next, shaken and distraught. He had triggered something when he called her
Allie
, something that broke the spell.
Thoughts of her brother, perhaps, or someone else?
A riddle, to be sure, and until he solved it, he sensed it would be unwise to try again.