The roads had cleared of people, and the horses’ hooves crushed the fallen flowers lining the way to the castle. Despite Cyrene’s and Maelia’s best efforts to blend in, the people on the streets still smiled, waved, and curtsied as they passed. Being a spectacle in the city was a strange thing. In Byern, it wasn’t uncommon to see Affiliates out in the city. Albion had a diverse environment since it was on the shore, but the majority of the citizenry were Thirds.
About halfway to their destination, they passed a plain all-white pub with a swinging wooden door and a sign hanging on only one hinge from the framework. Rowdy customers caused a small crowd to form out front, and Cyrene and Maelia brought their horses to a halt.
“And stay out!” a guy cried. He pushed another man through the open door.
The man stumbled backward out of the bar and landed roughly on his hands and backside. His head dropped forward, and his hair fell into his face. A dust cloud sprang up, coating his already mussed clothing and settling into his hair.
“We don’t cut cards like that here!” the guy yelled.
The man slowly pushed off his hands and stood, facing the tavern.
Cyrene gasped when she recognized him. Ahlvie.
A smirk crossed Ahlvie’s face as he pocketed a small bag he’d collected from the ground and then dusted off his pants. “Good afternoon then.” He flourished a deep dignified bow, but it crumpled mid-bend, tipping him forward.
“You cheat someone else!” The guy slammed the door.
The crowd began to disperse, but Cyrene maneuvered their horses toward Ahlvie.
“Cyrene,” Maelia said, reaching out for her. “You know who that is?”
Cyrene nodded. After speaking with him, she hadn’t known if Ahlvie would actually go on the procession, so she hadn’t told Maelia.
“Only a few hours in the city, and you’re already making friends,” Cyrene said to Ahlvie.
“I have enough friends. It’s enemies I prefer to collect,” he replied.
“Well, you’re awfully good at it.”
“I haven’t scared you away yet.” He swept her the bow he hadn’t managed for the tavern owner. In that moment, he looked far less like the drunk he had appeared to be seconds before. He really was a cheat.
“Cyrene,” Maelia whispered frantically, “come on. Let’s go.”
“Just give me a minute.”
“Where are you fine Affiliates off to in the middle of the day?” Ahlvie asked pointedly. “The procession just docked, and I notice you’re riding His Grace’s horses.”
“Cyrene,” Maelia whispered again.
“It’s all right, Maelia.” She gave her friend a confident smile.
Cyrene dismounted and strode before Ahlvie. He was a good head taller than her, and she had to tilt her head up to look at him.
“I made it on the ship,” he said.
“So you did.”
“You spoke of freedom.”
“I didn’t expect you to make it aboard.”
“I said I would,” he responded gruffly, “and I always do what I say.”
“Always?” She narrowed her eyes. Maybe she should be second-guessing herself, but something about him reassured her.
“Always.”
“Fine,” she said, having already made her choice back in Byern. “Then you’re with us.” She knew he wasn’t a killer, and she might need a man where she was going. She gestured to her horse. “Help me back up.”
He laughed at her but hoisted her up onto her steed anyway.
“Maelia, this is Ahlvie. Ahlvie, this is Maelia.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ahlvie tipped his head to her.
Maelia smiled halfheartedly and glanced at Cyrene with an uneasy glint in her eye.
“If you give me just a moment, I’ll go get my horse.” He held up a finger when Cyrene began to speak. “One minute.”
Cyrene sighed as he rounded the corner of a building. She looked over at Maelia in apology.
“Cyrene, what are you doing?” Maelia demanded. “You know he killed Zorian and Leslin!”
“No, he didn’t. He was called in for questioning. That’s it.”
“You can’t trust him!”
“He’s helped me before.”
Maelia shook her head. “You’ve never even spoken of him to me.”
“I know. I know, but…”
Before she could finish, Ahlvie returned with a horse in tow. Maelia clamped her mouth shut and glared at Ahlvie.
“Where did you get him?” Cyrene asked.
“I didn’t steal him, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Ahlvie threw his leg up and over the horse. “Just spent some of my earnings.”
“The money you cheated people out of?” Maelia spat.
“I would never cheat anyone out of anything they didn’t already cheat themselves into from cheating others.” He tied the sentence around into knots that couldn’t possibly make sense. Then, he smiled at their confusion and heeled his horse into the lead.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Cyrene called.
“Well, wherever it is, no Second or Third is going to talk to either of you while you’re dressed like royalty, wearing your Affiliate pins, and prancing around on Albion-prized steeds.”
“Why?” Cyrene narrowed her eyes.
“Because, my fine Affiliate, these people lead different lives than you…or me,” he added grudgingly. “And you’ll only do more damage if you try to do everything your way. So, let me take the reins, and I’ll do what I do best.”
“Drink?” Cyrene quirked her eyebrow.
“There might be some of that. It helps.”
“I’m sure it does,” she said dryly.
“Tell me what you’re up to. You want out? Tell me how can I help you help me.” Ahlvie sent her a crooked smile.
“Cyrene,” Maelia said, reaching out and touching her arm, “are you sure?” Her voice dipped lower. “Can you trust him?”
Cyrene’s mind returned to that night when she had been trapped in that dark cave, and against all odds, she had somehow found her way out while bruised, scraped, beaten, soaking wet, exhausted, and most of all, angry. When Ahlvie had seen her in such a weakened state, he had never judged her. He had simply offered her assistance. Every interaction after that had made her see more and more that he was stifled and mistreated in his surroundings, and like her, he needed an escape.
“Yes,” she finally answered. She turned her attention back to Ahlvie.
He wore an old green shirt with patched elbows, dusty brown pants, and solid brown riding boots that reached his knees. He hardly looked the part of a member of the High Order. Perhaps he knew what he was talking about.
Cyrene quickly filled Ahlvie in on their plan—or at least the part that would directly concern him. He would have to get them out of Albion and on a ship bound for Eleysia.
As they continued forward at a leisurely pace, he listened, nodding along at some points and snorting at others. He mulled over the idea before taking a turn down a crossroad into a different Veda.
“Where are we going?” Cyrene asked.
“Following your plan. Just trust me.”
Maelia sighed loudly.
The horses’ hooves clattered against the cobblestones in the Veda, and after a few rather strange turns, they found themselves on a lane along the coast. When Cyrene’s eyes cut across the harbor, she found the giant procession ships off in the distance, and she frowned. They were even farther away from the docks than she had thought.
“What are you doing, Ahlvie?” she asked.
“Improvising.”
“This isn’t part of the plan.”
“We should just go back.” Maelia pulled back on her reins.
“Your plan made no sense. You want to get out of the harbor?” he demanded, staring down the two women.
They both stared back, stony-eyed.
“You’re not going near the King or the Duke or any other royal boats, not even close. So, listen closely. Do as I say, and we’ll be out of here faster than you could get to those ships.”
“What are you going to do?” she demanded.
He shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Make an inquiry.”
With that, Ahlvie continued forward down the lane.
“You’re the one who trusts him. You follow him,” Maelia spat.
Cyrene held back and leaned closer to Maelia. “Don’t be angry with me.”
“You invited him along without telling me! I don’t trust him, nor do I understand why you would.”
“Don’t you ever just know?” she asked.
“No.” Maelia looked away from her in frustration. “We aren’t supposed to just know. We are supposed to follow through with the plan as we set forth.”
“Life isn’t always like the Royal Guard, Maelia. Sometimes, you have to take risks to see outcomes! I’m taking my risk on Ahlvie. You took your risk on me.”
Maelia sighed. “This is your plan. You make it or break it.”
Cyrene nodded as her friend started forward after Ahlvie. They caught up with him as he stopped before a dirty narrow alleyway. He motioned for them to halt as well. He dismounted and tied up his horse to a post at the mouth of the alley.
“You should probably come with me,” he said to Cyrene. “Two of you might put them on edge, but one might give me some leverage.”
Cyrene hoisted herself off the horse and began to tie it up.
“You’re actually going to follow him?” Maelia asked.
“Please watch the horses,” she pleaded with her friend.
Maelia hopped down and tied up her horse as well. “If you’re not back soon, I’m going to come find you. If I don’t find you, I’m going to the King,” she pointedly told her and Ahlvie.
Cyrene flushed at the mention of Edric, and a knot formed at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t want a reminder that she was leaving him behind for this.
“Deal.” Cyrene lightly grasped her hand before following Ahlvie down the alley.
“Quite a trusting one, isn’t she?” Ahlvie glanced not so discreetly over his shoulder.
“Give her a reason to trust you.”
He shrugged noncommittally, and she sighed. “Just follow my lead, and don’t let on that I’m a High Order. Whatever I tell them, don’t act surprised. They’ll be looking for that.”
“Who exactly are they?” She crinkled her forehead.
“Doesn’t matter. An acquaintance but not one who freely gives information out. You’ll follow my lead?”
She nodded, wondering what she had gotten herself into.
“Don’t fight me.”
Cyrene swiftly turned around. “Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Hear what?”
“I don’t know. I thought I heard something.”
“Let me in.”
Cyrene jumped again. “I think maybe someone is here.”
“I don’t see anyone,” Ahlvie said, glancing around.
She shuddered at the creepy whispers she had heard. Where did I hear it before? She couldn’t remember, but with a killer on the loose and all the deaths leading back to her, she suddenly didn’t feel safe walking the streets.
“Let’s just hurry,” she told him.
They reached the end of the alley in a rush, and Ahlvie knocked on the door.
It swung open part of the way, and a fierce-looking woman with sharp eyes, straight long black hair, and a busty dark dress peered back at them. “What’s your business?”
“Haille Mardas at your service, Mistress Bellevue.” He bowed lower than any bow Cyrene had seen him give to the King or Queen.
“Did you say Haille Mardas?” She opened the door a little bit wider.
“In the flesh.”
“The last time I heard that name, you owed me five gold pences,” she said casually.
“Ah, such a misunderstanding.” He swept his hand into his pocket and retrieved a few things from the small bag. “But as it turns out, I have three Aurumian gold trinkets. If you consider, they are the same thing.” He removed the three square trinkets and showed them to her.
“Five Byern gold pences, Haille.”
“Four trinkets,” he countered, making another piece appear from thin air.
The woman snatched them out of his hand and stuffed them into her bodice. Cyrene tried not to appear scandalized.
“Come right in then. I do remember now. It was four Aurumian trinkets.”
“I thought you might.” He followed her through the door with Cyrene at his heels.
The room they entered was pitch-black, save for a few candles. They walked through that room and entered one only slightly brighter.
Two women with dark makeup passed them in low-cut corseted tops and revealing sheer skirts. Their hips swayed in an enticing dance.
One of the girls ran her hand along Cyrene’s shoulder. “Mistress, is she new?” the girl asked. Her dark eyes were hooded, and her lips were as red as blood.
“She is not,” Ahlvie said. He quickly removed the girl’s hand.
Cyrene stared at Ahlvie in disbelief. Where in the Creator’s name did Ahlvie take me? Are we in some kind of harem house?
The girl giggled and turned back to her friend. Mistress Bellevue arched an eyebrow, and they scurried away. She flicked a key into a locked door, and Cyrene kept her attention on that and nothing else. Ahlvie touched her arm, and Cyrene hastened after Mistress Bellevue. She escorted them up a small flight of stairs and into what appeared to be her private study.
The room had blood-red walls and furniture to match. Soft white pillows sat atop the two settees, and a delicate white desk looked striking against the contrast of the walls. A dozen or more wax candles were lit around the room, and black and maroon curtains had been pulled back just enough to cast some natural light in from the harbor beyond the window. It was stunning, if not so overdone.
“Feel free to have a seat.” Mistress Bellevue brushed aside her long skirt and sat on the divan facing the window. When she crossed her legs, her skirt fell over her knee, revealing a thigh-high slit and more leg than Cyrene deemed appropriate.
“I believe I’ll stand.” Ahlvie gestured for Cyrene to sit down across from her, which she did.
“Who is your charming friend, Haille?” Mistress Bellevue asked.
“An Affiliate seeking counsel. She wishes to remain anonymous, which I’m sure you can understand. She came to me seeking answers, and I have half the knowledge that you and your master possess.”
“Hmm.” She cocked her head to the side and stared at Cyrene. “An Affiliate, you say? Yes, I see the pin right there on her breast, displayed like a prized jewel.” She smiled coyly. “What sort of answers can I give you?”
“We’re simply looking for a tidbit of information from your master.”
“He’s not in,” she responded.
“We’re on a tight schedule. Do you think you could check the dock schedules yourself?” Ahlvie asked.
“The dock schedules?” Mistress Bellevue considered it. She raised her hand, palm up, and waited.
Ahlvie grumbled something under his breath that Cyrene didn’t catch and then pulled out another Aurumian trinket from his purse. “Far too much,” he said. “We’re looking for any ship bound for Eleysia, preferably direct.”
“I will see what I can do.” She slid the other trinket into her corset and then rose.
She left through a side door Cyrene hadn’t noticed earlier. As Cyrene opened her mouth to speak with Ahlvie, he silenced her with a shake of his head.
A moment later, Mistress Bellevue returned with a small piece of paper in her hand. “You’re in luck.”
Ahlvie approached her and said something swiftly in a low voice that Cyrene couldn’t pick up from the distance. He snatched the piece of paper out of her hand when she responded with a cackle.
“I do hope to see you soon, Haille. You’re always so much fun.”
“Let’s go.”
He grabbed Cyrene’s arm and dragged her through the strange house. Soon, they were back out under the afternoon summer sun in the deserted alleyway. Maelia was pacing a path into the dirt next to the horses and jumped when she saw them exiting the house.
“You’re back,” she chirped when they reached her. “What happened?”
“Can we get away from here first?” he asked, untying all their horses as swiftly as possible.
“What? Why?” Maelia asked, glaring at him.
“Maelia!” The tone of Cyrene’s voice made Maelia immediately get on her horse.
They followed Ahlvie away from the strange alleyway. They made it to a small tavern, The White City Pub, before Ahlvie stopped his horse.
“We’re going in there?” Cyrene glanced around. “Isn’t there somewhere else we could go?”
“We can talk in here without risk of being overheard.”
Cyrene and Maelia apprehensively glanced at each other before sliding off their horses and following Ahlvie. The pub looked the same as any reputable place Cyrene had set foot in in Byern with its low-beamed ceilings, a half-dozen wooden tables, and wine and beer kegs resting behind a bar. A full-bodied woman in a brown-and-white apron poured drinks, placed them on trays, and carried them out to the few patrons seated in the establishment. The men spoke jovially to the woman, and they all seemed to be friends.
The trio took over a table near the empty pitted fireplace.
The woman almost immediately came to their side. “Afternoon,” she said, leaning against their table with the tray propped up on her hip. “What’ll ya have?”
Ahlvie ordered a mug of beer, but the two Affiliates declined service. When Ahlvie had his beer in hand, he extracted the piece of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table.
“What does it say?” Cyrene asked impatiently.
“It seems there have been problems in the harbor,” Ahlvie told them. “They’re not allowing passage into Eleysia unless on an Eleysian vessel.”
“What?” they both asked at once.
How ridiculous.
Sea travel had never been tightly guarded, and anyone was allowed passage, if they could pay the fare.
“We’re in luck though. It appears there is one Eleysian ship in dock with plans to leave tonight.”
“In the dark?” Maelia asked.
“Eleysian voyages traditionally begin at night. Seriously, do neither of you read?” he asked condescendingly. “If we want to be on that boat, we need to find the captain and make arrangements now. There’s no other one for at least a fortnight unless you count the Eleysian royal ship coming into port.” Cyrene opened her mouth to say something, but Ahlvie shook his head. “No. We’re not considering the royal vessel. That would be impossible to get on, and we could go there and be back by the time they allow another ship to leave port.”
“So, tonight then?” she asked. She hadn’t thought it would all come together so soon.
“Tonight,” Ahlvie confirmed.
“But I don’t have any of my things,” Cyrene told him.
“We can get things once we get there,” he told her impatiently.
“I’m sorry. There are things I need from the castle that I can’t leave behind,” Cyrene said softly.
She had thought that many more ships would be leaving for Eleysia and that they would have enough time to get their belongings from their rooms. They hadn’t had access to their bags since someone else had unloaded the ship. The book, the letter…she couldn’t leave without them.
“Well, hurry now then. If you rush, I think you can make it. Meet me at the docks by sundown with your things, and I’ll have made the arrangements.”
Cyrene nodded, rising from the table alongside Maelia.
“Cyrene,” he called before she could disappear, “don’t be late.”