Chapter Twenty-One

WE HAD to tell the story multiple times.

The first time Prince Clesek simply listened. The tale required a lot of backstory in order for everything to make sense, so he heard about Jory’s disownment and subsequent life and about my disgraced expulsion from the city guards. To his considerable credit, the prince didn’t express disgust at any of it. He listened and drank wine, and when we emptied our glasses, he refilled them.

When the entire tale was done, Prince Clesek sat silently. Then he took a deep breath and let it out. “Tell me again,” he said. This time he asked a lot of questions. In the middle of it, he sent one of the guards for food, and although the meal was simple, it was the best I’d ever had.

My throat hurt by the time we finished the second telling, and Jory sounded hoarse as well. I wanted to curl up with him in a corner somewhere and pretend—for just a few precious hours—that the rest of the world didn’t exist. But we weren’t through yet. Prince Clesek told us to sit tight, and then he left the room.

I leaned back in my comfortable chair and closed my eyes. “Maybe he’s going to get people to kill us,” I said wearily.

“Maybe. I don’t think so.”

“Jory?”

“Yes?”

“You were really good today.”

He was quiet, so I opened my eyes to gaze at him.

“Good?” he finally asked.

“You fought Myghal and saved my life. You came up with a ludicrous plan to get us here and then pulled it off. You’re good at singing and fucking—that’s not news to you. But you have other talents too. You’re brave and smart. You should know that about yourself.”

He looked away, his jaw working.

We both jumped to our feet when the doors burst open. I had my hands on my knife hilts, but Prince Clesek held up his palms to stop me. “This is Talca Ruen,” he announced. “She is the only one I trust with my life.”

But my heart had stopped beating even before he said her name, because I recognized her immediately.

She didn’t wear a uniform anymore, just dark clothing, well made but practical and conservatively cut, apart from the velvet trim. Her hair had always been light blonde, but now it had paled completely to white. As always, she wore it short and fuss-free, much like I did.

Of course, Jory didn’t know she and I were acquainted, but our expressions must have given something away. “Daveth? What’s wrong?”

“Jory, meet… well, I don’t know her title anymore. When I was a guard, she was my captain.”

I think he groaned.

Prince Clesek, on the other hand, appeared thoroughly confused. “What am I missing here?” he demanded.

She turned to him. “Your Highness, Daveth Blyd is a thief and a murderer.”

“He’s neither!” Jory protested.

“He’s wearing Myghal Tren’s boots.”

“Myghal doesn’t need them any longer,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Because you killed him.”

“Actually,” Jory said, “that was me.”

She snarled and whirled to face the prince. “They’re both the worst kind of reprobates. River scum and a whore. They’ve concocted a wild yarn to cover for their crimes, and now they’ve come here in hopes of saving their skins.”

“That’s a lie!” Jory cried.

Prince Clesek looked confused and distressed. “You know these men?” he asked her.

“I know of Pearce. But yes, I know Blyd personally. He was under my command in the city guard. Even though he’s a Lowler—son of a whore, if I remember right—we gave him a chance. And he responded with petty theft. As we’d expect of his kind. He’s lucky we didn’t hang him. His sergeant took pity on him and pleaded for leniency. And now Blyd has repaid that mercy by killing the sergeant and posthumously accusing him of treason.”

“He told me about how he was expelled,” Prince Clesek said a bit uncertainly.

“He told you lies, I’m sure.”

I was tired of terrible revelations, but here was another one. I’d never be able to say anything to convince her—because she knew the truth already. Gods and goddesses, she’d been in league with Myghal all along.

I lifted my chin. “Why haven’t you killed him already? You have easy access to him.”

Her smile contained far too many teeth. “Because I needed someone else to take the blame for it. This hasn’t gone exactly as planned, but that’s all right. You’ll do quite nicely.”

And as the prince gaped in confusion, she grabbed his arm, yanked him close, and planted her knife squarely into his heart. He didn’t even scream. She simply yanked her blade free, tossed him aside, and faced me.

Captain Ruen had been an excellent fighter. Like me, she worked best with short blades. She was fast and strong and skilled at anticipating her opponent’s next moves. She would be a formidable adversary, especially now that I was exhausted, injured, and even a little drunk.

But I’d had enough of the whole game. As she stalked toward me, I pulled out both my knives and threw them at her: one, two.

If I missed, I was a dead man. Fine. Let Lady Death come for me at last.

I didn’t miss.

The first blade hit her in the chest, very near where she’d just stabbed the prince. The second landed in her throat. Her knife clattered to the floor and she fell beside it, clutching her neck and gasping wetly.

I left her to die and joined Jory, who’d run over to kneel beside Prince Clesek. I expected to find the prince dead too, and was shocked to see him sitting upright with Jory pressing a wad of cloth to his chest.

The prince pushed irritably at him. “Stop. That won’t do any good.”

“But the knife—” Jory began.

Prince Clesek made an irritated noise and ripped his tunic down the middle. What I saw underneath made little sense—his skin looked hard, dark, and shiny. A few drops of blood oozed through a small hole near his heart.

“What is that?” I exclaimed. Jory sat back on his heels and gaped.

“One of my experiments,” said the prince, rubbing at his chest. “A relatively successful one, as it turns out.”

“Experiment?”

“A spell to endow the skin on my torso with the qualities of an insect’s shell. My thought was that it would be like armor, only thinner and much lighter. It was uncomfortable at first, but I’ve become used to it. And now I’m thankful for it. Talca’s knife barely nicked me.” He looked down at his chest. “Although I daresay I’ll be sore for a day or two. And Talca… I had a good notion plots were afoot, but I thought I could trust her.” He looked as if he might cry.

But his eyes were dry as he hoisted himself to his feet. “I’m afraid I’ve no idea any longer where to place my trust. I believe you about the assassination plot—I’ve evidence before me—but I don’t know who to tell about it.”

He might have been the crown prince, but I felt sorry for him. I knew from extremely fresh experience how raw betrayal felt. And at least I didn’t have to worry about who to trust. I had confidence in nobody. Well, except Jory.

Jory stood, and the prince squared his shoulders. “You two have saved my life today, and I’m afraid I cannot reward you properly. I can’t even protect you.” He sighed. “Can’t even protect myself. I could tell people you’re innocent, but I have no way to know they’re not part of the plot as well.”

I understood his point. We might have successfully warned him, but as far as the rest of the city went, we were still wanted men.

“Sire, if you could give us just a bit of time and find us a way out of the castle, we’ll head directly to the West Gate. You’ll never see us again.”

He nodded. “Wise. Let me think.” He stroked his chin briefly before smiling. “I may have an answer.”

Jory and I were all ears.

“You know that mimic spell that Arthyen’s killer used? I know that enchantment.”

“Who will you make us resemble?” I asked.

Prince Clesek almost smiled.

OUR MAGICAL disguises got us out of the castle safely, and for that I was supremely grateful. As we descended the hill out of the Royal Quarter and through the Silver, we got plenty of stares because we still wore our exotic clothing. But nobody stopped us or tried to kill us. Which was refreshing.

Still, I found the entire business nearly as unsettling as necromancy.

My face felt odd indeed, and when I spoke it was in someone else’s voice, because that was part of the spell. That someone else was a member of the castle guard, a young man with, as far as my roving fingers could tell, protuberant ears and a bulbous nose.

But my face wasn’t my real problem. The problem lay in the shiver that overcame me every time I glanced at Jory. It was bad enough that he wore a corpse’s face—but the face belonged to Talca Ruen.

“Do I make a good woman?” he asked as we neared the Low. He had her voice as well.

“You’re flat-chested and your hips are narrow.”

“Maybe. But I have a nice ass.”

“And a dick,” I reminded him, although I didn’t know whether the mimic spell made his male parts momentarily disappear. Even the idea made me ill.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t be a woman,” Jory said. “Branok has one and she’s definitely a woman.”

I nodded to concede his point. “Fine. Women are lovely people, but I don’t want to sleep with them. Especially not women who’ve tried to kill me.”

“At this point, Daveth, half of Tangye has tried to kill you.”

“Only half?”

We’d left Prince Clesek with the real Talca’s body and, I assume, the need for some creative explanations. The guards who’d seen me and Jory leave with our false faces were going to wonder what in all hells was going on. Prince Clesek had apologized profusely for not being able to do more for us—he didn’t even have any coins to help us along, because apparently he rarely used money—but I figured he had plenty of his own worries anyway.

After a long silence, Jory spoke. “I’m glad we went to the castle. If Prince Clesek had been assassinated and we hadn’t even tried to warn him, I would have carried that guilt. I am capable of guilt,” he added defensively.

“You’re capable of a great many things.”

It was odd to walk through the Low wearing a stranger’s face and a foreigner’s clothes. Odder still to know I’d never return. I noticed a great many things anew, such as the pervasive smells, the pewter color of the sky, and the squalor of the buildings. But I noticed the people as well, and although they might wear rags, many of them possessed a quiet strength that was quite beautiful. Lowlers weren’t river scum—they were strong and proud. And even the ones who succumbed to drink or trance-drops, they’d been fighting battles since the day of their birth. They could be excused some human weakness.

The north bank of the river Tangye was quiet and lightly traveled. I didn’t see any scavengers because they preferred to work farther downstream.

The city wall and the Western Gate loomed ahead of us. And I noted, too, that the waters here—while still dirty—ran clearer than near my old home. The farther we walked, the cleaner the water and air. I could even watch the sky lighten and turn blue.

I’d never walked through the Western Gate. It was two gates, really, one for those arriving and one for departures. The openings were tall and wide, flanked by iron doors that would be closed and bolted at sundown. Several city guards stood at the entrance, even though nobody was trying to get in. Only one small man guarded the exit. Apparently Tangye didn’t care who left her.

As a result, we walked right out of the city with no fanfare at all.

And the strangest thing happened. I’d expected fear, anxiety, grief. But the more we walked, the lighter my heart felt. I’d been a bird in a cage my entire life, and never realized it until I flew out the door.

Jory sang—joyous notes of hope and promise.

An hour outside of Tangye, our faces and bodies resumed their natural forms, a true relief. I took a few minutes to trace fingers over Jory’s restored cheeks, brows, and lips. And for good measure, I pulled off the scarf he still wore and tangled my fingers in his sunshine hair.

“We’ll need to find a place soon to spend the night,” I said.

“We will. We’ll come to a village and I’ll sing for our room and board.”

Maybe he would. “And then we’ll need to make it over those mountains,” I said, pointing. They were formidable even from a distance.

“We’ll make it. We’re strong. We have our knives if we need to hunt our dinners.”

True. I’d retrieved mine from Talca’s corpse, and they now sat clean and comfortable in their sheaths. I would need to find a way to sharpen them soon.

“And when we get across the mountains, we’ll need to find a way to survive in a strange land without a briquet to our names.”

Jory smiled secretively. “Not quite.”

“Oh?”

He fumbled in his clothes a moment, pulled something out, and opened his hand to reveal it. On his palm lay a large ring. It was a gaudy thing with a thick gold band and an even thicker crust of gems.

“Lord Uren’s?”

“Not anymore,” he said.

“You told me you didn’t steal it.”

“I didn’t. Well, not exactly. It’s supposed to belong to the Pelglaze branch of the family, but Uren demanded it from my father in return for some concessions from the Undercouncil. I just… repossessed it.” He grinned. “I told you. The secret to a successful deception is almost believing in it yourself.”

I began to chuckle, which grew into laughter loud enough to echo off the rolling hills around us. Then I pulled Jory into a ravenous, delicious, jubilant kiss.

I didn’t know what lay before us. And I didn’t know if I’d ever solve the puzzle that was Jory Pearce. But I had a feeling I would have a damned good time finding out.