Spy's Honor

She should not stay here alone, but to join the battle herself would be idiotic. She was not trained for combat. Her mind magic was defensive and required close contact. Someone would shoot her before she could get near enough to use it.

She would go to Lucien. He was crippled, but still a war mage. Between the two of them, they could defend themselves if a party of soldiers broke through the defenders.

She ran for the door to her suite but stopped short when a shadow loomed within it.

“Going somewhere?” Augustan leaned into the doorway. Fingers of red and blue lightning crackled, running along the door frame.

He’d set off her enemy ward. Why? She took a step back.

Augustan shifted so his body blocked the entire doorway. “Aren’t you happy to see your beloved fiance?”

Her fear only increased his power over her, yet she couldn’t still her trembling. She took a deep breath. “I knew there would be some soldiers too cowardly to fight at the front gates, but I didn’t expect you to be one of them.”

His expression darkened. Then he smiled and sauntered into the room, dragging the heavy door closed behind him. “Do you wish me dead, Princess? Have no fear. Your wish will be granted. I will fight and die with the rest of our forces, once I finish here.”

Finish what? She backed away, taking one step for each he took toward her. “What do you mean, fight and die? Will our soldiers not prevail?”

Augustan laughed. “Prevail? When we’re outnumbered two to one, both in regular troops and mages, and the palace is indefensible?”

“The invaders are going to take the palace?” Horror washed over her so thickly that she forgot her fear of Augustan. How could this happen? She’d always felt safe in the palace. Her uncle was the Kjallan emperor. He controlled the largest and best-disciplined army in the known world. Her enemies had always been political rivals; the people around her, other Kjallans. Never had she imagined that she and her family would fall into the hands of foreign enemies.

What would they do to her? To Lucien, to Florian, to little Celeste? To all the people she loved?

Augustan grabbed her arm, and she cried out in surprise. Reflexively, she flung a confusion spell at him, but it flittered away, useless. War mages were immune to her magic.

“Yes,” he said. “They will take the palace.”

“But we have reinforcements on the way! Didn’t we send word from the signal towers?” She tugged at her arm. It was firmly held.

“The fleet’s three days out. Ground troops are even farther.”

“What can the invaders accomplish by holding the palace for only three days?”

“Bloodshed, looting, and murder. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” He dragged her, stumbling, into the bedroom.

“Of course not!” What did he mean, what she wanted? And why was he hauling her in here? Surely he wasn’t after sex. No. More likely he meant to kill her. She could see it in his eyes.

“You engineered it, traitor.”

“What?”

He shoved her against the bedroom window, pinioning her arms and mashing her nose into the glass. “Look,” he growled. “Look what you’ve wrought.”

It was all blackness out the window. “I can’t see a gods-cursed thing.”

He yanked her away. “Jan-Torres the shroud mage is at the head of that army. The Mosari king along with a horde of Sardossians.”

“The Mosari king is a shroud mage? Aren’t the Mosari kings usually war mages?”

“Usually,” said Augustan. “This one’s an anomaly. That’s not the point.”

Jan-Torres the shroud mage. Could it be? Surely not. “So the Mosari convinced the Sardossians to join with them in attacking us. What does that have to do with me?”

“We sent an attack fleet up the Neruna Strait to Sarpol just days ago. The Sardossian fleet could not possibly have known about the attack by now, unless your Mosari spy told them. The one you set free. Traitor.”

“No! That is not possible.” She tried to pry his fingers off her arm, without success. “He could not have known! We used a forgetting spell on him and exiled him to Dori. There was no danger of—no, it could not have happened.”

“It did happen. In all likelihood, your pet spy is in the midst of that army right now.”

Rhianne looked out the window again. Was Janto somewhere in that blackness? Was it wrong of her if she hoped he was? Better that than dead or stranded on gods-cursed Dori. But she was not a traitor. Lucien had taken precautions.

“Perhaps he’ll spare your life,” Augustan sneered. “Perhaps he’ll make you his mistress when all is said and done. Think he’ll keep you to himself or share you with the rest of the army?”

She stared at him, shocked. He didn’t know Janto at all.

“Fear not, Princess,” said Augustan. “I won’t let it happen.” He hauled her to the bed and shoved her down onto it. She struggled furiously, but he climbed atop her, pinning her arms.

She looked up at him with a sinking feeling. “What are you doing?”

“Administering a little justice,” he said grimly.

She gave her pinned arm a wrench and tried to twist away from him, but he was bigger and stronger. She couldn’t break his grip.

“It must be done,” said Augustan, running his eyes over her. “You’re a traitor, and none of us are getting out of this alive—least of all you. Consider this the first and last of my husbandly duties.” He brought a hand to her throat. “Wish I could make it last, pretty one, but I’m needed back at the front.”

“Augus—!” His hand began to squeeze, and she could not finish the word. Or breathe.

Augustan’s face became very intent.

Her chest heaved in short, unfinished gasps that brought little air. She writhed and struggled, clawing at him with her free hand. Before long, her lungs burned. As she weakened, Augustan moved his other hand from her arm to her throat, adding to the pressure. Her vision blackened around the edges.

It was only after the blackness was complete that she heard the pistol fire.

32

When Augustan’s sword scraped from its sheath, Janto knew he’d missed. He dropped the spent pistol and drew his own blade, then glanced at Rhianne, who lay coughing and gasping on the bed.

Augustan pointed his sword at Janto and walked toward him through the tendrils of smoke. “Can’t see you. But I know you’re there.”

He could escape Augustan if he wanted to. The man couldn’t see through his shroud; he could only, through his war magic, sense impending danger. As long as Janto was a threat to him, Augustan would know his location. If Janto ceased to be a threat, Augustan would cease to know.

Then, of course, he would finish killing Rhianne.

Janto shook with rage. Augustan hadn’t just put his hands on Rhianne; he’d been trying to strangle her. And he’d nearly succeeded. Somehow Janto had to keep Augustan engaged long enough to allow her to escape, and at the moment she looked too weak to stand.

He backed away slowly, holding his sword at the ready, and glanced behind him at the archway. In the sitting room, there would be more room to maneuver.

Augustan followed, leering. “Janto, is it? Our Mosari spy, who returned with an army at his back? I’m glad you came. Now we can settle this in person.”

Janto slipped through the archway into the sitting room. Jump clear and hide, he ordered Sashi. The ferret leapt from his shoulder and scampered beneath a settee. Looking around, Janto