Spy's Honor

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know you. You don’t want bloodshed any more than I do. You’ve got to convince your commander to call this off. Do you know how Florian responded to the fish riots in Riorca? And that was nothing compared to this!”

He grimaced. She believed he was a hapless participant in this attack. What would she say when she learned he was the man who’d orchestrated it? As he looked into her earnest, worried face, a confession half rose in his throat. But his courage failed him, and he swallowed the words. He’d tell her later. First he had to get her to safety.

Up ahead, a pair of Mosari soldiers stood guard at the end of a narrow corridor. Thank the gods. Still shrouded, he ran past them with Rhianne into a larger hallway that lay beyond. He saw a familiar face.

“San-Kullen,” he called, releasing the shroud.

The war mage and the group of soldiers he’d been speaking to started, their gear and weapons jangling as they took in his unexpected presence. They looked equally surprised at seeing Rhianne.

San-Kullen dipped his head and came forward. “Jan-Torres. Sire.”

Rhianne’s hand tensed within his own. She knew a fair bit of the Mosari language and had not failed to note the significance of the title. Or perhaps it was the name. Janto kept his eyes on San-Kullen, afraid of what he might see on Rhianne’s face if he looked at her now.

“You’re wounded,” said San-Kullen, his curious eyes moving from Rhianne to Janto’s blood-soaked shoulder. “You need a Healer.”

“So does she,” he said, indicating Rhianne, “and Sashi. How goes the battle?”

“The worst fighting was at the southern gate, where we ran into soldiers in orange uniforms with a sickle and sunburst on them—”

“The Legaciatti,” said Janto.

“Fierce, fierce fighters,” said San-Kullen, shaking his head. “We lost a lot of men, but we overcame them. There was some ugly fighting at the servants’ entrance, but that’s over now, and resistance is scattered. There’s a team securing the north wing. We’re waiting on reinforcements, and then we’ll start on this one.”

“Have you got the emperor?”

“We do,” said San-Kullen cheerfully. “And unharmed. His guards didn’t put up much of a fight. I don’t think they’re very fond of him. We’re still looking for the son, the daughter, and the niece. Also, there’s a group of Kjallans who’ve barricaded themselves behind a door upstairs.”

Janto nodded. “This is the niece, so you can stop looking for her. I’ll—”

Rhianne’s hand slipped out of his own. He turned to see her flying from him, her syrtos billowing around her ankles, heading back in the direction they’d come.

“Rhianne!” he cried. Then to the guards, “Stop her!”

The guards shifted position to block her from the corridor. She did not slow but ran straight for them. They stumbled off to either side, allowing her through. Janto was perplexed and furious until he saw the guards’ faces and recognized that dazed look he’d seen on Micah.

He ran after her himself, but after a few steps, he stumbled, too weak from his injury to catch up, and stared helplessly at her retreating figure. Images formed in his mind: Rhianne shot by one of his overzealous guards at the back gate; Rhianne caught by a band of troops, dragged into a room and raped.

A hand settled on his shoulder. “I’ve got her,” said San-Kullen. A brown and black streak flew after her in pursuit.

“Don’t let your cat hurt her.”

“Don’t worry,” said San-Kullen. “Marci velvets her claws.”

Janto clenched his fists.

The cat leapt past Rhianne, turned in midair, and landed facing her, hackles up, claws out, lips drawn back to reveal long, gleaming fangs.

Stop there, Rhianne, pleaded Janto.

Rhianne skidded to a stop and froze before the snarling feline.

San-Kullen’s eyes were bright with affection for his familiar. “Nothing to it.” He walked toward the pair, leisurely and unthreatening. He returned, gripping Rhianne’s arm. The cat, now calm, padded along behind them.

As Rhianne entered the larger hallway, Janto ran to her. “Rhianne, I can ex—,” he began.

“You gods-cursed liar!” she cried hoarsely, twisting in San-Kullen’s grip. Grimacing, San-Kullen moved behind her and seized both her upper arms. But that didn’t stop Rhianne from raging at Janto. “Augustan told me you were responsible for the attack. What a fool I was not to believe him. You made a traitor out of me!”

Horror trickled through him. Could he ever make her understand why he’d done this? “Rhianne, I—”

“I sold myself,” she hissed. “For the price of your life, I would have gone to the marriage bed with Augustan. And you came here with an army at your back to murder and pillage everything that matters to me?”

He blinked, trying to formulate a satisfactory answer. He didn’t have one.

“I’ll kill you!” she shouted, wrenching one of her arms loose from San-Kullen’s grip. “In the Soldier’s name, I swear I’ll kill you!” She lunged for him.

San-Kullen twisted Rhianne’s other arm until she cried out in pain, and neatly recaptured the first. He twisted both until she gasped and stopped struggling.

Janto shook his head firmly. “San-Kullen, don’t do that. She won’t hurt me.”

“The hell I won’t!” Rhianne cried.

There was a hitch in her breathing that suggested she was hurting somewhere. Janto longed to go and comfort her, but he didn’t dare.

“What shall we do with her?” asked San-Kullen.

Footsteps approached at a run. Tensing, Janto turned toward them, along with every other soldier in the room, but they were only fresh Mosari soldiers. “Looks like your reinforcements are here.”

“Good,” said San-Kullen. “And the prisoner?”

He looked sadly at Rhianne. Prisoner. He supposed she was. He could not explain himself to her now. The palace was not yet secure, and he was losing blood.

The new soldiers stared at Rhianne with predatory interest.

“You have rooms set aside for prisoners?”

San-Kullen nodded.

“Prepare one for her. I want a guard on her day and night—”

“I want to be that guard,” someone muttered behind him.

Janto whirled, only to see carefully schooled expressions of innocence on all the soldiers’ faces. “Two guards,” he amended. “The most trustworthy men you have. This lady is the emperor’s niece, a Kjallan imperial princess. It is essential to our plans that she not be harmed.” He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every soldier. “If any man harms this woman, despoils her in any way, or even threatens her, he shall be hanged. Is that clear?”

“Understood, sire,” said San-Kullen. “Is she zo?” He glanced at the dazed guards, who were beginning to recover their wits.

“She’s magical, yes. A mind mage.”

“Then we have to take her riftstone. Unless you intend to guard her with zo.”

Janto sighed. “We can’t spare zo. We’ll have to take the riftstone.”

San-Kullen shifted his grip so he was holding both her arms in one hand. Then he reached for the chain around her neck. Rhianne arched away, avoiding him, and aimed a backward kick at his groin. San-Kullen blocked it with his knee and twisted her arms again until she winced and was still.

Janto couldn’t stand it. “Release one of her arms,” he ordered.

San-Kullen pursed his lips in disapproval but obeyed.

Janto stepped forward and spoke softly to Rhianne. “If you want to hit me, go ahead. I won’t stop you, and I won’t hit you back.”

Rhianne glared at him, furious, but did not move. After a moment, she lowered her eyes.

He nodded, a little sad. He’d thought as much—she didn’t really want to hurt him. “I need your riftstone. It’s