questioning his decision to employ her as his advocate in regard to Sespian. Amaranthe gave him a cheery smile. Too late now.
“ Regardless,” Amaranthe said, sliding open the table’s lone drawer and causing paper to rustle inside, “I didn’t invite you two here to discuss this. There’s too much work to be done before Sespian can climb back onto the throne, if that should be what fate holds. I thought we could simply sit here, talk, and build a sense of camaraderie since teamwork will be of the utmost importance going forward.” And since Sicarius hadn’t shown any initiative in talking with Sespian on his own.
“ You want us to bond,” Sespian said, his tone as deadpan-and unimpressed-as Sicarius’s usually was.
“ I believe that’s what I said, yes.” Amaranthe smiled again-her lips would probably be sore from all the exercise they were getting. She pulled out a frosting-stained bag. “We’ll have lunch and a pastry, and appreciate-er, grow accustomed to-each other’s company.”
That earned her utter silence. Lovely.
Amaranthe laid out the food Sespian had brought, wishing their cabin had such fancy accoutrements as plates and silverware. The room lacked a third stool, so she planned to retreat to a bunk, leaving the two men to face each other and perhaps-dared she hope? — chat amongst themselves. She pulled out the pastries and laid them beside the potpies Sespian had brought.
“ What are those?” Sicarius pointed to the sweets.
It surprised Amaranthe that he cared enough to ask. “Honeycrests and cinni-stumps.”
“ You acquired new ones?” Sicarius asked, a hint of censure in his tone. Ah, that was it. He didn’t care about the names. He was appalled that a person might not only want sweets but want them again and again.
“ Akstyr ate the other ones,” she said, deciding to blame someone who wasn’t around rather than admitting that she’d wolfed down two herself. “Besides, I could hardly suggest that Sespian eat emperor’s buns.”
As before, Sicarius didn’t seem to find the name amusing.
At least Sespian smiled. “I’ve had them before. It’d be more appealing to see you eat them though.” He gave her a shy smile, then seemed to notice Sicarius staring at him, and the smile faltered. “Sorry, that was crude.”
“ No, it’s all right.” Amaranthe needed to set things straight with him. “It’s just that…” She tried to get Sicarius to meet her eyes, wanting his approval before speaking words aloud that she’d yet to voice to anyone else.
It took Sicarius a moment to stop staring at Sespian-at least he wasn’t glowering, not the way he had with Mancrest, but his regular expression wasn’t that inviting either. He met Amaranthe’s gaze, seemed to read her question, and nodded once.
“ We’re…” Amaranthe started. The words caught when Sespian swung his brown eyes toward her, eyes full of youthful hope mixed with a wariness for what was coming-he had to have sensed this on some level. “We’re a we,” she finally said, pointing back and forth between herself and Sicarius. It wasn’t particularly eloquent, but judging from the ashen color that came over his face, Sespian understood.
Tempted to lift a fingernail to her lips for gnawing, Amaranthe waited for his reaction. She didn’t think he’d explode and throw a tantrum-he wasn’t that young-but she feared harsh words and stung emotions. Especially when Sespian had to still be reeling over the shock of learning that he wasn’t the rightful emperor and that he had an assassin for a father.
“ Yes, of course,” Sespian finally said. “I can see… The signs were there all along. I get it.” He stood, bumping against the chair, nearly tipping it over, and righting it with uncharacteristic clumsiness.
Amaranthe closed her eyes, feeling like she’d personally jammed a knife into the kid’s stomach.
“ I’m not hungry after all. Please help yourselves to my portion.” Sespian hustled for the door.
Amaranthe didn’t stop him. When she’d been fantasizing about locking the men in the room together, it hadn’t been to discuss anything like this.
“ I’m sorry,” she told Sicarius after the door thumped shut.
“ You are not to blame.”
“ I didn’t mean to bring that up. Not now.” Amaranthe prodded the bag. “Maybe you were right and pastries weren’t a good idea after all.”
“ He had to know eventually.”
“ I just feel bad about dumping all of this on him in the same week.” Amaranthe sank down into the vacant stool. The wooden seat was still warm. “He’s had a rough year. A rough life. I remember asking you once if you’d ever known happiness, but I now wonder the same thing about him. I have the sense that he had a lonely childhood, and you told me yourself that Raumesys wasn’t kind.”
“ Yes,” Sicarius murmured. “There are times…” He traced the grain of the table with a finger.
“ Yes?”
“ I have mused upon how his life might have been if I’d told him the truth long ago and taken him away after his mother died. I could have ensured he was raised by a normal family with other children so that he wouldn’t have to endure what he did. I was not wise enough to act on those musings.”
Amaranthe laid a hand on Sicarius’s. “There’s still time for… something between you two. A better future for him. I know it doesn’t look promising now, but I truly believe that.”
“ Perhaps.” Sicarius didn’t sound convinced.
In the dark cabin, Evrial leaned against the wall, drumming her fingers on her thigh while she waited for the enforcers outside to wander away. Clangs had announced them opening hatches and searching rooms. For a moment, she’d worried, assuming they’d walk in on her and Maldynado’s hiding spot. But Maldynado had turned the lock, and the enforcers had done no more than try the latch.
The minutes dragged past, however, as the men continued to search. Evrial was surprised Maldynado hadn’t suggested any after-dark activities in which a man and woman could engage to pass the time. She would have rebuffed him if he had, but it hadn’t been necessary. When she’d checked on him, he’d been standing quietly, ear pressed to the hatch. She told herself she needed to stop being surprised that he could be professional when the moment called for it.
“ I think they’re gone,” Maldynado said. “I haven’t heard a hatch shut for a while, though it’s hard to tell with that music in the background.”
“ Let’s check,” Evrial said, remembering she was ostensibly in charge. She hoped Amaranthe wouldn’t blame her if she lost Akstyr.
A slash of light entered the cabin, highlighting discarded socks and soiled underwear. Evrial’s nose had been correct.
“ Out or further in?” Maldynado asked after checking the passageway. He pointed the way they’d come and then deeper into the warren of tunnels.
“ We have to find your wizard.”
Maldynado nodded, and they slipped outside and jogged for the next intersection. Unlike the wider passenger hallways, these narrow corridors didn’t allow two people to walk side-by-side, so the only warning Evrial had was Maldynado stopping to peer around the corner, then stiffening.
“ What is it?” she whispered.
“ A problem.” Arm spread to keep her from looking, Maldynado stepped back.
A faint creak came from behind Evrial. She spun and found herself facing one of the enforcers who’d been seated at the table. A hatch stood open behind him. She tensed, tempted to spring, but he lifted his arm, revealing a pocket-sized crossbow in his hand. The tiny dart would have been laughable if not for the dark smudge on the tip. Drekal, she guessed, a paralysis poison. Neither it nor the miniature crossbow were standard enforcer weapons, but they were sometimes used by detectives and undercover operatives. The man’s jaw was clenched in a scowl- perhaps mentioning wizards hadn’t been a good idea. She’d grown too blase of the concept over the last few weeks.
“ Looking for someone?” Maldynado asked.
His back bumped Evrial’s-he must be facing a similar opponent in the intersection.
“ Yes,” a male voice replied, “and I’ve found one of them. Is your whole team on this boat?”
“ Of course not,” Maldynado said. “We split up and took different boats in case there was a search at the Stumps docks. It’s just us.”
While Maldynado chatted with his fellow, Evrial searched for a way to disarm hers. Maybe she could fake an
