The Traitor Queen

Regin’s mouth dropped open, then he swallowed. “Is it wise for you to put the idea of torturing you into the king’s mind?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure it will occur to him the moment he learns I’m on my way to meet him. If he’s willing to torture me, then we must conclude that he has put aside any reluctance to rouse the anger of the Guild and the Allied Lands. There will be no chance of getting Lorkin back, anyway.”

She was desperately proud of herself for not letting her voice catch on that last sentence, though it was a close thing. If I can keep this up, maybe I will be able to hide my feelings in front of the Sachakans and Traitors.

“I hope for all our sakes that it doesn’t come to that,” Regin said, with feeling.

She nodded in agreement. If King Amakira was willing to torture her, then Regin would not be safe either.

He shifted across the seat so that he was sitting opposite from her, then held out his hands. “It’s been a full day since the Meet and my strength has recovered. You should take my power now, before we arrive at the Stayhouse.”

She stared at him as reluctance froze her again. This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t hesitate to take power that’s willingly offered, when I’m allowed to and may need it. She hadn’t felt this embarrassment during the Meet, she realised. What was it about using black magic on another person in private that felt uncomfortably... intimate. And illicit. Perhaps because the only other time I’ve done it privately was with Akkarin.

Regin was watching her, his brow creased with growing puzzlement. Drawing in a deep breath, Sonea took his hands. She felt magic flow from him and began to store it within herself.

“I’m sorry. I can’t get used to this,” she told him, shaking her head.

He nodded. “That’s understandable. You were forbidden to for so long. In fact, I did wonder if you had forgotten how to do it, after all this time.” His mouth briefly widened into a teasing grin.

Sonea managed a smile. “If only that was possible.”

* * *

“It’s all clear,” Gol said.

Cery nodded. He’d sent Gol ahead to check that their room remained undiscovered. It was hard to give up old habits of caution. They picked up their burdens and carried them through the passages to the room. Cery set down two battered old chairs, Anyi dropped two bales of hay from her shoulders to the floor, and Gol tossed a bundle of sacks next to the box he’d been using as a seat.

Next, they emptied their pockets of the fruit, vegetables and other items they’d picked up around the farm sheds. Cery looked up at Gol as the man set down a reel of coarse thread.

“Where’d you find that?”

Gol shrugged. “In one of the sheds. There was a basket full of them, so I figured nobody would notice if I took one. And this...” He turned one side of his coat out to reveal a long, curved needle piercing the lining. “If I’m going to make mattresses, we’ll need it.”

Cery regarded his friend dubiously. “You’re going to make mattresses?”

“Anyi said she doesn’t know how to sew.”

“Oh, did she?” Cery smiled at his daughter’s lie. “And you do?”

“Well enough for this. I used to help my da mend his sails.” Gol slipped the end of the thread through the eye of the needle with telling dexterity.

“You’re a man with hidden depths, Gol,” Cery said. Sitting down on one of the chairs, he smiled as he thought back to their raid on the farm. His assumption that servants were living in the sheds had been proven wrong. All were empty of occupants. Though free to move about, he, Gol and Anyi had taken care not to leave signs of their passing and hadn’t taken anything that wasn’t already there in abundance. Anyi had suggested relocating some of the other chairs around the place as if someone had simply moved them for some purpose and forgotten to return them, to hide the fact that a few were missing.

Anyi was poking at the fruit. “They’re not ripe,” she said. “A bit too early in the season. It was hard to tell in the dark. How are we going to cook these vegetables?”

“I only picked ones that didn’t have to be cooked,” Gol said.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Eat them raw? I’m not that hungry.”

His eyebrows rose. “Some are better raw, especially when they’re fresh. Give them a try.”

Anyi didn’t look convinced. “I’ll wait for Lilia. She can cook them with magic.”

“She might not always be able to bring us food,” Cery reminded his daughter. “The fewer times she has to come see us the less risk of the Guild discovering us here.”

“Then I need to find us a secret entrance to the Guild kitchens.” Anyi stood up. “I’m going to see if she needs any help carrying something.”

Gol shook his head as she grabbed a lamp and left. “Doesn’t know what she’s missing,” he muttered.

Cery looked at his friend. “I hoped you two would take a lot more than three days before you started getting under each other’s skin.”

“We might not have any choice about the...” Gol stopped as he looked up and saw Cery’s expression. His lips twisted into a smile. “Yeah. I’ll try not to. She doesn’t like being stuck underground, either.”

“No,” Cery agreed. Hearing a sound, he rose and moved to the room’s doorway. High voices reached him, though he could not hear what they said. “Looks like Lilia was already on her way.”

Sitting down again, he waited for the girls to arrive. Lilia carried the usual lacquered box, this time full of bread buns stuffed with spiced meat and sticky seed cakes.

“Now that’s real food,” Anyi said as she seized a bun.

Lilia grinned. “I’ve made an arrangement with Jonna. She’s going to bring something each night for Anyi to eat and give to poor people, and is going to get me lamp oil and blankets. She thinks I’m being charitable.”

Cery felt a flash of alarm. “You didn’t tell her about us?”

“No.” Lilia looked at the chairs, straw and Gol sewing sacks. “All this came from the farm?”

Anyi must have told her about their raid. “Yes.”

“They won’t miss it?”

“We were careful,” Anyi assured her.

Lilia sat down on one of the boxes. “Well, don’t go back for a few days. I’ll see if I hear anything about trespassers or thieves. Now... I have news from Kallen.”

Cery’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”

“He says people in the city are starting to gossip about your absence. Some believe you must be dead. Others think Skellin has you locked up or cornered somewhere.”

“That’s not far from the truth,” Gol muttered.

Lilia glanced at him, then looked again as she noticed what he was doing. Her eyebrows rose but she made no comment on Gol’s sewing skills. “Skellin’s men have been taking over your...” She waved a hand. “Whatever it is that you do.”

“Loan money, protect people, run businesses, introduce people, sell—” Cery began.

“Don’t tell me,” Lilia interrupted. “As Sonea says, it’s better I don’t know so I can’t be accused of being involved in anything.”

“I thought I was doing a good job of making it all sound legitimate.” Cery looked at Anyi, who rolled her eyes.

“Do any of Skellin’s people think Cery’s dead?” Gol asked.

Lilia shrugged. “Kallen wasn’t that specific. He did want to know if Cery was planning to take back these... businesses.”

“Tell him I will be in no position to until he gets rid of Skellin. Has he made any progress?”

The young woman shook her head. “He didn’t say so. I think he was hoping you’d be as useful to him as you were to Sonea.”

Cery sighed and looked away. “You’d better make it clear to him that I’m no use to anybody now.”

Anyi made a wordless sound of protest. “You’re useful to us.”