One of the side doors squeaked open, and three figures walked inside. Maldynado came last, identifiable, as always, by his swagger, though the emerald-green hat, its band glittering with tiny gems, and armful of shopping bags would have marked him as well. After a second, Sicarius recognized Amaranthe and Yara, too. They were wearing military uniforms, so his first thought had been that Maldynado had been captured and was leading officers to the hideout.
“…supposed to know there was a squad of soldiers standing in the alley?” Maldynado was asking. “You two had gone out that way.”
He, Yara, and Amaranthe headed for the stairs leading to the second-story offices. When Basilard paused and signed a question, Amaranthe waved for him to continue with the training.
“Why didn’t you check before bursting out of the shop?” Yara asked. “The fact that we’d been gone so long should have told you to be wary.”
Sicarius glided along the narrow support beam, heading for the catwalk so he could intercept Amaranthe. He’d been keeping an eye on Curi’s Bakery, and their forged letter had been picked up by a young woman in business attire who’d also collected a box of pastries. Sicarius had followed her to the yacht club. She’d disappeared into a building at the end of one of the docks and hadn’t come out again.
“You weren’t gone that long,” Maldynado said.
“Lokdon was under those racks for eons,” Yara said as the trio climbed the stairs. “I think she forgot she was spying on Ravido and started dusting.”
Sicarius, almost to the landing, paused. How had they chanced across Ravido when they’d gone costume shopping?
“I did not forget that I was spying.” Amaranthe stepped onto the landing and headed for the door of the office she’d claimed.
“You’ll note she’s not denying the dusting,” Maldynado said.
“How can I? It was filthy down there. If I hadn’t cleaned away a few dust balls, I would have sneezed all over your brother’s boots.”
“You say that as if it’d be inappropriate,” Maldynado said.
Sicarius hopped off the beam and landed in front of Amaranthe’s door. Yara jerked in surprise. Maldynado dropped a shopping bag on his foot and cursed. Amaranthe gave him a you-can’t-be-bothered-to-use-the-stairs-eh eyebrow quirk.
“I have news.” Sicarius flicked his gaze at the others. “Private news.” In truth, the news about the letter pickup wasn’t anything that couldn’t be shared, but he wanted to speak to Amaranthe about the meditation training and assumed she would not want to discuss her sleep issues in front of Maldynado and Yara.
“Let me drop off the boss’s bags, if it won’t disturb you terribly.” Maldynado took as wide a route around Sicarius as the confines of the landing would allow.
“Thank you, Maldynado,” Amaranthe said. “Yara, why don’t you grab some lunch, then see if you can find Books and Akstyr? We’ll all need to try on our costumes and discuss our infiltration plans.”
“I don’t see why you’re not planning to take me.” Maldynado gazed soulfully at Yara, as if it’d eat at him like an iraki fungus if he had to be parted from her for a few days.
Yara folded her arms over her chest and returned his soulful gaze with a deadpan stare.
“I told you,” Amaranthe said, “Sespian is going to need our best fighters. Where I’m going… well, if we start playing fisticuffs with Forge, it’ll likely mean we’ve already failed the mission.”
“Guess I’ll take a nice nap until someone needs me then,” Maldynado said, heading for the stairs.
“Actually…” Amaranthe met Sicarius’s eyes. “Are you planning to take Sespian to see General Ridgecrest tonight?”
“Yes.” Sicarius had an inkling of what her next words would be and made his tone forbidding.
“Why don’t you take Maldynado with you?” Amaranthe asked, undeterred by his tone. “If Ridgecrest hasn’t picked a side, Maldynado ought to be able to come up with family gossip to completely discourage the general from falling in with Ravido.”
“You want me to go off alone with him?” Maldynado pointed at Sicarius. “At night?”
“Sespian will be there too,” Amaranthe said. “It’ll be fun. Like a boys’ night out.”
“The proper place for a boys’ night out is a brothel, gambling hall, or drinking house,” Maldynado said. “Not a dark forest with a soul-devouring monster roaming about.”
Sicarius had no interest in taking Maldynado either. Even if his self-aggrandizing babble weren’t grating, Sicarius had been looking forward to an outing alone with Sespian. Without others around to talk to, Sespian should be more likely to talk to him.
“He is disowned,” Sicarius said. “It is unlikely General Ridgecrest will listen to him.”
“Or,” Amaranthe said, lifting a finger, “Maldynado will irritate him so thoroughly that Ridgecrest will be doubly certain that no Marblecrest blood should make it onto the throne. Either way would work.”
Maldynado’s wry smile wasn’t triumphant. He’d doubtlessly rather spend the night engaged in coitus with Sergeant Yara.
“Of course, it’ll be up to you to convince Ridgecrest that Sespian is the candidate he wants to side with,” Amaranthe said.
“Me,” Sicarius stated at the same time as Maldynado asked, “Him?”
“You three. As a group.”
“That’ll be a unique conversation,” Yara said.
“I’m confident they can do it,” Amaranthe said.
“All right, all right, I’ll go.” Maldynado sighed dramatically and slouched to the door. “Women,” he muttered. “Might as well put one of them on the throne. They’re the ones running the shop anyway.”
Yara’s hand twitched as she followed him out, as if she wasn’t sure whether she should smack him on the back of the head or pat him on the shoulder for accepting the truth.
Sicarius closed the door. Amaranthe tilted her head, waiting expectantly. Thus far, he’d said nothing about the women’s costumes, but he found his humor piqued by the overlong trousers slumped about her ankles, the sleeves draped to her knuckles, the ill-aligned buttons on the lieutenant’s jacket, and the crooked mustache drooping from her upper lip. Whatever scheme had precipitated the need for what must have been a hasty clothing change, he doubted it had worked as planned.
“I was going to offer to stand guard for you again tonight,” Sicarius said, “but if that’s what you’re wearing, I might be less motivated.”
Amaranthe blinked a few times. Though she was the one encouraging him to develop a playful side, she always seemed surprised when he attempted to make jokes. He could conclude little except that he was inept at it. Practice was required. As with knife throwing and any other skill, he supposed.
“Stand guard?” Amaranthe leaned against the desk, the corners of her lips twitching as she regained her equilibrium. “If that’s what you’re planning to do, then, yes, I’m wearing this. Now, if you wanted to come inside my room and pursue a more active endeavor, I might be persuaded to wear less…” Another woman might have wriggled her hips, touched her chest, or made some otherwise suggestive motion, but Amaranthe looked like she’d gone farther down the road than she’d planned and didn’t know how to finish the journey. Or wasn’t sure if she was ready to.
“Facial hair?” Sicarius suggested.
“Yes.” The relief was evident in her tone, when he responded with a joke rather than… naked interest. She surprised him by crossing the room and wrapping her arms around him.
It was, he sensed, a thank-you-for-understanding hug. He returned it, though he once again wondered how things might be between them now if he hadn’t pushed her away for so long. Pike’s torture would have been devastating regardless of the physicality of their relationship, but perhaps he would have a better idea of how to help. That reminded him of his idea-the meditation.
Sicarius stepped back so he could look into her eyes. “I wish to teach you a Nurian meditation technique. It is useful in finding peace and rest in times when the mind would otherwise be busy.” And filled with memories of old pain and fear of new pain, he added to himself, remembering his own days with Pike. He’d endured pains enough as an adult too. He’d not been caught often during his missions, but there had been a few instances when all his rigorous childhood training had been required to survive, escape, and regain equanimity in the days and months after. As he held Amaranthe’s gaze, he trusted she knew what he meant, even if he left the words unsaid.