Scars nodded to his captain and departed to carry out his orders. Taking another sip of wine, Shailiha regarded Tyranny thoughtfully. Tyranny raised her eyebrows. "You have something on your mind. Do you have concerns about the mission? If you do, now's the time to say so."
Looking down, Shailiha rolled the wine glass between her palms. Something had been bothering her for some time. At last she looked Tyranny in the eyes. "It's not the mission I'm thinking of."
"What, then?"
"You love him, don't you?"
Sighing, Tyranny looked down at the deck. When she raised her face, it showed a rare vulnerability. "Am I really that transparent?"
"Perhaps only to me," Shailiha answered. "No one else has mentioned it. I speak of it for two reasons. The first is that I want you to know that I understand. I care for him in a different way than you do, of course, but I know how easy it is to become attached to him. Trust me, I've seen it before."
Smiling wryly, Tyranny shook her head. "I have never known a man quite like him," she said. "I wish you could have seen him that day I rescued him from the slaver ship. He was filthy and wounded, but the moment I saw him, he stood out from all the rest. As I came to know him, he captured my heart as no other ever has."
After an awkward silence, Tyranny spoke again. "You mentioned that there were two reasons for discussing this. What is the other?"
"I want your promise that you will do nothing to interfere with the relationship between my brother and Celeste," Shailiha said bluntly. "They have only recently found each other, and they love each other deeply. Ever since the return of the Coven, his life has been very difficult. And her life has been a nightmare from the day she was born. I don't want you to harm whatever joy they have been able to pluck from the ashes."
Tyranny walked back over to the window. "You needn't concern yourself with that," she said.
Despite the courage in the privateer's voice, Shailiha could tell that it was difficult for her to get the words out. When Tyranny turned around, the princess saw the shine of unshed tears, but they were quickly blinked away.
"Some time ago, I decided not to try to get in the way," she said softly. "Because of your brother, I am a member of the Conclave and the captain of Eutracia's fleet. They are positions I do not take lightly. I owe Tristan more than I could ever repay. And regardless of my personal feelings for him, I am also very fond of Celeste. You have my word."
"Thank you," Shailiha said. Standing, she turned toward the door.
"Just the same, there is something else you should know," Tyranny added. Raising her eyebrows, Shailiha looked back at her.
"If for any reason Tristan and Celeste are no longer together, my promise is rescinded." A crafty smile crept across her face. "I'm no thief, but I remain a privateer."
Shailiha couldn't help but smile back. "Agreed," she said. She strode to the door and left the room.
CHAPTER XLVI
The sun would soon rise, Satinerealized. in another four hours or so, she would be discovered. She didn't need that much time to complete her next sanction, but she appreciated the margin of safety. The nighttime sky was cloudy, and for that she was also thankful. Moonlight would have proven a deadly adversary.
From her place in the bushes, Satine watched carefully as a pair of stern Minion guards strode in opposite directions along the base of the castle wall. The light from their nearby campsites sent the patrolling warriors' shadows crawling across the dark gray stones, adding to her tension. Despite the bravado she had displayed for Bratach, this would be the most dangerous sanction of her career.
Lying upon the dewy ground, the Gray Fox watched as the two warriors reached the limits of their patrols, smartly turned, and approached one another again. She had been watching them for some time now, so as to make sure that there would be no sudden change in their routine. She had chosen this section of the palace wall because it was the most remote, and therefore less guarded.
As they neared, the warriors took no heed of one another. When no more than a foot separated them, they stopped, spun briskly around, and then walked away once more. They would do the same thing over and over again until they were relieved.
The next time the warriors met and turned, Satine began counting to herself. She continued to count until the warriors reached the lengths of their patrols; at forty, they did an about-face and walked back.
Looking at the top of the wall, she knew that what she had planned would be difficult. When the guards met and turned again she began to count again, this time looking at the area between her hiding place and the base of the wall. Still counting, she visualized her run, and her ascent to the top. When she envisioned herself on top of the wall, she had reached forty-one. But by then the unsuspecting warriors had already met and turned yet again.
Satine sighed. There would be barely enough time, and even then it would have to go perfectly. If she made any noise or didn't move swiftly enough, the Minions would notice her, and both her mission and her life would come to an abrupt end. Her run would have to be silent, her throw perfect, and her climb swift. Bringing the rope up after her quickly enough was yet another concern.
Unlike the night she killed Geldon, Satine was dressed in peasant garb. She wore a short tunic, brown breeches, and a pair of very worn knee boots-all purchased that morning at a secondhand shop. A battered leather belt was cinched around her middle. She wore no hat; her dark braid was tucked inside the neck of her tunic. Except for a single hip dagger, she carried no weapons. She felt naked without them, but for her plan to work, she had to appear as one of the innocent citizenry in all respects.
She had wound white bandages spotted with blood around both her left forearm and her right thigh. The stray dog she had killed earlier that day had gone quietly, and it was his blood, rather than her own, that adorned her bandages.
She reached around to the leather bag slung across her back and felt for the small grappling hook. It came out easily, along with the black knotted line tied to it. After slowly coiling the line, she laid the neat circle of rope by her side. Using both hands, she quietly snapped open the three-pronged hook and laid it alongside the rope. Then she looked back to the wall.
As expected, the two warriors were still marching their mind-numbing drill. She would give them two more passes, she decided, and then she would make for the wall. She waited patiently, her heart hammering in her chest and her muscles coiled and ready.
The warriors approached again, and then turned away. Reaching out for the handle of the grappling hook, she waited. She coiled the free end of the rope around her left hand.
Again the warriors came. Once she left the security of the bushes, there was no going back. As the warriors approached one another for the final time, she started counting.
One.
The moment the warriors turned and started back, she left the bushes. She ran lightly but quickly, her boots hardly making a sound as she raced for the wall. At the same time she began to swing the hook, letting the line out bit by bit as she went. When she was just over halfway there she sent the hook flying, and she prayed.
Ten.
Her throw was perfect. The hook caught securely to the top of the wall with barely a sound. To make sure of its purchase she gave it a sharp yank, and it held. Bracing her feet against the wall, she began her climb upward, hand over hand against the knots in the rope. Using every ounce of skill and strength she possessed, she made her way quickly, like a spider.
Twenty-six.
The height of the wall seemed greater now that she was upon it, and the rope began burning her naked palms. The climb was tougher than she had envisioned, and her time was running out.
Thirty-four.
Scrambling as fast as she could, she finally neared the top. The last few knots dug viciously into her hands, and the sweat burned her eyes.