Ari led the man into the Great Hall, settling under the familiar flag of House Valery, which neighboured–

Familiar?

She glared at the other velvet flags dangling from the ceiling, far above the bustle of Claribel’s household, veiled in shadows. Names of marquises, earls, viscounts, barons and landed knights resounded through her head, like a rifle scope that’d just been twisted into focus, only to shoot past and blur once more.

This wasn’t like catching a glimpse of Claribel’s memory. No. It was a feeling more familiar than the flags had been, a relic from her older missions. Fifty kill-shots with a single Glock later, a Skill had descended upon her: [Pistol Hot Shot – Executes friends and enemies with twin pistols. Earn extra XP for headshots. [ACQUIRED]]

The darkness on the underside of her eyelids shifted into words: [Heraldry Hot Shot – Reveals name and affiliation of noble families upon viewing heraldry. Decodes meaning of heraldry symbolism in gifts. Activates while using Noble Dress. [ACQUIRED]]

Ari poked Claribel, who merely shrugged.

When she tried to catch another glimpse of the Skill, it had melted back into darkness, much like her momentary recognition of every single flag in the Great Hall, as if it had never been there at all.

‘…a simple chicken broth, my lady.’ She snapped back at the clatter of the pot, laid down in front of the man next to a full loaf of bread. ‘He don’t look so good. Thought we’d bring ‘im somethin’ light.’

The kitchenhand was right. Though something on the inside of her very being felt like it had landed crooked, it was nothing close to how the man looked. The glow from the hearth lit up his face better than the guards’ torches had, and now that she could see him in colour instead of charcoal-shaded contours, he looked both younger and older than she’d remembered. His lips were cracked, drier than his tangled hair. He scratched his arms absently with his ragged nails. And he trembled. He trembled all over, from his lips to his dirt-stained fingertips.

Was it from the cold or from being forced into Claribel’s noble presence?

‘I really wasn’t goin’ to bother you, milady,’ his words trembled too, through clattering teeth. ‘I know you don’t like us kinds hangin’ round your manor, and you do give so generously to the Church to help us already, but… I really did get a message from… from a lady I met by the portside to come here and mayhap collect a reward for… for…’

‘It’s been…’ Ari counted. ‘… three days, hasn’t it? You were supposed to come the day after.’

‘I… I didn’t think they’d really want me here, milady. I’m not a pretty sight to have at your gates. But I… I was wondering if you could spare me the coin for some food ‘n’ drink, that’s all. You needn’t feed me at your own table.’

Good thing she hadn’t asked him to dine in the solar. In the Great Hall, at least they were surrounded by Claribel’s hotchpotch household, from Lonicer’s muddy-faced boys to the scullery maids, and not just the manor’s ubiquitous wealth of handiworks from Ventinon’s finest masters.

‘I wanted to invite you in because,’ Ari mulled over the wording without revealing that it was her he’d met on that moonlit night, ‘I have it on good authority that you’ve proved yourself an expert at digging, scraping and cleaning. We’re looking for more hands at the farm.’ When Claribel didn’t object, she added, ‘Cows are hard work.’

At least she’d glimpsed several in the field from her window. Sometimes she saw them kick over the fence and saunter into another farm’s field.

‘Thank you so much, milady, honestly, your man Thos here’ll do anythin’!’ he cried, clutching the cup that’d been filled with spring water from the back of Claribel’s farm. Down went a second cup, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and still he licked his lips, as if he was parched. He ladled the chicken broth into a bowl made of hollowed bread and shovelled three mouthfuls in a row. ‘I haven’t eaten a proper meal for days! A kind stranger offered me some mushroom and radish pie the day I met your… your servants, I guess? It’s been nothin’ but bread and water since. Speakin’ of that night, did your servants tell you ‘bout that lass with the lute?’

Ari’s hand froze around her own cup of pressed apple juice. ‘What about… her?’

‘There was this lass with a lute and a big wooden case on wheels, see?’ said Thos. ‘I saw hair comin’ out of the bottom hinges – that’s what you start to see everywhere after cleanin’ up remains. Could have been a wig. Nothin’ ‘gainst them. But then I thought about that dead duke…’

‘Wait, wait, wait… Who have you told?’

‘Look at me! Like I have anyone to tell, ‘n’ not likely anyone’ll believe me!’ His voice cracked, and he sniffed the moment a way. ‘But I did think her odd, like, tryin’ to hide her face ‘n’ stand like a man, so I took an extra good look at her. I’d recognise her anywhere. Grey eyes, she had, ‘n’ I’d know those eyes anywhere.’

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Did Nanny Jesse have grey eyes? Could she pluck a tune on a lute? A woman of letters. Educated a duke.

‘I’ve always had a good memory, milady, even though people don’t believe me. Not since I was a boy. Aye, when I was but a mere boy…’

What had she told Claribel? That the book had ended before the events that they were living through? Then what was this? A skeleton of a formulaic plot buried under layers of mundane moments? This was her mission and her non-Agent life, bled into one.

Yes, Ari knew how this was supposed to go. Thos gave her a weak smile, sinking into a moment’s peace, not knowing that eternal peace loomed around the corner. If she stopped him now, would it make a difference? Would the story kill him if she didn’t allow him to spill his backstory? Before he’d immortalised his love and his hope in black and white?

‘I will protect you,’ she vowed under her breath. A vow she’d broken to Max.

‘What did you say, milady?’

‘Nothing.’ It might all be for nothing. They were hurtling towards an unknown ending, hands tied and nailed into a coffin called their role. A fantasy romance her arse. As if the story would spare Thos for his silence. He was never important enough. Perhaps not even important enough to be named when they print the sequel. She would remember his name. Write it into her heart. ‘Thos. Tell me everything.’

‘Well! Have you ever journeyed to the edge of Lake Una, milady?’

~That’s impossible!~

Claribel’s exclamation washed over her with a queasy feeling. She clutched at her heart, the heart that wasn’t hers. Was there alcohol in this apple juice? No.

‘I did! I went there, as a child. Did it as a dare. Swam up the River Whye, see? I’m a good swimmer, me. My father, ‘n’ his father before him, all fishermen. Once you know the sea, a lake’s not so bad. Got on a log and kicked, I did.’ A spot of colour crawled back onto his face. The light in his eyes swam, like an echo of the sunlight reflected in those waters. ‘There, I’m tellin’ you, I saw a dame like no other. Her hair was mud brown, nothin’ special. I’ve seen bird’s nests less tangled. She had no shinin’ armour neither. It was all ol’ leather. She rode a brown mare. They say their kind have a special glow, but she didn’t. She looked jus’ like you ‘n’ me. More you than me! But I knew. I knew that was none other than the Child of War, Susu, herself.’

~That’s…~

‘Don’t believe me?’ His chuckle turned into a cough. ‘How’d I know it was her? She wore five Eyes of Una ‘round her neck, all of ‘em spent. There’s no man or woman in the history of the world who’d reaped more than one, ‘part from Susu. Seven, she reaped, ‘n’ I guess she wished for immortality or some shit – ‘scuse my language – with the ones she had, ‘cause I’m tellin’ you, milady, she looked not a day older than twenty.’

‘So… did she see you?’ said Ari, waiting for the ping to tell her she’d unwittingly chosen the ‘Lake Una’ option for ‘Pick an Eye of Una to target’, but the only words that came were from Thos’s dry, cracking voice.

‘They looked so plain. Jus’ grey stones. But there was somethin’ ‘bout them. I just knew they were Eyes of Una. Never seen an unspent one though. It’s s’pose to be the most beautiful eye in the world. P’haps I’ll save up from that farm work ‘n’ visit again someday. If I get to see that ‘fore I die? I’d die a happy man.’

There it was. A declaration of his desire, just so the story could kill him off with an extra wrench to the gut. At least he hadn’t spent his time gushing about a wife and daughter, waiting for him to come home.

‘You know what else, milady?’ No. Not the wife and daughter. ‘The lute player’s eyes? They were the same grey as those Eyes of Una. Aye. I’m tellin’ you. That’s why I’d know ‘er anywhere.’ He took another swig of water: his fourth cup by now. ‘I’m good at faces too. Between you ‘n’ me, milady,’ he said, smile wider now. ‘I’ve seen you headin’ into the city in disguise.’

Ari smiled back. The pock-faced disguise was hardly worth adding to the Agent handbook. If he’d seen through the latex prosthetics that used to be at her fingertips, then–

She froze, because out of the corner of her eye, the expression of surprise on Claribel’s face felt overblown, mixed with a hint of horror. Did it really horrify Lady Prim and Proper that much that a man witnessed her in disarray?

‘It’s nice to get out and see the real world sometimes,’ Ari offered when Claribel didn’t reply.

‘Aye, that it is,’ said Thos. Then his voice fell to barely a whisper. Perhaps it wasn’t his voice at all; she didn’t see those cracked lips move. ‘Open your eyes.’

*

It wouldn’t do for a lady to stay by his side, but she did the next best thing. Natty set up a pallet in the solar, dismissing Thos’s protests that the Great Hall was more than good enough for him. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t possible to protect him from the unknown murderer when most of Claribel’s household slept under the flags.

Natty took sentry inside, eyes on the windows, ready to cut down any intruders as foolish as Sir Edwin. Claribel’s spirit joined her, unsleeping, unseen, hovering next to Thos’s sleeping form.

Ari could only wait in the silence of Claribel’s chambers, her new Tasrine steel blade unsheathed. Gather, front, front, pass. Gather, back, back, pass. Her feet drew lines across an invisible triangle on the floor. Even basic footwork made her legs scream, but the steady, familiar motion lulled her: a swishing lullaby of her own making.

*

It was past midnight when he retched.

All the bread he’d eaten, smiling, soured.

She could only rub his back, mop his brows, tell him he was going to be just fine.

She could only lie, and by the look in his eyes, he saw right through her.

Rashes on his arms. Welts on the back of his neck.

The water. The cracked lips. Signs of destroyed kidneys.

How could she be so blind?

She held him until his eyes fell shut, never to open again.

*

By dawn, Thos was dead.

No, that wasn’t quite right.

Mushroom. Radish. An odd combination for a pie. Had there been any radish in it at all?

Cortinarius rubellus. The deadly webcap that smelt like radish. A three-day goodbye, in this world, as in hers.

I will protect you? He had been a dead man walking since the night they’d met. No, not the night when he’d dined at her table, but the night he’d sold her Malory’s remains.

And she, fool that she was, had never asked him to describe the man who’d given him the pie.