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  Bacchus straightened with a slap of his thigh. “Let’s do it. But we keep our options open. Maybe we’ll decide the privy’s worth going for after all.”

  James gave a tight smile. “It’s always good to have options.”

  *

  He handed her a stiletto the length of her hand and molded her fingers around the handle. Her hands were slender and her nails were delicately rounded, though her palms were calloused. The two of them stood in the cramped space between his bed and the window, holding the blade between them.

  “You can wear this dagger under your sleeves. Then, when you get your chance …” James guided the knife toward his own throat. “Go for the neck—the blood vessels and the windpipe. You’ll have to be close for that. Quick.”

  He lowered the stiletto until its tip grazed his neck just above his collarbone. Her eyes widened, and she looked to his face.

  He smiled and tightened his hands around her wrist. “Never let your guard down. Never trust anyone, and never leave yourself vulnerable.”

  “What if I’d surprised you just now? I could have been sent by someone to kill you.”

  “You wouldn’t have.”

  She arched her eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have killed you?”

  “You wouldn’t have surprised me.” He continued. “You have to be aware. If someone is this close to you, holding a weapon, you need to be on your guard. I’m watching your eyes, your shoulders. I’m aware of how you’re standing, where your balance is. If you tighten your muscles to strike, I’ll feel it in your arm. You should be doing the same with me.”

  Her eyes were cautious as she took in what he said. And he watched her look down, taking in his arms, the angle of his chest. Her gaze went inward and her lips fell slightly open as she tried to get a feel for his balance. Standing as close as they were, he could smell a light perfume on her skin.

  Thalia seemed to remember herself. She disengaged her wrist and backed away.

  “What makes a lass like you into a killer?” he asked.

  She shot him an annoyed look, and the tension left the room. “I didn’t hire you to delve into my past.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this? It changes you, you know, your first kill.”

  A smile touched her lips, a hint of a challenge. “You’re quite determined to have me think this over. Do you regret your first kill?”

  It was an interesting question, and he gave it some thought. “No,” he finally said. “I regret not having done it sooner.”

  “Who was it?” She tilted her head in anticipation of a tale. “Some Red Shield?”

  “My father.” He smiled when her eyes widened. “I’ll make you a deal. You can keep your secrets, and I’ll keep mine.”

  “Fair enough.” In another moment, she was all business again. “So if I want to cut his throat, I have to get in close to him.”

  “It’s the only way. You can’t beat him in a fair fight.”

  She turned away. “I know I’m not as strong as a man.”

  He shrugged. “And you never will be. But I killed grown men before I came of age. If you can’t rely on strength, you rely on stealth. Surprise is your strongest asset, so make sure the first time kills.” He paused. “If you kill him while he’s alone, you might be able to escape. If there are others with him, you won’t. Either way, you’re just as likely to die from this venture as your mark. You know that, right?”

  “I do.”

  Her voice was level, but he thought he caught a flash of despair in her eyes. What secrets was she holding that would drive her to do this? But that was her business.

  Thalia sheathed the blade and laid it across the palm of her hand, feeling its weight. “What about poison?” she asked.

  “Poison? What of it?”

  “Then I could make sure I kill him the first time.”

  He waved her suggestion away and turned toward the window. “You’ve been listening to too many talesingers. Poisons are a thing of the past.” On the street below, a raven-haired boy pushed a cart of fruit. Strange to think that most folk might go their whole lives without plotting someone’s death. When James turned back to Thalia, she was gazing calmly up at him.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Poison is cheating. A blade is all you need.”

  His dismissal had no visible effect on her. “Do you really think it’s cheating, or is it because you don’t have the means? The Guild isn’t exactly what it used to be.”

  She was more right than he wanted to admit. A hundred years ago, when the Guild’s influence had ranged from the slums to the Palace, assassins had used poisons to great effect. There had still been talk of venoms during James’s early days at the Guild. The older assassins had told stories—exaggerated, no doubt, but detailed enough to ring true. These days, they barely had the coin to keep their crew fed, let alone maintain the funds and connections to acquire exotic substances. James felt a surge of irritation. “Do you want my help or not? You can pursue your poisons if that’s what you wish. But don’t bother me about it.”

  “What if I were to tell you that I know a trader who sells lizard skin venom?”

  He froze. “You lie.”

  “It would cost you of course. But it’s there.”

  James wondered when the girl would stop surprising him. “Lizard skin is a blade poison. You’d still need to draw blood. If you were in the Guild, I’d tell you not to use it lest your knife skills grow weak. But in your case, it could be useful.”

  Chapter Four

  THALIA arranged for James to be introduced to the caravaners at their campsite. James met her at the city gates so Thalia could show him the way. Her hair was pulled back in a scarf, and she’d traded her dress for rugged trousers that accentuated the lines of her legs. Thalia traveled the forest paths with the same grace she lent to her dancing.

  “These friends of yours. How well do you know them?” asked James.

  “They’re not my home caravan, but I’ve known Alvie since I was small enough to sit on his knee. He’s trustworthy.”

  They broke through a clearing where seven covered wagons were circled around a firepit. A handful of men and women went about their business, weaving between the wagons and occasionally ducking into them. James had seen caravaners before when they traded in the city, but he’d had little interaction with them. They were a close-knit bunch and mostly kept to themselves, though James had heard that they were protective and fiercely loyal, both to their own caravans and to others that they formed alliances with.

  “How often are they here?” asked James.

  “Once a fortnight, perhaps,” said Thalia.

  The back flap of a wagon opened, and a bald, stocky man stepped out. He had a face resembling a walrus, with a curled mustache in place of tusks. “Thalia!” he said.

  Thalia responded with the first genuine smile James had seen from her.

  Alvie pulled the dancing girl into an embrace. “Still here then, on your mad quest?”

  “Until it’s done.” She spoke quietly, but something about her tone suggested that she was holding her ground in a long disagreement between the two of them.

  Alvie’s expression became more guarded when he saw James. “You’re the buyer?”

  “I can get your goods past the Red Shield checkpoints,” said James.

  “You’re not afraid of the Palace?” The trader looked him up and down.

  James smiled. “More marks against me won’t make a difference. But why would you take this risk?”

  Alvie gestured in the direction of the city. “The Palace keeps our prices low by prohibiting us from selling to others. I travel far for those goods. I want to make my fair due.”

  “I assume Thalia’s told you that we’re only planning one run. We don’t plan to be in Forge much longer.”

  “Plenty of money in one run,” said Alvie. “And if things go well, there’s no reason we couldn’t continue this elsewhere.”

  “Fair enough,” said James. “We’ll n
eed to find buyers, but I’d like to see the wares first.”

  “Certainly.” Alvie gestured to Thalia. “It’s in the fifth wagon.”

  As Thalia disappeared behind the wagon, Alvie turned his eye toward James. “You know her well?”

  “No. She sought me out.”

  Alvie looked him over again. James suspected that this time Alvie wasn’t evaluating his abilities as a smuggler. He wasn’t sure what the caravaner could discern from his appearance, but whatever Alvie saw didn’t clear the suspicion from his eyes. “I’d ask your help in keeping her out of trouble, but I suppose that’s not your arrangement with her.”

  James smiled, not missing the layers of questions behind the caravaner’s remark. “She’s not looking to stay out of trouble.” If Alvie wanted to know more about their arrangement, he’d have to get it out of Thalia.

  “Are you involved with her?” Alvie asked bluntly.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “We both stand to lose much if this venture goes wrong. Thalia says you’re trustworthy, but I need to know if anything’s clouding her judgment.”

  James didn’t believe for a moment that the man’s concern was for business reasons. Not with the protective way he watched over the girl. James supposed there was no point in needlessly antagonizing the man. “She keeps her distance,” he said.

  Alvie gave a quick nod, apparently satisfied, and looked to where Thalia was climbing out of the wagon. “She’s changed,” he said. “Since she lost her sister.”

  The caravaner was watching him for a reaction. James gave a noncommittal shrug. “I just do what she pays me to do.”

  There was a twitch of frustration in Alvie’s expression. He might have said more, but Thalia was already coming back with a large box. If she suspected she’d been the topic of conversation, she gave no sign of it. Alvie placed the box on the back of the nearest wagon and opened it. The smell of a half dozen spices filled the air.

  “Cinnamon, saffron, curries from Minadel,” said Alvie. “I can give you some samples to show to your buyers.”

  “That will work. I should have buyers ready in a fortnight.”

  Thalia stood on her toes and kissed Alvie lightly on the cheek. “You’ll bring me the venom next time?” When Alvie stayed silent, she added, “If you don’t, I’ll just go forward without it.”

  For a moment, it looked like Alvie was going to argue, but he gave a defeated nod and squeezed her tight. “Take care of yourself.”

  *

  Thalia danced again that night. Every time James watched her, he noticed something new. This time, it was the way she arched her neck when she bent to the music. It was a small detail, sensual and carefree at once.

  “You bed her yet?” asked Bacchus. “If you’re not interested, I want a try.”

  “Stay away from her,” he said, eyes fixed on the dance. Actually, James wasn’t sure why he hadn’t tried anything yet. He’d never been shy of women, and there were always some adventurous serving girls eager to roll with an assassin. But Thalia had made it clear from the beginning that their arrangement was purely business—going out of her way to wipe off her eye paint and rouge before she came to talk to him, refusing to sit on his bed. This was limited only to her off stage dealings. When Thalia was on stage, she was enchanting—all swaying hips and fluttering lashes.

  Presently, the music stopped, and she came by their table. Her cheeks were flushed from the exercise, and the hair around her face was damp with sweat. She’d been in good spirits after visiting the caravan.

  Thalia made a barely perceptible gesture toward a table in the corner.

  “Over there. That’s your guildleader, isn’t it?”

  James glanced over. “That’s Gerred.”

  “And who’s that with him?”

  “One of the noblemen he caters to. Goes by Steffen.”

  Thalia shifted herself carefully so no one but James could see her lips. “And his real name, is it Hamel?”

  He really needed to stop being surprised when the girl knew something she shouldn’t. James gave a discrete nod.

  Her face took on a focus that he’d never seen before. “I need to speak with him.”

  “Why?”

  She hesitated a split second. “He has connections.”

  Why was the girl flat-out set on diving into the messiest circumstances possible? “He’s dangerous,” he said.

  “Please. Introduce me. Let me dance for them,” she said. Again, there was something in her eyes. The same fiery desperation that had been there when she’d first asked him for help. It bothered James how little he knew about her, but he was curious about her request, and perhaps it would be a good idea to stay close to Gerred.

  “Just this once,” he said, standing up from his chair. He wasn’t sure whether the flash of triumph across her face bode well or ill.

  Gerred looked to be in the middle of a long speech, leaning across the table toward Hamel as the nobleman listened with a half-interested expression. The guildleader shot James a look that was anything but welcoming. James pretended not to notice.

  “Can I join you?” James pulled up a chair, knowing that Gerred wouldn’t turn him away once he was there, lest he give Hamel an impression that he didn’t have full control over his crew. But the look Gerred turned on him when he sat down was even more hostile than James had expected. Belatedly, he realized that what might have once simply been an impudent gesture from a young upstart was now being interpreted as an attempt from a rival to poach Gerred’s allies. Well, it was too late to back out now, and part of him enjoyed seeing Gerred off balance.

  James turned to Lord Hamel. “Good to see you. Steffen, is it?”

  Lord Hamel nodded amiably, though the spark in his eyes suggested that the nobleman was well aware of everything that had passed between the two assassins. Once again, James reminded himself not to underestimate this wallhugger.

  “What brings you to the city today?” James asked.

  “Just discussing some plans with Gerred.” Hamel did a respectable job of hiding his high-class diction, though he couldn’t quite lose his air of command. But then, perhaps he didn’t want to blend in too completely with the masses.

  James nodded gravely. “There are always things to get done. Gerred’s the right man for the job, though. He’s done much to strengthen our Guild’s workings.” James had the satisfaction of seeing Gerred’s brow furrow slightly in confusion.

  “I’m glad to hear it. It is said that the best measure of a man lies in the opinions of those he commands,” said Hamel.

  “Wisely said,” said James, without a hint of mockery. “Tell me, Steffen. Have you been to the Scorned Maiden before?”

  “Not for many years.” Hamel surveyed the surroundings in a way that made James aware of the ill-fitted window shutters and rotting ceiling beams. The smell of sweat and ale was strong tonight. “It has its charms.”

  James took a long draught from his drink. “The ale is middling, but the dancers are some of the best in the city.” He raised a hand to Thalia. “A dance, to entertain my friend here.” He flipped a coin to the lute player in the corner.

  Thalia danced well. James had never seen her so given to a performance, and she only had eyes for Hamel. The nobleman watched with an appreciative eye, and after a while James itched to cut that leer off his face. But Thalia was encouraging him, tossing her auburn hair and swaying her hips. Gerred scowled as well, shooting suspicious looks at James every so often. But seeing how pleased Hamel was, Gerred didn’t complain.

  When the dance was over, Hamel waved Thalia over. She approached them boldly, her eyes sparkling with promises.

  “What is your name?”

  “Thalia.”

  “Beautiful, Thalia. Truly beautiful.” Lord Hamel pulled up a chair for her, and Thalia joined them at the table.

  Chapter Five

  THALIA was noticeably tired when she came to James’s quarters the next afternoon. Paler, if it was even possible, wi
th circles under her eyes.

  “Didn’t sleep well last night?” James asked. He didn’t bother toning down his sarcasm.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” There was a brokenness to her tone that might have stopped him under different circumstances, but he wasn’t feeling charitable. All he could see was Thalia under Hamel’s arm, smiling and laughing as the nobleman pulled her even closer. Hamel’s lips against her hair as he whispered in her ear. And to add insult to injury, she was now back in her homespun gown with her makeup removed, playing the innocent.

  “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he said.

  She didn’t say anything, just turned away from him so that her hair hid her face from view. James’s anger boiled over. He grabbed her wrist. Too forcefully, and she gasped.

  “Did you go to his bed?”

  “What is it to you?” she said.

  Part of him had still hoped she’d deny it. James’s lips curled in disgust. “You really are dedicated, aren’t you? If you’re planning to use Hamel to reach your mark, you’re playing with fire. One wrong step with him—”

  It seemed that something snapped in her, because her timidity fell away. Thalia whipped her head up, eyes ablaze. “Don’t be blind, James. Look at me. Do you think I enjoyed it?”

  They were almost nose to nose, and her voice was threatening to crack. It was enough to make him pause. He pulled back and took in the hollow hopelessness of her face, the pallor of her skin. She watched him, eyes wide. Then Thalia seemed to gather herself. She stood up on her toes, eyes half lidded, and touched her lips to his. He knew she was just trying to distract him, to give him what she thought he desired. For a long moment, he stood unmoving against the pressure of her lips, but finally he tilted his face ever so slightly to meet hers.

  This was the signal she was waiting for. Thalia pressed into him, urgent now, and a rush of heat filled James. Her lips were soft, her breath warm. He’d known he wanted her, but hadn’t realized how much. Thalia’s body was strong but pliant, just as he’d imagined, her restless fingers finding purchase in his arms and his shoulders. He buried his fingers in her hair, his frustration adding a savagery to his movements as he bore her toward his bed, sliding his hands down her back to pull at the lacing of her gown.