“Thank you,” Rosa says, wiping her face and stepping quickly to the door. She beckons in some scantily clad women, who look around excitedly.
“Don’t thank me,” Wadestaff murmurs, turning away from us all. I feel sorry for him, uncertain I could survive the loss he’s endured. More than that, Iunderstandhim, because I think he has a point. The women Esther’s sitting down to talk to look too full of life for this dark, dangerous task. They nod eagerly as the Hand members go over the information they’re looking for,and they preen with pride when Esther brings up their ability to discover Caledon’s plans. The rebel is good at making them feel important, emphasizing the contribution they’ll be making by seducing the clerics and asking the right questions.
Ana watches on, and I see the discomfort in her face too. Now that they’re in front of her, she’s realizing the danger these women will be in. But she doesn’t interrupt. Maybe she’s finally grasping some of the hard, necessary costs of the battle ahead. The lesson she’s learning is one I picked up long ago: In war, you always find the price you’re willing to pay for victory—for survival.
Chapter 35
Morgana
“I’ve been basically stalking the man,” Alastor says. “He’s starting to notice.”
I sit with Tira playing cards as Leon and Alastor argue in our room at the Crossed Keys. We’ve been back in Tread for three days now, and I can tell Leon is getting restless. He thinks we’re wasting our time by focusing on this search for whatever Caledon was hunting down instead of strategizing how we’re going to tackle Oclanna. But I’ve insisted we sit tight for a little while longer, which means he’s turned his agitation on Alastor instead.
“And yet you’ve learned nothing,” Leon says skeptically. Now Alastor’s back on his feet again, Leon’s not pulling any punches.
“Oh, I’ve learned lots about Harman Sandale—like how he takes his tea, and this funny noise he makes when he’s thinking hard—I just haven’t got the information you want. My power’s still not back to normal. That Mal did a real number on me. I’ll need more time.”
There’s an odd note in Alastor’s voice, and I notice a light flush on his cheeks. I wonder if he’s embarrassed about not being able to work his magic. It must seem bewildering not knowing people’s true intentions when you’re so used to being able to just ask them.
“Besides, even when Idoget my powers fully back,” Alastor continues, “he’s going to notice me casually asking about any murders he was involved in fifteen years ago. He’s smart, and he’ll see past the sensic magic.”
“Let him,” Leon says. “I have no issue with him knowing I don’t trust him.”
Tira flips a card over, winning the hand, and I sigh.
“You’re not concentrating,” she chastises me. I’m not sure how I can concentrate when I’m stuck in the middle between Leon and Harman. And being cooped up in this little town isn’t helping.
There’s a knock at the door that Tira jumps up to answer.
Deedus, one of the rebels, announces, “Harman’s called a meeting. We have news.”
“Told you something would turn up,” I say to Leon as we ready ourselves to follow the rebel.
“Let’s just see what this ‘news’ is first,” Leon mutters.
We gather the rest of the fae. Instead of going back to the cellar network under the tents this time, Deedus leads us into the outskirts of Tread to something that looks like an outhouse behind a livery yard.
“Where are we going?” Leon asks, clearly irritated by the lack of explanation.
“Harman’s invited members of the Hand from the other bases. The usual cellars won’t hold us all.”
The outhouse is built up against a thick wall of stone. I’d thought it was just a bit of old wall at first glance—indeed, that’s clearly what we’re meant to think—but now I see that the stone is a natural formation. Deedus takes out a key and unlocks the shack, swinging the door open to reveal a steep incline down a path that must run beneath the rock.
Incendi lamps provide light as we descend. The buzz of voices grows louder as we get deeper underground.
The tunnel opens up into a cave that must be about fifty feet high. Four long tables are arranged into a square at the center. Three sides are filled with men and women ranging from around my age to the occasional rebel with wispy white hair. One table has been left empty, and while there’s no break in conversation, eyes turn toward us as we enter.
“How come you didn’t tell us about this place before?” I ask Deedus.
“Because your brother doesn’t trust us any more than Leon trusts him,” Alastor says frankly.
Deedus doesn’t deny it, merely gestures for us to join the meeting.
Harman is at the center of the table to our right, and once we’re settled, he stands up. A hush falls over the group.
“Our plans have borne fruit quicker than we expected,” he says. “As most of you know, thanks to the help of Princess Morgana and Prince Leonidas, we established new spies in Hallowbane’s pleasure houses.”
Eyes turn to us once again, curious and calculating. I pretend not to notice them, keeping my own fixed on my brother as he speaks.
