9
They left the body in the alley and covered him with the barest of consideration in refuse before they disappeared from the scene like ghosts. Sarim seemed to hold some reservations, but Valine squandered them as she guided him back through the market and into less-seedy—but certainly still seedy—establishments.
Ducking into a communal bathroom, Valine checked the stalls—empty—and reassessed her appearance while Sarim stood watch just inside the doorway. Sarim hadn’t lied, Valine couldn’t find a speck of blood on her person as she gazed into the mirror hanging over the sink, the edges of it chipped, and the whole murky. She was a bit dusty, so she wafted the worst of it from the linen, but a small bit would aid her endeavors today. She removed her gloves, and washed the still-imbedded blood from her nail beds, the chai and amber scented soap lightly dying her palms darker—better to hide any bloodstains, then. Tugging a few locks of her temporarily jet hair from its wrap, she arranged them over a shoulder, careful to tuck behind her ears. Smudging her heavy eye makeup into a deliberate style, she applied balm to her dry lips, and stuck in a pair of dangling earrings. The stones were golden topaz, citrine, and sapphire, set in pure silver. They hung heavy from her lobes as she ensured their visibility, swishing her head from side to side.
White linen. Citrus-toned jewels. Dark eyes. Black hair. Creamy skin. Lithe build.
“Passable?” she asked Sarim.
He canted his head in her direction, the golden sun catching the hard warrior planes of his face, revealing hollows and highlighting his arched cheekbones. As if lit from within by the burning star outside, his dark eyes glowed, discovering striations of gold and bronze. He truly was handsome, and even if she could only see half of the strong line of his nose and the barest hint of a widow’s peak from beneath the dark linen, it was undeniable.
“I would certainly mistake you—and I have met her myself.”
“It helps when your father whores about. You end up having one of those faces. See hints of yourself in every girl about your age, wondering if just maybe, those brown eyes are the same shade as yours, or the shape of your jaw is too like hers. Saints know I have at least nine illegitimate siblings, surely there are more.”
Sarim’s face turned questioning. “I didn’t realize you were legitimate.”
Valine cursed herself internally, but refused to let it show on her face, hiding it with a false smile she prayed reached her eyes. “My mother and father were married—I just don’t think he understood his vows. He was fond of other women.”
“He has since passed?”
Valine wondered if Malik had informed Sarim of her identity after all. This conversation was veering a little too close to one she’d already disclosed with the king.
“He has.”
“I am sorry.”
Valine smiled wickedly, a closed lip smirk as she looked down. “I’m not.”
Sarim held out his arm. “My father was a real piece of work, too.”
She took it. “Oh, do tell me, I wouldn’t mind bonding over shitty parents.”
Sarim threw his head back, and gave a hearty laugh; it warmed Valine’s heart to evoke such a warm and genuine sound from the warrior. She squeezed his arm in support as they exited the bathrooms together, and she felt a sheathed blade beneath her hand. If anyone noticed them, she thought they could imagine what they wanted about it. It would only serve her purposes better. She raised her chin at a superior angle.
“My mother died in childbirth, and saddled my father with four children he never wanted. He sold me to the Valmotti when I was three. I saw him only twice after that, and one of those times was a fluke. The other was for a lesson on family lore and Adraalian history—so I didn’t forget my heritage, supposedly. My being sold was the only way he thought he could pay off his gambling debts.”
Valine tsked. “Those pesky habits have a way of biting a person.”
Sarim shared a secret smile. “They do, don’t they?” He gazed ahead. “I don’t know what he did with my older brother, but he sent my sisters to live at a convent in Runell. At least that’s what I was told.” He sighed. “Frankly, I don’t know what to believe. I’ve never checked to see if this information is true.”
“Then why don’t you see?” Valine didn’t reveal her startle at the mention of her home country. “I’m certain Malik could arrange it if you wanted.”
Sarim scoffed. “He may be king, but sending a Valmotti warrior to a country we’re struggling to maintain peace with does not send a reassuring message.”
Valine narrowed her eyes. “I thought our tentative alliance with Runell was secure.” Runell and Adraali were both power hungry kingdoms, but one sought oppression, while the other, liberation.
“For a couple of years, it was. Until a week ago when the Gallaen princess was found dead and desecrated.”
Valine stopped in her tracks, peering up at Sarim in disbelief. “Princess Gloriana is dead?” Her voice was a low hiss, but she still leveled her eyes at the crowd, ensuring she was not overheard. The person she was supposed to be would already know this information.
“That’s why this plan was moved up—I thought you knew.”
She cursed herself. She was so focused on Nallia’s justice, and the assassination of Captain Ishaq that she’d neglected this vital piece of information. The puzzle that made up the royals was falling apart, old pieces disintegrating before new ones could be formed. If Crown Princess Gloriana was no longer, then that meant her younger sister, Princess Elliandra was now heir.
“I suppose I was otherwise engaged.”
Sarim measured her carefully, his eyes carefully calculating, and she could see doubt begin to creep into his expression. Not only had she botched the drug lord kill, but she was evidently lacking in the gathering of crucial information. She switched gears.
“Look, I was doing a job for a friend, and it took up a lot of my time. Normally, I don’t help friends this way, and normally, I keep an ear out for all avenues of gossip, but this is the one time I didn’t.”
Casting his gaze aside, Sarim seemed to struggle internally. “I worry for Malik, and as bad as it sounds, I was against him hiring you.” He held up a hand in protest. “Not for the reasons you think. Yes, you are a woman, but the only problem with that is that you are a clever, vicious woman, and Malik will like that too much.”
“Dear Sarim, I do believe you’ve paid me a compliment,” she teased, leaning into him and squeezing his arm tighter. He couldn’t see it, but she was grinning beneath her wrap.
He took a deep breath. “It’s dangerous being the object of a king’s affections. I’ve seen him become enamored, and then lose interest just as quickly, but this is the first time someone has equaled him, and aligned with him on so many levels.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“I’m trying to tell you that everything you are, is everything he wants, and you should think carefully about what that means to you.”
She met his eyes meaningfully, ensuring her conviction was conveyed. “I will.”
The conversation ended with a nod as they traversed into a thickening crowd, where Valine instantly sought out the woman and urchins. The particular street kids she was looking for were obvious, eyes eager with not only the glint of hunger, but anticipation. They knew coin was coming, and someone who looked like a royal would be the bringer of it.
As they passed, Valine discreetly flicked the three urchins three silvers. They caught each coin with quick fingers and even quicker bows. Silver changed hands and she stuck her own in her pocket. Before her very eyes, they vanished on scampering feet, their dirty cheeks tight with smiles. It had been so long since Valine was hard up for money, so she wasn’t quite sure how much a silver got one today, but when she first left her home, a single silver was food and board, with water and fresh linens for three days. It was also just food and board for a week. And she could stretch a single silver longer if she starved.
“That was a little obvious,” Sarim hissed, fingers biting into her upper arm as she easily glided towards the healer’s shop.
“Was it?” she asked innocently, so pure that Sarim instantly had his hackles up. It took him a few moments before he deflated and his grip slackened.
“You two literally have everything planned out.”
“And several back-up plans.” She held up a silver pin of the moon cycles that the urchins had slipped her. Taking it out of its clay imprint, she pinned it to Sarim’s breast. “Like I said—expectations.”
The road here widened around to accommodate a series of businesses lining up in an arc; from the left was a squat butcher shop, then a sapphire-signed tailor, a bakery with large windows, a narrow bookshop, a cozy café offering chai, and an apothecary. They entered the apothecary.
The brass bell above them announced their entry. They bypassed the greeting area and welcomed themselves to the back and only a step into the room had her nose assaulted with the scent of herbs; of star anise and lemongrass, rosemary and bergamot. The room was rough wood, the floor polished by footsteps alone, warm light spilled from gas light in an amber fixture, shelves full of books and drying herbs, anatomical models and posters scattered across tables and walls. At the center was a contraption of blown glass with bubbling liquid, and a mess of ingredients before it, lumped into indistinct piles. But what truly captured Valine’s attention was the presence of noctis root, blackwort, and vervain.
Saints and daemons.
Valine stumbled back a step, urging Sarim back towards the open door and fresh air.
“She’s making godsbreath. Stay away from that table.” Valine’s voice was low, but strained. She pointed at the red mush, black powder, and dried flower. It wasn’t combined or distilled yet, but when it was, it would be deadly.
Godsbreath was one of the most dangerous poisons in Enneive, its properties reacted poorly with moisture and oxygen, and when breathed into the lungs it caused the blood vessels to swell and the lungs themselves to explode, leading to the victim drowning and suffocating in their own chests.
Sarim’s fear flared in his eyes. “What about you?”
“I’m immune.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain later. Please just do what I say.”
His lips tightened; she could tell from the slight pucker of the linen. “Please be careful. Malik will have my head if anything happens to you.”
“I’d like to see someone try.”
“Valine.”
“Trust me.” She kept her eyes wide, pleading. She was skilled in the art of seduction, but she also knew parts of seduction that people didn’t like to talk about, and it involved groundwork, and groundwork was calculated. It was this calculation Valine used to her advantage, using the softest parts of her features to persuade him to do what she wanted.
He was silent for a long moment before he finally huffed a breath and put his hand to his head.
“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me.”
Suddenly, the curtain of glass beads tinkled from the other room, and a woman of about forty years appeared. Her hair was graying but mostly still brown, her light skin was creamy, her cheekbones high and round, eyes of chocolate with thin lines just whispering against the edges. She was slender with curves where every man wanted them, hands calloused, and fingertips stained. She stopped short and gasped before them, then immediately bowed.
“Your Highness.”
Because this woman thought she was in the presence of the Crown Princess of Luneth.