Frisha gasped. “He didn’t.”
“Oh, I am afraid he did. I forget, sometimes, that you were not raised in high society. When it comes to these things, discretion is the only bound.”
“You mean, you were okay with … it?”
“No, of course not. It tore my heart open, but there is nothing to be done for it. Out of sight, out of mind, so they say.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, some women choose to remain ignorant, but my mind would never let it go. I recruited people—the staff, mostly—and some of our friends to keep an eye on him. They let me know when things were not as they should be, and I made sure that he knew that I knew.”
“But, what good would it do to know if you can do nothing about it?”
Hilith shrugged. “Maybe no good, except that I felt better when he knew he could not get away with hiding these things from me. But, perhaps, it may be of use in the future. You never know. For a woman in our position, yours especially, it is important to build strength. Knowledge is power, you know.”
“So I have heard,” she said.
“Still, King Rezkin’s ward is a strong, female swordmaster that he just knighted. I hear she is on the list to leave with him on the morrow.”
“Well, she is a royal guard …”
“Yes, convenient that.” Hilith paused to let the message sink in and then cautiously said, “You know, I see a bit of myself in you—when I was younger, of course. I am a well-traveled woman, and I care about you. I would be willing to keep an eye on him for you.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Of course. But, well, I would need to be near him. If only there were a way for me to be included in his traveling party. I am not without skills. I could be useful. With a good word from someone he trusts, he might consider adding me to the list.”
“Oh, I,”—Frisha smiled hesitantly—"perhaps, but it won’t be necessary. You shouldn’t be placed in such a position, and I don’t feel comfortable with others spying on Rezkin.”
Hilith swallowed her anger and frustration. She had overplayed her hand. Frisha did not yet trust her. She smiled placatingly and said, “I only want to help, but I understand. If you change your mind, I am at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Lady Gadderand. If you don’t mind, though, I think I’d like to rest a bit.”
“Most certainly. I will see you at dinner, then.”
Hilith left Frisha’s quarters deflated. There was no way she would be able to convince anyone else to help her get on that list. She would have to find another way. As she turned the corner, she passed Princess Ilanet. She watched as the princess entered the quarters she shared with Frisha and then turned her gaze on the princess’s guard.
“Excuse me,” she said in the sweetest tone she could muster. “You are Lus, correct? I have seen you around. I hope you do not think this too forward, but I was wondering if you might like to take a turn about the garden with me.”
The sky was grey the next day as the ship passed beyond the corveua. Within hours, the wind began to whip across the deck in great gusts, and the clouds had grown ominous, darkening to nearly black. The waves rose higher, and some of the sailors began to mutter that sea demons were awake and angry. Reaylin had her work cut out for her as the only healer on the ship. By midmorning, the sky began to fall in torrential rain, and any unnecessary personnel were ordered to remain in their quarters. Wesson and Mage Threll did their best to guard the ship from the worst of the waves and wind, but neither could keep it up for long.
“Why did you bring her?” Farson spat. The ship lurched, and he grabbed hold of a thick rope that had been used to secure a stack of crates to the inner hull.
“She has useful skills,” Rezkin replied. He began replacing the items in the trunk he had been inspecting before they rolled away.
An overhead lamp swung wildly, nearly struck the beam, and caused shadows to dance eerily around the hold. Farson narrowed his eyes. “You did this to vex me. Is this my punishment for keeping information from you?”
Rezkin said, “Rule 19—plan with logic and without vengeance or favor.”
Farson hissed, “These people are ruthless.”
“Should I treat Mage Threll with favor because she is your kin? She is here because she has useful skills, and she requested the assignment.”
“You did not bring any of your kin.”
“None of them have useful talents or skills for this matter, except for my uncle, and he is as likely to aid the Adana’Ro as he is me. I already have to keep an eye on you, and I also must determine why Lus slipped aboard without permission. He is supposed to be watching Ilanet.”
“I have better things to do with my time than watch a spoiled princess,” said the assassin as he stepped out of a shadow.
Rezkin said, “If you are here to join the Adana’Ro against me, I will destroy you before you cast your first dagger.”
Lus held up his hands. “I am not your enemy. I did not know that we go to the Adana’Ro until now.”
“You boarded a ship without knowing its destination?”
“I knew you were headed to Ferélle. I wanted to find out why. Everyone who knows has been tight-lipped about it.”
“I am not buying your story,” Rezkin said, bracing himself against a mound of sacks as the ship lurched.
Farson’s sharp gaze probed Lus. “Who are you, really?”
Lus grinned and leaned back against the wall as the ship rocked in the other direction.
Rezkin said, “We go to the Adana’Ro, and he must know who you are before we enter their domain. You tell him, or I will.”
“Very well.” With a nod toward Farson, Lus said, “He and I have already come to an understanding.”
“Yes,” said Rezkin, “I am sure it has something to do with which of you will kill me first.”
Lus’s smile fell. He said, “Has anyone ever told you that you have trust issues?”
With a scathing look at Farson, Rezkin said, “Apparently, I have died more times than they cared to count, and I do not desire to do it again soon. I think more than once is enough for a lifetime.”
Farson huffed. “How was I supposed to know? You went in for healing. You came out alive and well. That you had survived was a more likely scenario than that you had somehow returned from the dead!”
Lus’s gaze was suffused with fervent awe. “It is true, then? You cannot die?”
Rezkin frowned. “I just told you. I have died many times.”
“But you do not stay dead.” He turned to Farson and said, “My name is Ikaxayim. You may call me Xa. I am Jeng’ri of the Order, and I am a loyal servant of the Riel’gesh.” He bowed toward Rezkin with the reverence due a god.
Farson rolled his eyes and sighed. He turned to Rezkin with a worn visage and said, “You. You are the Riel’gesh? You are the Raven? In all the time I was avoiding you and worrying over Nanessy, I was not thinking about the Raven. I should have known.” He shook his head. “I did know, when I first heard of him, but I dismissed the notion. It was too public, and it made no sense.” Pointing a finger at Rezkin, he said, “I knew you would hunt me. Why would you begin a mass appropriation of the criminal underworld? Even knowing you as I do, I would not have thought you could do it so quickly while simultaneously tracking me to Skutton. You collected the heirs of great houses and the general and soldiers and strikers and a battle mage and a healer—and the Black Hall! Why would you take over the Black Hall? You are a fiend!”
Rezkin frowned. “The strikers were dead. I needed a spy network to find you.”
With a blank expression, Farson said, “You took over every criminal organization in Ashai to find me? You broke into the Golden Trust Bank! You killed hundreds of people. You killed a marquis—a marquis!”
“He was in my way,” Rezkin said defensively. “And he threatened my friends.”
“Rezkin, you have destroyed an entire kingdom just to find me!”