Sins of a Ruthless Rogue

Again, easier if you aren’t tagging along.”


She desperately wanted to know what Clayton had decided. Yet again, she realized she’d only slow the two men down.

Besides, it was chilly without Clayton’s extra warmth, so she nodded.

Clayton handed Olivia a knife. “Use this if you need to.” Then the two men were gone.

As she stepped inside, she copied the elderly man who’d entered the church just before her, kneeling to cross herself. The walls of

the church were hidden behind gilded, bejeweled icons, and the haze of hundreds of small, flickering candles.

An old man knelt a few feet in front of her in the empty center of the church, his forehead resting on the stone ground. His simple

dedication was a perfect contrast to the riches around him. A few other worshippers huddled by various icons, either silently bowed

or whispering quiet supplications between kisses to the stylized saints.

Her vicar would no doubt have palpitations at such blatant idolatry, but Olivia sensed a certain enviable sincerity in all of it.

She made her way to a section of wall that was unoccupied by other worshippers. The small engraving under the icon said St.

Eulalia. Olivia didn’t know what she was a saint of, but the woman was lying nearly dead under a blanket of snow.

The stern-eyed saint watched her reproachfully.

Olivia glared back. The candles before her sputtered in a gust of cold from the opening doors. Two priests entered, their long robes

damp at the hem from the snow.

“I’ve heard General Smirken is already speaking to the czar about removing three of the priests from his council,” one of them said.

“The people will never stand for it.”

“Yesterday. But after the revelations about Metropolitan Stanislav killing those girls, things aren’t so certain. People are angry that—

” But their conversation was silenced after they passed through the richly decorated screen that concealed the altar, leaving Olivia

straining to hear that last bit of gossip.

Olivia dipped the wick of her candle into the dwindling flame of the only candle by St. Eulalia, the candle little more than a puddle of

wax.

She looked up when someone else entered the church. It wasn’t Clayton but a well-dressed woman heavily cloaked in furs. A few

wisps of the woman’s red hair curled around her face.

Red hair?

“Kate?”

Kate whirled, relief crossing her expression. “You’re here. But where’s Clayton?”

Olivia frowned. “How did you know we were here?” They hadn’t seen her since they’d left her home yesterday.

“Because I knew the flag was here. It was meant for me.”

Dread twisted down Olivia’s back. She pulled out the dagger. “You’re one of the agents.” The words seemed to emerge from her

mouth too slowly.

The other woman nodded, holding out her hands to show they were empty. “I’m not armed. I came here to confess.”

Olivia tightened her grip on the knife.

“I knew if you broke the code, you’d go to the places where the signals were given. I hoped I could find you.” The other woman’s face

was drawn and tired. “If I was still working for them, why would I give myself away?”

“You could be planning to kill us.”

“Again, why would I have told you who I was first?”

Olivia suspected Clayton would have been able to think of a reason, but she couldn’t. She slowly lowered the dagger.

Kate exhaled. “I need your help. Well, as loath as I am to admit it, I need Clayton’s help.”

“With what?” Olivia tensed when Kate’s hands disappeared into her reticule, but she only emerged with a candle of her own.

Kate lit her candle. The flame wavered in her shaking hand.

“You have to understand.” Kate set her candle on the ground, letting her hands hover over it for a moment as if to warm them. “I saw

so many horrors on my travels that never made it into my book. Children with their stomachs bloated from starvation while fields

heavy with the czar’s grain mocked a few dozen yards away. Serfs tortured by their masters until they were barely recognizable as

human.” Kate flinched at some remembered horror. “Whole towns without men because they dared rebel against the emperor.

Other towns stripped bare by the war. Filth, disease.”

Olivia had seen hints of that in Kate’s writing. “So you chose Vasin?”

Kate glanced around the small church. “I forget you only know of Vasin through Clayton and that fool Arshun. Vasin was”—Kate

shook her head slowly, her face serious—“so many things. Charismatic. Brilliant. Yes, he was ruthless, but that was because he had

such a pure vision of what Russia could become. A soft man could never free Russia.” Kate’s eyes gleamed when she spoke, a

zeal that Olivia never suspected she harbored.

“Then why are you here?”

“I didn’t agree to help Arshun.”

“What were you supposed to do when you saw the flag?” Olivia asked.

“Vasin had me gathering information on the empress these past few years. Nothing as damaging as what they had on the

metropolitan—”

“Wait, what metropolitan?”

“The archbishop who was just arrested for killing those girls. Vasin placed one of his revolutionaries in that household as well. A

clerk, I believe.”

“And you were assigned to the empress?”

Some of Olivia’s shock must have come through in her voice because Kate’s jaw worked for several seconds before she spoke.

“There are things going on in this empire that are wrong. The people need a voice in their own government. My opinion of that hasn’t

changed.”

“Then why not reveal the information you have? You think it is a noble goal. How can you give up on it?”

Candlelight flickered over Kate’s pale face, making her resemble one of the icons surrounding her. “I thought the results would justify

the evils I had to do.”

Didn’t they? Why did it sound so wrong when someone else uttered those words?

Kate rubbed her eyes, then closed them for a minute. “Empress Elizabeth isn’t at all like I expected. She’s shy and kind. I can’t

betray her trust. And I don’t want her killed.”

“Surely, the good of many is more important than one woman.”

Kate’s gaze sharpened. “Are you trying to convince me to change my mind?”

Olivia’s cheeks heated. “No.”

“Then what are we discussing?” Some of Kate’s pluck returned as she studied Olivia. “Is this about you and Clayton? Your mill?”

But Olivia wasn’t ready to discuss her quandary with anyone.

Kate sighed. “Never mind. I suppose you have no desire to share those things with me anymore. But I can tell you what helped me

decide. I’ll have many opportunities to change Russia. But this will be the only chance I have to save the empress. There is no going

back from that.”

Could this apply to Olivia? What if Clayton followed through with his plans to destroy the mill? Could she rebuild it?

No.

Not once Clayton knew the truth.