2. Ratter

RATTER

T he next afternoon, a frigid gust of air whipped my dark hair into a tangled mass of knots as I stood before the most dangerous man in the kingdom, King Rigol’s Master Spy and Torturer, waiting for him to pronounce his sentence.

I was nervous. So nervous, I could make out a faint, acrid stench of burning mint rising from the sweat on my neck. I was suddenly grateful for the icy blast, and that the man who stood in front of me was upwind. He noticed my fear, of course. But I had a good reason to be afraid, unrelated to my scent.

I’d committed an unforgivable crime, after all. Not the murder. But breaking my promise to the man who I owed everything… and getting caught.

Stupid, amateur move, Ratter.

I unwrapped my fingers from the handle of the same obsidian-jeweled knife I’d used to kill the asshole. Ah well, I’d lived a good seventeen years. And at least I’d die armed, and my executioner would make it fast.

General Vilkurn, my boss for close to nine years now, had saved me from a feral Alpha who’d trapped me in a cage when I was only seven. Then he’d given me a purpose when he made me his sole apprentice. Right now, though, his dark eyes appeared slightly demonic as they glittered in the early morning gloom. He let out a snarl that was almost a roar, loud enough for me to hear him over the wind on the battlements of the northern tower of the castle. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

I didn’t answer. I was pretty sure this was one of Vilkurn’s “don’t answer this if you want to live” questions.

“You single-handedly obliterated King Rigol’s hopes for a trade deal with Mirren’s northernmost seaport.” His voice got louder. “You murdered a royal duke , one in the direct line of succession to their throne, in the presence of his family.” Then, louder, “And you destroyed the possibility of an alliance by marriage with one of our own!”

He took a steadying breath, and I dared to interrupt. “They’re better off not marrying than being saddled with an ass like that one. Better off dead than married.” At least to that kind of an Alpha.

“Silence!” He leaned forward, and I wrapped my gray assassin’s cloak around me with my free hand, knowing that not even the poisons I carried in it would do me any good if Vilkurn had really decided it was time for me to die.

Always looking for an escape route—a habit Vilkurn himself had instilled in me—I flicked a glance out over the city of Turino. A flashing light at the top of one roof drew my attention, a coded signal.

Shit. Was something wrong with one of my street rats? Or my crew?

I snapped my attention back to the matter at hand as Vilkurn cursed softly.“Marriage is not a death sentence, Ratter.” He rubbed one hand over his brow, but I noted his other one was firmly clamped around the handle of a stiletto blade. His favorite method of assassination, though I was growing more certain by the second that he wasn’t going to kill me. When he spoke again, I understood he had far worse plans. “You can’t stay in Turino any longer, I’m afraid. You can’t even stay in the kingdom.”

I fought to control my reaction. “Exile?” I gasped. “Not that, please. I’m your best spy, Boss. I have work here?—”

“You are a liability!” he shouted. “You’ve killed four dignitaries in the past month alone.”

My jaw dropped wide for a moment. This was a steaming pile of bullshit. I didn’t mind being held accountable for murders I’d committed. But I hadn’t been on some sort of spree. “I stabbed one arserag , Boss!”

“You’ve killed a dozen in the past year.”

“A dozen? I only stabbed one. I just poisoned seven,” I protested, trying to keep my tone respectful, but failing when his eyes narrowed. “They got the antidotes.” Hells, I’d given the antidote myself to one of them a month ago, and slipped another dose in his tea when he was still laid up after the first week.

Of course, he was the only one who hadn’t deserved to die, and the only one Vilkurn had expressly forbidden me to murder. But I’d gotten flustered. I’d never reacted to anyone like I had to the man who’d shown up at the castle three months ago.

Serak Zellum. I’d first encountered the dark-haired, blue-eyed eighteen-year-old, painfully handsome fosterling a handful of years before at the same ball where my parents—Haven, a rare Omega, along with her three Alphas, Graham, Niko, and Rand—had adopted me and my crew. I hadn’t been impressed back then; he’d stared at me in an incredibly disconcerting way until I threatened to cut his eyes out.

He’d departed after a week, and I had thought he was gone for good. But he’d shown back up this autumn with a large group of self-important Mirrenese merchants and “diplomats.”

Mirrenese scoundrels, more like. My crew had been worked to the bone since their arrival, trying to keep track of the sneaky shits, and keep the royal children safe.

Serak wasn’t originally from Mirren, though. He came from the small, secretive island nation of Pict, the same place my mother had fled from with me when I was a baby. I was desperate to learn more about the country where I’d been born, though Vilkurn had made me vow not to make any clandestine trips there. Everyone who tried to land on their shores vanished. No one knew if they’d been killed, but it seemed a safe assumption.

But having a resident of Pict that I could subtly question was nearly as good as going there, and Vilkurn had assigned me the task of learning Serak’s secrets. That was the reason I’d been spending so much time around him.

Too much time. He was as close-lipped as a clam, cultivating a mysterious, brooding air with a mocking edge to it that was too annoying to be attractive. But for some reason, being near him had made me… Ugh. I hated even thinking of it. I knew what it meant when a girl my age started to smell weird.

When it happened four weeks ago, I’d panicked, and poisoned him with a near-fatal dose of candellia root. Of course, I’d rushed him the antidote soon after. He didn’t deserve to die just because I couldn’t control my… urges.

Well, especially not before Vilkurn and I finished investigating. Serak’s presence here was so odd. Pict never sent their royalty to foster outside the island. Hells, no one had even known they had royalty. Then Serak had shown up at a Mirrenese court as a gangly boy, with a crown missing half its gems to trade for being allowed to foster on the continent.

He wasn’t gangly now, and he should have recovered much faster than he had. Shit. Maybe I’d overdosed him. Was he a Beta?

He couldn’t be. Not only had I reacted to being near him, he was the size of an Alpha, and had a distinctive scent. Peculiar, even. Copper and metal, like the air that blew across the blacksmith’s anvil, mixed with blood. Intriguing.

So intriguing you may have fatally poisoned him, you fuckwit.

I hated when I’d done something wrong. It didn’t happen that often, but guilt left a terrible taste in my mouth. Maybe I needed to chew on a taffy. I had one in my cloak somewhere.

“Are you even listening to me?” Vilkurn’s tone was as sharp as I’d ever heard.

“Yes, Boss,” I snapped out, shivering from the wind and his anger. “You were saying that the candellia antidote only works half the time for Betas. I know that, sir.”

“Then you should know how many you’ve killed. Four of them died before they got back to their homes, and two of the others are not far behind. Zellum is the only one who might live. And don’t lie to me. In addition to that man yesterday, after I expressly forbade you to use any more poisons”—he paused when I curled my lip at him; I was still pissed about that—“you killed four others with a blade in the past month. I’ve been up to my ears trying to think of plausible excuses for their deaths, and hiding the bodies outside our borders.”

I had no idea who he meant. “Who?”

To my shock, he listed another four of the fools who’d tried to take advantage of me in one way or another over the past few months while they’d been protected by diplomatic immunity. I’d contemplated adding their deaths to my packed schedule this year, but I hadn’t actually gone through with it. I’d put them on my to-do list, though, and planned to track them down when I had some time. When they’d vanished over the past few weeks, I’d assumed Vilkurn had taken care of it for me.

Now I was vexed. They’d been offed before I could get to them? And not by Vilkurn?

“Boss, I ain’t lyin,” I told him, my street rat accent making an appearance as it always did when I got upset. “I thought you did those four!” I’d heard rumors of some of Vilkurn’s men sneaking out of the borders with sacks full of “cattle feed” that had bloodstains on the burlap bags. I’d joked to one of my brothers about Rimholt’s new herds of carnivorous cattle. If only cattle would eat corpses, I wouldn’t have been forced to carry the assassins and feral Alphas I’d taken out over the years to the accommodating, discreet pig farmer who lived a half day’s ride toward Starlak.

“I’m the queen’s consort, a General, and the damned Master Spy of Rimholt. If I’d ‘done them,’ I sure as all hells would have covered my tracks.”

I blinked. That was true. No one knew Vilkurn’s kill count; he never left evidence. Also, I was pretty certain it would take a scroll the length of the Great Hall to write them all down.

“How’d they die, then?”

His jaw clenched as he stared at me. “Slit throats, and hanging from the Western Wall before dawn. Queen Vali caught wind of the last one. It scared her.”

Fuck. Hanging from the castle walls, and Vilkurn didn’t know who’d done it? What was worse, I hadn’t heard of them being found? There were going to be some hard questions asked at the next all-hands meeting of my street rats.

“Of course it scares Queen Vali. It scares me . How’d you keep this from me, Boss? Why?” I thought I’d known everything that happened in Turino. “If someone’s killin’ in my city, I’ll?—”

“You’ll do nothing. It won’t be your city anymore, Ratter. You’ve gone too far.” His voice was far louder than the wind now, and I knew there was no convincing him.

I shivered, but not from the cold. Pain I could handle. Even death. But being torn away from my city, my crew? I wouldn’t survive it.

His hand landed on my shoulder, in what might have been a fatherly gesture. I shook it off. “Was I supposed to just let them feel up my tits, Boss? That’s what the rat bastard yesterday was doing in the middle of that fucking waltz. And he’d tried to grope Verity right before.”

Vilkurn sucked in a breath. “He did what?”

“You heard me.”

“Ratter, are you telling me the men you killed… they’ve been…” His eyes flashed. “Attempting to harm you? Your little sister?” I could almost hear him thinking. Queen Vali and her consorts had five children, the eldest of them eight years old. All of them vulnerable. Their oldest daughter was younger than Verity, but she’d been asking to start attending balls. What if she had been the one on the dance floor with the duke?

Though I was almost certain her father, General Axe, the King’s Executioner, would have done a better job at chopping off all the duke’s parts than I had.

I blinked slowly when Vilkurn repeated his question. “Harm. Pretty word for it, but yeah.” Those dark eyes dug into me, but I forced my gaze to move behind him, to the flashing light. The code was erratic, and I couldn’t read the flashes. I was trying to think who it could be when I realized Vilkurn was saying something important.

“...still, it’s been decided. You’ll go to Verdan first, to study with Valerie, the Queen of Death, and one of her associates. I’m assigning you as a translator and guard to a merchant group heading there. You have orders to stay away from the castle from now on. Rest assured, I will keep a close eye on the remainder of the Mirrenese contingent.”

“Why do I have to stay away?”

Vilkurn smirked. “Another of their nobles has vowed to get revenge for his cousin’s death.”

I scoffed. “I’m not scared.”

“No, but this one is a seven-year-old, who arrived with your Aunt Cilla’s retinue. She’s afraid he’ll do something unwise.”

I knew better than to underestimate a child with a grudge. They trained them to the sword young in Mirren, and while he wouldn’t be a match for me, I didn’t want to hurt a child inadvertently. “Fine,” I agreed. My favorite aunt was back in Rimholt for the Solstice celebrations, and to spend some time with her best friend, the queen. “Can I at least sneak in and visit her rooms?” She hadn’t been at the ball last night.

“Not unless you want to witness her heat.”

“Oh.” I wrinkled my nose. I’d been around during one of those, and it was enough to last a lifetime. The way Alphas and Omegas behaved during those cycles was disgusting. And only slightly fascinating. I nodded, changing the subject. “How long will I be in Verdan City?”

“Until I can orchestrate a way for you to get safely over the border and into Starlak.”I made a face, and he nodded grimly. “I know. It’s a terrible country for women, so be on your guard. But you know they have herbs and poisons we can’t find anywhere else.”

Now I had to fight a smile. I loved poisons more than I did most people. I’d inherited quite a few vials when I killed a Guild assassin seven or so years before, but I always wanted more. The Starlakian ones were mysterious and fascinating, some with no known remedies. If only Vilkurn would give me permission to test them out on a few of the Mirrenese delegation…

I tried to focus back on what he was saying.“…but I don’t want you anywhere near their capital, Wargate. After Starlak, you’ll spend a few months in Gaelar. Your grasp of their language is still too weak, and your accent atrocious. Then to the nearby islands, and perhaps a quick tour around the continent to Mirren, once they’ve forgotten you’re the reason their royal succession is in jeopardy.”

“Wait, what the… Why are you sending me to all those places?”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “You can’t learn everything you’ll need in this small city, Ratter. Our kingdom’s next Master Spy must travel to all the known lands.”