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  “Keep a weapon handy, just in case. If I give you the signal I want you to run, and don’t stop, even if I fall behind.”

  Katja knew Roza had been doing this for a long time. She had a reputation and had earned her promotion to head of the Yerskani network. Trying to swallow the huge lump in her throat Katja checked she could easily get to her hidden blade.

  “Who is he?” Katja managed to ask.

  “A speaker for the Silent Order,” whispered Roza, as if she feared that even saying their name too loudly would attract unwanted attention. The Silent Order was a league of assassins which some claimed to be as old as mankind. They had toppled rulers, started wars and changed the fate of nations, always carrying out their missions from the shadows.

  “Let’s go,” said Roza, squaring her shoulders, one hand resting on the dagger at her belt. Katja followed closely behind her and they crossed the street and entered the Blacksmith’s Arms.

  Roza went to the bar and ordered them drinks before carefully scanning the room. Her eyes settled on a lean man with grey hair sat with a petite brunette woman at a table in the corner. The woman was talking quietly but her hands were very animated, as if she were trying to restrain her anger.

  Roza approached and sat down opposite without invitation. The man offered them a warm smile while the young woman glared. Katja had the impression her annoyance was more to do with being interrupted than anything else.

  “Ben,” hissed the woman.

  “We’ll talk about it later, Munroe,” said Ben, cutting her off with a sharp one-handed gesture. She closed her mouth, crossed her arms and fumed in silence.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Roza, trying to give the impression that she was at ease, but Katja could see one hand still rested on her dagger.

  Studying the mismatched pair across the table Katja didn’t think Munroe looked particularly dangerous. Her companion was a different matter. Ben had an unnatural stillness to him, and although he smiled Katja could see that it was only skin deep.

  “You wanted to ask us something?” said Ben. He was speaking for the Order, not just himself.

  Roza took a sip of her drink first, perhaps to try and get rid of the same dry mouth Katja was experiencing. “Do you have any information, that you’d be willing to share, about Queen Talandra?”

  Roza didn’t need to say anything more. Munroe stopped sulking and was suddenly paying attention. Ben sat forward and Katja had the impression they were balanced on a knife-edge. At the slightest provocation he could erupt into violence.

  “I may have something,” said Ben.

  “Name your price,” said Roza.

  Ben laughed and sat back in his chair. The tension faded and the air of impending violence eased. Katja saw both Roza and Munroe visibly relax at the change in Ben’s attitude.

  “Even with your resources, I doubt you could afford it,” said Ben. He knew exactly who they were and who they worked for. “No, on this rare occasion I’m going to give you the information for free.”

  Katja wasn’t sure who was more surprised, her or Munroe. She was staring at Ben as if he’d just offered to strip and dance naked on the table. Roza looked sceptical but gestured for Ben to continue.

  “A few weeks ago someone approached the Order, via a third party of course, about a job that involved Queen Morganse.”

  Katja opened her mouth but Roza beat her to it. “I’m here about Queen Talandra.”

  Ben’s smile was chilling. “Removing your Queen was the second part of the job.”

  Katja’s hand tightened on her glass until her fingers turned white. Killing one Queen was unthinkable. The chaos it would unleash could reignite the simmering tensions in the west and start a new war. Killing Morganse, the Yerskani Queen, as well would be even worse. The rebellion which had driven the Chosen out of Perizzi had inspired others to fight back and reclaim their towns and cities from the zealots. Once all of Yerskania was free Morganse had turned her attention to her neighbours, helping them rebuild after the war. She was a hero to her people and many others across the west for her efforts.

  “Removing both Queens would unleash horrors I can barely imagine,” said Ben. “Despite the money offered we turned down the job. As did several people in the Families,” he said. Katja knew he meant the crime Families who ran the city’s underworld.

  Roza carefully wet her lips before asking her next question. They were getting into a very grey area and she didn’t know how much she could push, despite her own warning earlier about not pressuring Ben. “Can I ask who wanted to hire you?”

  “You can ask,” said Ben, smiling at them like a cat looking at a very small mouse. “Unfortunately I don’t know. The person who met with our contact didn’t know either.”

  “How can you be sure?” asked Katja. Ben turned his gaze on her and she felt pinned to her chair.

  “Because we asked him, very thoroughly,” he replied, offering her a wintry smile. “Whoever is behind it was very careful to insulate themselves. And that’s all I can tell you, except for one other detail. Whoever wanted to hire us has a lot of money. We always set the price, but their starting bid was significant.”

  “We’d hoped it was just a rumour,” muttered Roza.

  “Oh no, it’s real,” said Ben. “Someone is going to try and kill both Queens here in Perizzi.”

  Katja walked quickly along the streets, doing her best to burn off some of the excess energy currently making her hands and feet tingle. The threat against the Queen had her tied in knots. It was real. It was going to happen unless they could find out who was behind it. The anger bubbling up inside needed a release.

  Taking streets at random she went deeper into the seediest part of the city, moving with purpose. Despite the hour and being on her own, no one approached her. She passed through without incident and emerged beside the River Kalmei.

  Halfway across one of the narrow footbridges she paused, staring down into the murky brown water. A cool wind coming in from the sea cut through her clothes, sending a chill across her skin.

  Not far away Katja heard a brief scream. Common sense told her to ignore it, to go home or call the Watch. Instead she went towards the noise, following the muffled whimpers until she found two burly men robbing a third dark-skinned man, who looked like a merchant from the desert. One thug held the merchant from behind, a hand over his mouth and a knife at his throat, while the other searched him for valuables.

  “Is that any way to treat a visitor?” asked Katja, startling the thugs. The first span around with a blade in his hand while the other tightened his grip on the merchant. When they saw she was alone and wasn’t a member of the Watch they visibly relaxed, surprise changing to annoyance.

  “You should start running,” said one of the men with a wicked grin. “Because when we’re done with him, you’re next.”

  “I don’t have any money,” said Katja.

  “I’m sure you’ve got something I’ll like.”

  Fencing with words was clearly going to be of little use. Both of them looked witless, so she resorted to the direct approach. Katja lashed out with her belt, wrapping the knotted leather around the outstretched arm of the man nearest. With a twist and a yank the blade flew out of his grip, skittering away across the ground. Predictably he reached towards her with his other hand so she twisted the knotted leather tight, swivelled her hips and yanked as hard as she could, as if she were trying to pull him towards her. The thug was at least three times her weight, his stance was wide and she didn’t have any leverage. From her current position, Katja didn’t have the slightest chance of moving him.

  When he saw what she was attempting he instinctively pulled away. With a snapping sound his shoulder popped out of joint. The thug screamed and dropped to the ground, his arm bent at an unnatural angle. The other thug shoved the merchant away and moved towards her, knife held low.

  Katja stuffed the belt in one pocket and pulled out the long narrow blade from the other. The thug paused for a couple of
seconds, reassessing her before starting forward again with a shrug. He moved well for a man of his size, but she could read every attack from his body language before he moved. Katja swayed to one side and sliced him across the stomach, the tip of her blade drawing a line of red on his skin. It also cut his belt and a heavy pouch of money hit the floor with a metallic thump.

  The thug ignored it, his eyes never moving away from her face, even when the merchant scrambled to his feet and ran away down the street.

  “Now you owe us double,” he said.

  Katja waited, poised on the balls of her feet for his next attack. He feinted high with his dagger then tried to kick her legs out, but she saw it coming. Turning sideways on the spot she avoided the blade and lashed out with her heel, slamming it into a kneecap. With a hiss of pain the thug stumbled and then fell to one side, dropping his weapon. As he reached for it Katja cut him across the back of his hand.

  Pressing the blade against his throat she took his money pouch, before taking every coin from the other man as well.

  “We’ll find you,” one of the men called after her as she casually strolled away. “You’re dead. Dead!” he shouted. Katja didn’t turn around but gave him a dismissive wave over her shoulder, which only incensed him further. As he cursed her and promised bloody retribution the pace of the last few days and long nights finally started to catch up with her. By the time Katja reached her rooms her limbs felt heavy and she barely made it into bed before she collapsed.

  CHAPTER 7

  Talandra stared out the window of her office, ignoring for a few minutes the difficult decisions that needed to be made. A year had passed since she’d taken the throne of Seveldrom, but at times it felt as if it were only a few days. She’d spent more hours than she could count in this room, sat behind her desk, reading and signing bits of paper. Even as she thought about paperwork her mind tallied up what still needed to be done today.

  She also had several appeals from local people to deal with and then a formal dinner with the new ambassador from Shael. The country was still a smouldering ruin, free from the invaders that had occupied it during the war, but it would be a long time before any real sense of law and order returned.

  The capital city of Shael and surrounding areas were secure and free of bandits, policed by a combination of her warriors and local soldiers in training, but it would be years before they could free the other territories from the lawlessness that had overrun them. At the moment the country didn’t have enough food to feed all of its people and resources were scarce. She was helping with that too, shipping food west at the same time as trying to help the people become self-sufficient again, but progress was slow. Everything was currently piecemeal.

  She’d coordinated with nations in the west to liberate Shael at the end of the war, keeping the promise her father had made, but it was an ongoing problem. The country was broad and her resources finite. Talandra knew she could only do so much to help, but it didn’t stop her feeling that she’d failed Sandan Thule, the Shael Battlemage, who’d given his life to protect her city and its people.

  “I can hear you brooding about Shael from here,” said a voice from the other side of the room. “You’re doing all you can, but it won’t get better overnight.”

  She didn’t turn around. Her brother, Hyram, had become her constant shadow. After the first assassination attempt, which hadn’t come close at all, she had refused all suggestions about having a bodyguard. When the second attempt came two months after the first, and the assassin had made it onto the palace grounds, nothing she said made any difference. Hyram had taken on the responsibility and would not be turned aside.

  Shanimel, the head of her intelligence network, had been livid about the assassin getting so close and had gone to ground for two weeks to personally uncover those responsible. Talandra heard stories and saw two reports about a trail of bodies in the city. After that Shani had returned to her post and would only say that she had taken care of the problem. There hadn’t been an attempt on her life since, or if there had been any Talandra never knew about them.

  She heard a faint rustle and clink of metal. Glancing over her shoulder Talandra caught sight of a blur of black as Hyram shifted at his post. In a way some things had come full circle. Graegor had been an old friend of her father who had eventually become his bodyguard after an assassination attempt on his life. After her father was murdered by the Warlock, Graegor had protected and mentored her for a time. Although her brother was not nearly as foul-mouthed as the old General, the two men had many things in common.

  Against all sense Hyram had waded into the front-line fighting during the siege of her city. Mercifully his injuries had been mild, but the deep wound on his face had resulted in a nasty scar, turning his beard grey around it.

  Once again she had a tall, scarred and dangerous warrior, who wasn’t afraid to share his opinion, watching her back at all hours of the day. The only concession she’d insisted on was to have a second bodyguard of her choosing, as Hyram needed to sleep and attend to his other duties.

  Before she became Queen, women had not been allowed to join the army. She didn’t blame her father for this, it was an old tradition that had served her country and its people well for centuries, but the world had changed since the law had been written.

  Her people were known for being tall and strong, so it made little sense that a Seve woman couldn’t train and serve in the army. Both Morrin and Vorga had male and female warriors, but she had not used that as part of her argument to make the change. Many still hated both races for what their people had done during the war. The hard truth was that she had lost many warriors and needed more bodies to replace them. Halving the number of potential applicants made no sense.

  Once the law had changed many women had applied to serve. As she’d expected, many were already experts with a blade. Alexis was the best of them, a blonde who stood eye to eye with Hyram.

  The door to her office opened but Talandra didn’t turn around to see who had entered without knocking. That meant it was midday. Hyram and Alexis swapped over at exactly the same time every day.

  “You look like crap. You should get some rest,” said Alexis.

  Hyram grunted, but didn’t immediately leave. A strained silence settled on the room. Talandra could feel him staring at her back.

  “I’m fine, Hyram,” she said, watching a grey bird wheel about in the clouds above the city. It seemed to drift without effort on the thermals rising up from the streets far below. At times like these she envied the bird’s freedom.

  The door closed and a more comfortable and less tense silence returned. Alexis didn’t offer her opinion unless asked, whereas Hyram was never shy about saying what he thought. Some days she wasn’t sure who she preferred.

  Talandra had a few minutes of peace to sort through what she wanted to say, absently rubbing her stomach and thinking about the future.

  The door slammed open and her older brother Thias marched in waving a piece of paper.

  “What in the name of the Maker’s cock is this?” he demanded. Thias almost never cursed. Alexis wisely stepped outside again, quietly closing the door behind her. Thias continued to rage, pacing back and forth in front of Talandra’s desk. He rarely lost his temper and it never lasted long, so she let him run out of steam. Talandra made noises in all the right places and maintained eye contact, but her mind remained elsewhere.

  After a couple of minutes Thias had exhausted himself and flopped into a chair.

  “Well? What do you have to say?” he asked.

  “This isn’t a decision I came to quickly, Thias. Several times I’ve asked your opinion about the situation in Shael and each time you agreed that something more permanent needed to be done. All the help we’ve given to Shael is uncoordinated. There needs to be someone with vision we can trust to help them in the short term, and plan for the future.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think we were talking about me.”

  Talandra moved from behind h
er desk and sat down beside her brother. “Do you remember what you said to me when you gave up the throne?” asked Talandra. Thias had been first in line when their father had died but had given up his right to the throne.

  Thias brooded for a minute before answering. “I wasn’t ready.”

  “In the last year you’ve been a much needed cool head and wise counsel. But recently it’s been clear to me that you’ve outgrown the position. You’re ready, and Shael needs you more than I do. There’s so much work to do and it will take years. In some ways I envy you and the challenges ahead.”

  “Why? Aren’t you happy here?”

  Talandra considered her words carefully before answering. Thias had a sharp eye and missed very little. “I am, but I’m living in father’s shadow. Whenever they talk about the war, they speak of him. Our victory will be his greatest legacy. Mine will hopefully be one of lasting peace and prosperity.”

  “That’s not an easy challenge in itself. But I didn’t think you were so vain as to worry about what they’ll write in the history books.”

  Talandra laughed in spite of herself. “You’re right, I don’t care. But where you’re going, you’ll have a chance to make widespread and lasting changes.”

  “You have repaid the blood debt, Tala,” said Thias, taking one of her hands in his. The skin on his fingers was callused but his hands were warm. “Father would be proud.”

  “I hope so, but some days I don’t think we’ve done enough. They lost everything. Everything, Thias.”

  Her brother sighed and then nervously cleared his throat. “There’s also the other matter. The Princess.”

  “She’s the last surviving member of the royal family in Shael. She’s young and headstrong. People will try to take advantage of her, exploit her lack of experience and control her. You need to be there from the first day she takes the throne. She will need your support and guidance.”

  “She’s just a girl,” said Thias, pulling his hands away. Eighteen was young to sit on the throne and rule a nation, but historically others had done it before.