The Traitor's Game

  She walked faster. So did I. "Gerald planted it, then, on your orders. That's why he went down the wall first! But why would he go to all that trouble?" I suddenly stopped, certain I was correct. Wishing I wasn't. "The dagger in that burlap sack is a fake."

  She stopped just ahead of me, but would not turn around. Her voice was commanding, unwavering. "The game is over, Simon."

  Which one--hers or mine? My game had gone exactly as I'd intended, although it was nothing compared to the game she'd been playing against us. Everything that had felt like our discovery was a trick she must've been planning since the night we captured her carriage. It wasn't our idea to search the pit, it was hers. She'd wanted me to notice the burlap sack beneath her feet, to force her to hand it over, because that was more plausible than her offering it to us. Tenger's ambition, Trina's desperation ... my emotions. She'd used all of it against us. Against me. Had anything been real?

  My muscles tensed and I crossed in front of her. "You gave Tenger a fake dagger! What do you think he'll do when he figures that out?"

  Her eyes became slits of anger. "Well, I don't know. Threaten me? Threaten my one true friend?" I flinched at her words, but she continued spitting them out. "There is nothing more he can do to me."

  "There is always more he can do. Believe me, Kes, there is a reason the Coracks have survived this long. When Tenger figures out what you've done, he will make things worse. Killing Darrow will only be the beginning."

  "And what if I hadn't given him something in that pit? Would I still be alive?"

  No, she wouldn't. And if that was her only reason for giving Tenger a fake weapon, then I would have understood. But there was more, and it was worse.

  I held out my hand to her. "Let me see your palm again, the one with the burn."

  She glared at me, then did as I asked. I touched her palm, lightly brushing my finger along the edge of the burn. "Gerald went to the dungeons, not you. He planted the fake dagger in the pit, not you. This wasn't caused by a torch, like Trina thought." Now I looked up at her and saw a flash of panic in her eyes. "Where did this burn come from?"

  "Asking questions is not how the game works."

  "Then I'll say it: You found the real Olden Blade."

  She bit her lip, keeping her attention on the ground. Looking anywhere but at me. Looking as if she wished the earth would split apart wide enough to swallow her up.

  I felt a split of my own. To succeed, the rebellion had to find the Olden Blade. Getting it was my entire purpose for being here in the first place. I wanted to be right about my guess.

  And I hoped I was wrong. If Kestra had found the Olden Blade, and passed a fake one on to Tenger, then she was in serious trouble. I would not be able to protect her from the consequences of that decision.

  "Answer me, Kes."

  Finally, she nodded.

  The gesture was small, a slight tilt of her head that would've been imperceptible had I not been studying her so closely. Yet the revelation still hit me like a punch to the chest.

  She had found the Olden Blade.

  Which led to the larger question involving that burn on her hand, a question I barely dared to ask. Taking a deep breath, I whispered, "Did you claim it? Kes, are you the Infidante?"

  Simon repeated his question a second time, or maybe a third time before I heard him, the urgency rising in his voice.

  I couldn't look at him, and not because I was afraid of what I'd see in his eyes, but for the truth he'd see in mine.

  I started with the easiest end of the conversation: "I was not the only thing my mother--Lily Dallisor--saved from the dungeons."

  Except for an arched eyebrow, he barely moved. "She smuggled out the very weapon her husband had been searching for?"

  "According to the diary, Lily believed the dagger might save me one day, from her husband. She hid it in her room, the one place in Woodcourt that Henry Dallisor never allowed to be disturbed or searched, because of his love for her."

  His eyes tightened on mine. "And you tried to claim it?"

  "I thought maybe as an Endrean--" I swallowed hard, pushing down the frustration and feelings of failure, and the idea that at my best, I would never be anything more than an outcast. "I had to know."

  "And?"

  His voice was tender, seeming genuinely concerned for me. Which made this harder.

  He might have forgotten he was holding my hand, or maybe why he was holding it, but when I clenched the palm again, he glanced down at it, then back at me.

  Fighting the worst of my emotions, I said, "If the dagger does not want you, it will let you know. This burn marks my attempt to claim it, and my failure."

  He nodded, then folded his hand over the back of mine, drawing it closer to him. Drawing me closer to him, into his arms, where I could have remained forever. What emotions was I feeling from him? Relief? Hope? To him, this wasn't failure. It was deliverance.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. "This is good, Kes. For us."

  Us. I liked the sound of that and mirrored his smile. He was right. No one else had to know of my bloodlines. I could choose my own future.

  I could choose him.

  My eyes invited him closer, and his grin widened. His breath greeted my cheek, and my heart pounded. With a hint of a smile, my lips parted.

  But as he moved toward me, I whispered, "Wait."

  Somewhere on the road below, the sounds of an approaching wagon echoed. I ducked low in the weeds with Simon beside me.

  It was an old wagon with an arched canvas cover, headed west on the road below. The driver was even older and probably wouldn't notice much around him, might not hear as well as he used to.

  Might not realize he was about to carry extra cargo.

  I looked over at Simon, feeling a spark of hope. "We could walk to Silven, or catch a ride."

  He nodded, though the seriousness in him had returned. He had one question left to ask, and I knew he would soon. But I was finished giving him answers. Our game could go no further.

  We stayed low as we plowed through the grasses, hurrying toward the road. The driver was singing to himself, a rousing tune that would be grounds for his arrest if a Dominion soldier heard it. Music was important to Halderian traditions, so Endrick made any form of it illegal, except when it was performed in honor of his presence. As if any singers could swallow their fear of him enough to croak out a few notes.

  When the wagon rode by, Simon and I bolted from the roadside and took up chase. Simon reached the back of the wagon first, grabbing the rear board and hefting his weight up on the body bar. He stretched out a hand for me, and I took it, letting him lift me up too. He helped me squeeze beneath the canvas first, then followed me inside. The wagon never slowed down. The driver didn't know.

  There wasn't much back here. The wagon bed was about half full of hay, hence the reason for the canvas, to keep it dry in case of rain. Two wood trunks sat on either side of the wagon. A quick peek into each trunk only revealed clothes, one for men, and the other full of dresses. Food would have been better. On the wagon floor near the backboard was a tablet, similar to my father's. That meant our driver was either loyal to the Dominion, or a trader. Or both. A near-perfect image of my face was displayed on the tablet, with a message below it that read, "Kestra Dallisor, Reward for Return." Lovely. A reminder that the Dominion could, and would, follow me into any corner where I might try to hide. Worse still, a reminder of the trouble I was introducing to Simon's life, regardless of the Olden Blade.

  I'd have crushed the slab if I had both a hammer and an indifference to whether the driver heard me, but since neither of those held true, I picked up the slab and dumped it out the back of the wagon.

  Simon had been watching me with a pronounced frown. "You can't destroy every tablet, Kes. A lot of people will see that message."

  "Outside Highwyn, most people don't have tablets." And for those who did, this was simply another problem I'd have to deal with.

  But not right now. The hay beck
oned me to rest, and Simon would benefit from sleep too. He removed his sword and laid it within reach. I patted down a place beside him, resting against his arm, though I was surprised he didn't pull me in any closer.

  Tension was thick in his voice when he said, "We still need to talk about the dagger."

  "Hush. We need this ride more. No talking."

  Obviously, we needed to be quiet, but our aged driver was still singing, and between that and the crunch of the wagon wheels on the dirt road, he wasn't likely to hear us.

  Simon kept pushing. "Where is the Olden Blade now?"

  The final question I knew he'd ask.

  My answer was ready. "It's safe, and my secret alone. There are no remaining clues to its whereabouts. When we get to Tenger, I'll tell him the terms of our agreement will change. If anything happens to me, that dagger will be lost forever."

  He scoffed. "You're going to blackmail the Coracks?"

  "They blackmailed me. I think it's fair."

  "Tenger is not interested in fairness. He's interested in winning."

  "So am I." With that, I rolled away from him, taking a few breaths in hopes of leveling my temper.

  "Don't turn away. We have to settle this."

  "It is settled, Simon. You just don't like the answer." He protested that, but I ignored him, determined to either sleep or pretend to.

  Beside me, I felt his energy stirring like a boiling pot. It would frustrate him to wonder how close he had come to getting the Blade, and how far from it he was now. I knew he'd still try to get answers from me, but it wouldn't work. He'd learn nothing about the Blade, not until I was ready. With those thoughts swirling in my head, it was a long time before I fell asleep. When I awoke sometime later, he had fallen asleep too.

  Our driver was no longer singing, but a light rain pelted the canvas. If we were careful, the rainfall would mask any sound of our being in here.

  I studied Simon, still asleep close beside me. A small scar lined one eyebrow. I'd never noticed that before. When he was awake, there was always a tension in his expression, even when he was smiling. But now, he looked younger, in need of tenderness rather than another fight. If I were anyone else, I could have been that person for him. I could have shared my heart with him and together, he and I would have faced whatever the future held.

  If I were anyone else.

  That single thought put an ache in the back of my throat, one that threatened to choke me if I couldn't distract myself. Then I remembered the trunk next to me, full of dresses. Perhaps this trunk offered a greater blessing than if it had been filled with coins. I pushed through the dresses until I found one that should fit me and that was slightly less hideous than the others. It was an off-shoulder pale green gown with a cream lace corset, one I could tie without help. No beadwork or sash seemed to belong to this gown, but the poor rarely wore those anyway. The dress possibly outdated Antora itself, and there was a tear in one seam of the arm, but who was I to judge? Last night, I'd cut off the entire bottom half of my skirts, which now dangled unevenly just below my knees. My overdress was stained with mud, its original color unrecognizable. And I was sure the fabric had picked up any number of odors from the dungeons, a smell I had no desire to remember.

  I checked again to be sure Simon was asleep, then removed my overdress. Beneath it, the upper half of the shift was intact, and the green dress's long skirt would hide the ruined lower half anyway. I didn't find any cloaks in the trunk, but the sleeves of the dress were long and I had Simon to help warm me. This dress was an unforgiveable offense to fashion, but it was good enough for now. I'd just avoid looking down at it. Forever, if necessary.

  As soon as I finished, I turned to see Simon lying on the hay with his hands behind his head, staring at me with a smile on his face.

  I tilted my head, amused by the gleam in his eyes. "You were watching me?"

  His grin widened, suddenly mischievous. "Only for the last few minutes ... unfortunately."

  Playfully, I swatted at his shoulder, but he caught my hand and pulled me down to him, face-to-face. The quiet laughter between us quickly became serious. Time itself seemed to slow. He was staring at me again but I knew he would not let me go. Nor did I want him to.

  He leaned up on one arm, bringing his body closer to mine. His lips closer to mine. Our noses touched, and his breath was on my cheek, a reminder for me to exhale, if I could. Then his hand was on my waist, and I brushed my fingers across his shoulder. When he drew back again, enough that our eyes met, his gaze burrowed so deep into me that I felt myself letting go of the outside world. Letting go of my past and my worries and everything that stood between him and me. Letting go of my last secret.

  No, not that one.

  But it seemed he was going to try. Keeping his voice low, he said, "I'm going to make a guess. If I'm right, our game continues."

  I groaned. "No, Simon--"

  His knuckle followed my jawline. "You want us to be closer, but it frightens you."

  Fear? No, it was bigger than that. Only three nights ago, he had proclaimed his hatred for me. Could that have changed so fast? He was still under oath to the Coracks, and sworn to kill anyone in my bloodline. Fear was the smallest description of what I felt.

  His fingers reached my hair, pushing and twisting through the strands. He moved his thumb to trace across my cheek softly, dizzyingly. "You trust me, and you don't. You believe in my purpose, but not in my leader. You believe in me, but--"

  "I do believe in you, Simon. I believe in your heart and your passion. I know who you are, and who you are meant to be, and I believe in you to become that person. But I need you to believe in me too."

  Somehow, for as good as that had sounded in my head, it had been the wrong thing to say. His tone cooled as he whispered, "Where is the Olden Blade, Kes?"

  I pressed my lips together, staring at him just as intently, but making my refusal clear.

  "I'm not asking for Tenger's sake, or Trina's. This is just between you and me."

  "And your oath to the Coracks. Correct?"

  His eyes flashed and the warmth between us frosted. He said, "If it's the only way to save you, yes, I'll honor my oath. This secret is far too dangerous."

  "I'll take that risk."

  "Not alone, for your own sake. You need my help!"

  "It's none of your concern what I do!"

  "Maybe I want it to be my concern! I want you to be my concern!" He cursed and released me entirely, mumbling something beneath his breath.

  To have been so near him and then so suddenly apart took the air from my lungs, a cruel suffocation. When I could, I whispered, "If you have something to say, then say it."

  At first he wouldn't look at me, or couldn't bear to. But slowly his eyes met mine, exposing a pain in him that I hadn't seen before. Or reflecting something he saw in me. With our eyes locked, his breaths came faster and deeper. So did mine.

  After what seemed like hours, he said, "You are ripping at my heart, Kes. Every time I reach out and you pull back. Every time you offer a smile to someone who's not me. When you doubt me, or mistrust me, or hide your secrets away, it's like a claw that shreds me from within. When we're together, I forget how to breathe, but when we're apart, I realize you've become my air. I want you to take a risk, but take it with me. Risk yourself with me."

  "Simon, you know who I--"

  "I do know, and I'm telling you that I don't care. If you can't cross this bridge between us, or you won't, then tell me now and let me tear you from my soul. But don't hold me in this awful middle place where I can't get closer and I can't get away from you."

  His words pierced me. I felt them more than I heard them, like a shiver up my spine, or a pounding in my chest. When he went silent, all I could think was that my next move would change everything.

  I touched a stray lock of his hair, folding it back into place, then slid a finger down the side of his face. My eyes met his again, communicating what I wanted. Immediately, his hands reached for me, wrapping a
round my back and pulling me to him, bringing his lips to mine. This wasn't the cautious, stale moment such as Basil had offered in his embrace. This first kiss with Simon was like a wave, compelled to reach land, each brush of his lips tumbling into the next, asking for more.

  His kiss ignited emotions in me I'd never known could exist. Thoughts emptied from my mind until all that remained was the feel of his lips, the press of his hands, and the beat of my heart, pulsing for him, aching for more of him.

  I held on to each second as if nothing so perfect could possibly continue, but then there was another kiss, another rise in the flood of my emotions, another surrender to him. With every touch, I belonged more to him, and him to me.

  Our growing passion communicated everything he wanted. A land free of Endrick's rule, a place of peace where nothing existed but him and me. And a future for the two of us, together. He wanted that, and he believed getting the Olden Blade into the right hands was the way to achieve it. As I came toward him for another kiss, I realized that was all I wanted too.

  It was ... until it wasn't. Until I remembered Darrow and what would be necessary to gain his freedom. Until I remembered that there would have to come a time when Simon went one way, and I went the other. Until this moment had to end, far sooner than I wanted.

  It took all my strength to force myself away from him, and when I did, he sat up as well, sensing that something was wrong.

  "Kes ..."

  I shook my head. "If it were only my life at stake, then I would take the risk, but I will not obligate you to the same. That's not fair."

  Simon took my hand in his. "Your life is in danger, more than ever before. If you'd tell me where--"

  "--where the Olden Blade is?" My tone sharpened. "Is that why you kissed me? To weaken my defenses?"

  "I kissed you because I'm falling so fast for you that I expect at any second to crash into a reality where you're not here. And you won't be, if you won't tell me where the dagger is. This secret could get you killed."

  "This secret is my only chance to live!"

  Silence collapsed the world between us. Our own Pit of Eternal Consequence where we might fall forever. I wanted to believe him, just as I wanted to believe in him, and that somewhere ahead was a tomorrow that belonged only to the two of us.