“You were right. It’s late enough for me to be off duty, so no more questions, eh?”
She stared at him incredulously. Just like that? How convenient for him, and utterly frustrating for her. But he probably wouldn’t have answered her anyway, she realized. There was and had only ever been one interrogator in the room. He was mindful of that even if she wasn’t.
But he wasn’t done. “It’s still early enough for some amusement though.” He pushed his chair back, but only to give himself room to put his legs up on the table and cross them. He then patted his lap. “Come,” he said with a slow grin. “I’m sure you can think of something creative to convince me not to put you back in that cell tonight.”
Chapter Twenty
WITH NO WINDOWS ON the high walls and two locked doors, Leonard didn’t know the warehouse was abandoned until he picked the lock on the second door and entered at the back of the building. At least the cavernous building wasn’t completely empty. Crates, large and small, had been left behind, though only in the back half of the warehouse. All of them were empty, most even broken. Discarded debris littered the floor around them, making his traverse of the room silently a very slow process.
He’d found his target, the man who’d arranged for him to get rid of the royal heir eighteen years ago. The man had a face he’d never forget. Now he also knew the man’s name. Aldo. It had taken all day and several more hours into the night to find him. Leonard had actually expected it to take much longer. Luck? He didn’t believe in luck. Aldo was simply a man of habit who frequented the one place in the capital where he would hear the kind of news that interested him.
The old tavern where Leonard used to go to “hear” of jobs had burned to the ground, a miller’s shop now filling the lot. He’d canvassed the town, checking all the other taverns, spending enough time in each to determine if it was what he was looking for. The last one he’d entered was newer, right on the main street, and much more elegant than the others. A good cover to hide what could really be bought there—death. Even Leonard would have discounted the place if he hadn’t recognized an old competitor sitting at one of the tables.
The bartender was as new as the establishment, but likely doing the same job on the side as the old bartender at the old tavern, connecting men who paid for unusual services with those who supplied them. Leonard tried to confirm that by ordering a drink, then telling the man, “I’m looking for work.”
“What sort?”
Leonard didn’t answer. That used to be all he needed to do to have a few choices mentioned. But this middleman wasn’t familiar with Leonard’s voice or his manner of concealing his face under a heavy false beard and the hood of his coat. And considering the more prosperous class of customers who frequented this place, Leonard knew the bartender would need to be cautious.
“No jobs here, unless you want to serve drinks?” the bartender said with a chuckle.
“No.”
After a moment the bartender said, “Take a seat. Maybe someone will join you.”
Innuendos Leonard wasn’t familiar with. The man was too cautious. Or a middleman was no longer involved? Or maybe he just wasn’t in the right place?
He took his drink to the table closest to the bar, thinking he would have to spend the rest of the night waiting, watching, hoping for something other than the presence of an old competitor to confirm he wasn’t wasting his time. And then he had more than that when his target actually walked in and went straight to the bar.
The bartender knew him, even called him by name. “Aldo, what can I do for you today?”
“Just a quick drink. Anything I should know about?”
“Maybe.”
“Save it then. No time right now, but I’ll be back before you lock up for the night.”
That was Leonard’s cue to leave the tavern immediately. He barely had time to step into the recessed entryway of the shop next door before Aldo came outside and hurried down the street, then down a narrow side street. Leonard followed. He wanted privacy for his confrontation with Aldo, but it looked as if that would have to wait. The old warehouse Aldo entered would have been suitable and no one else appeared to be there, but Leonard was cautious enough not to approach the man yet. Aldo’s rush to get there implied that someone else would soon be showing up to meet him.
Not until Aldo lit a lantern in the open area at the front of the warehouse could Leonard actually see him. Until then, the old building had been too dark for him to locate Aldo other than by the sound of his footsteps. The lantern must already have been on the floor because Leonard hadn’t seen Aldo carrying it. This was looking more and more like a secret meeting place Aldo might regularly be using. Leonard might not need to confront him after all, if he learned something pertinent tonight.
He had time to squeeze between two crates fronting the open area where Aldo waited. It was a perfect spot, not close enough for the lantern light to reach him so he was in blackest shadow, but close enough to see and hear whatever transpired.
The first man to arrive was bundled up due to the cold and, unfortunately, didn’t shed any of his clothing as he joined Aldo. Hooded, as Leonard usually was, and standing with his back to the crates, the identity of the first man remained hidden. But his voice was distinctive enough, a bit gravelly and subtly confident, that Leonard knew he would recognize it again if he heard it.
“What are you doing here?” Aldo asked the man. “Your job is unrelated to the palace surveillance. I’m surprised you can tear yourself away from it, as luscious as that lady—”
“I have information to report tomorrow,” the first man cut in. “It will save you a trip to the stronghold if I bring Rainier’s report with me as well. He’s late?”
“No, you’re early. And you might as well take these with you, too, then.” Aldo snickered as he handed the newcomer a small sack. “The herbs the master requested.”
“They were requested three weeks ago. They only work in the very first stage. It may already be too late to use them now.”
“It’s not my fault that Eastern merchant only shows up in the capital every few months,” Aldo complained.
“It’s never your fault, is it, Aldo?”
“What are you implying, eh?”
Their attention was drawn by another man who came through the front door. A soldier? Leonard was surprised to see the man wearing the uniform of a palace guard.
“Now what are you doing here?” Aldo demanded. “It’s Rainier’s turn to report. Why are you here instead?”
“Rainier suspects he is being watched, so he didn’t want to risk coming here now. He was asked today, by the captain of the guard no less, if he had taken some jewelry from a coach he was ordered to search last week. Apparently the captain’s prisoner has accused Rainier of the theft.”
“Did he steal?” Aldo asked.
“Yes, but it can’t be proven. The word of a prisoner against a guard?” The soldier snorted.
The hooded man with the distinctive gravelly voice appeared upset by this news. “More incompetents who can’t simply do the job they’re paid for? Stealing can draw attention to you! Are you all idiots?”
“Eh, watch your mouth,” the soldier growled. “I’m not the one who was tempted to steal. But you’ll like hearing what Rainier had to say about it.”
“I doubt that. If he’s being watched, he’s now useless to us.”
The soldier was angry enough at the other man’s disdain to blurt out, “It was jewelry brought into the country last week by servants, and amongst the baubles was a baby bracelet inscribed ‘Princess Alana.’ Or perhaps you don’t want to hear any more?”
“A forgery,” Aldo scoffed. “Rastibon wouldn’t have kept it when he killed the princess eighteen years ago, he would have buried it with her. He was the best killer around in his day, which is why I hired him. He didn’t make mistakes or keep souvenirs of his jobs. There could be some other plot afoot that we don’t know about.”
The hooded man ignored Aldo
and said to the guard, “I think if you value your life, you should just spit it out.”
The soldier backed down immediately, continuing in a conciliatory tone, “Rainier denied the theft, of course, and has the jewels well hidden. He said the captain didn’t seem all that concerned over the jewelry, which made him suspect the captain didn’t believe his prisoner to begin with. But Rainier didn’t actually see her. I did. She’s a very beautiful young woman.”
“What has that to do with anything?” Aldo demanded impatiently. “The captain could have simply been humoring her to soften her up—if you know what I mean.”
“Actually, what you imply begs the question. How do you know she’s a prisoner?” the hooded man with the gravelly voice asked.
“She’s been detained all day in his quarters, which are connected to the prison block. And Becker isn’t a man to dally while he’s on duty.”
“In other words, you have no clue why he’s had her in his quarters all day, do you? You expect me to report assumptions when the master demands facts?”
Aldo had been pacing in agitation, but now swung back to demand, “Tell me more about the woman. How old is she?”
“Young.”
“Eighteen years young?”
“She could be that, yes.”
“The bastard!” Aldo exclaimed angrily. “He didn’t kill the princess! He waited until she was grown and he’s brought her back. Go tell the master,” he ordered the hooded man. “We shall see what he wants to do about this.”
“You make more assumptions than anyone,” the hooded man said in disgust. “He’s not the master, fool. He’s just another lackey like you.”
“You dare!” Aldo said in an outraged tone. “You answer to me!”
“Not anymore.”
Leonard grit his teeth as he watched his target slump to the floor. In a brief silence, the two remaining men stared at the corpse at their feet.
The soldier finally asked, “Why did you do that?”
“Because I was ordered to. He was old. He was stupid. He’s made one too many mistakes. Just by his manner, thinking himself too important, Aldo made his own enemies. He became a liability.”
“But what Aldo just said about that old job that . . . might not have been finished, you aren’t going to just ignore that, are you?”
“A wild guess on his part, and irrational, if that old assassin was as good as Aldo touted.”
“Is that what you really think?”
“I don’t discount any possibility just because one looks more obvious than another, something you and Rainier need to start doing if you don’t want to end up like Aldo. The young woman in question could have come to the palace merely to report her jewelry stolen, and as Aldo suggested, the captain could merely be humoring her until he’s off duty. Rainier could even be wrong about the inscription on that bracelet. Does he even know how to read?”
“I never asked. But as long as you’re covering all possibilities, the young woman could be the next queen.”
The hooded man laughed mirthlessly. “Quick learner. You might not be of Aldo’s ilk, after all.”
“What about him?” the guard nudged Aldo’s leg. “Shouldn’t we bury him?”
“Why bother? I never liked this old building as a meeting place anyway, it’s too big and has too many hiding places. Return to the palace. You will be notified tomorrow of a new meeting place—and what our employer has to say about all of this.”
Leonard didn’t move until he heard the front door click closed, then he rushed out the back door and came around the corner of the warehouse just in time to see the two men part ways at the end of the street. He needed to follow the hooded man now. He was going to have to get word to Alana tomorrow to warn her to be on guard, that cronies of the people who wanted her dead might now think she was still alive—because of that bracelet.
Leonard wished she hadn’t reported it stolen, but she must have needed to use it as proof for the captain of the guard. If she had taken him into her confidence, why wouldn’t he believe her? It was absurd to think he’d imprisoned her, but Leonard couldn’t completely discount that possibility, either, though he would find that out for certain tomorrow. But it was much more likely that the captain was just being cautious and thorough in his questioning, and rightly so. He preferred to think the captain had believed Alana and was protecting her by not letting her out of his sight.
Chapter Twenty-One
ALANA REALIZED THAT CHRISTOPH Becker was a chameleon, able to change his colors before her very eyes.
She didn’t exactly like the hard-nosed captain she’d spent most of the day with. He wasn’t at all open-minded as he’d claimed he would be. He could frustrate her to the point of screaming. But he’d given her a boon when he’d assured her that she had his protection, so she didn’t think he could frighten her again—she hoped. And as long as he kept to a civil tone, she could deal with him.
She didn’t like the seducer either. He destroyed her calm in other ways. She couldn’t even think when he showed up.
She’d liked the charming man she’d first met in the palace’s anteroom, though. Maybe a little too much. But he’d disappeared . . . and would probably never return.
But this one, the coarse mountain brute, she liked the least of all. He offended her, shocked her, thought nothing of treating her like a woman of loose morals instead of the lady she was. Sitting there with his feet on the table, suggesting she sit on his lap to entertain him, good God, he infuriated her!
She couldn’t keep the contempt out of her tone when she said, “I’ll allow that Lubinian aristocrats aren’t the gentlemen I’m accustomed to, but must you be so vulgar?”
“If you’re trying to insult me, wench, you’ll have to do better than that.”
“You’re a barbaric lout and I think you have sense enough to know it. You like behaving in this offensive manner! You don’t even try to rise above it.”
That just made him laugh. He even folded his hands behind his head. So relaxed, so unofficial, so darn handsome. She closed her eyes and counted to ten.
“Thinking about my bed?”
“No!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes.
“I’m disappointed.”
He didn’t sound it. He sounded as amused as he looked.
Stiffly she said, “I think I’ve entertained you enough for one day. If you will show me to a room?”
He took his legs off the table and sat forward. Suddenly he was all business again. “You already know where your room is.”
Nothing could have deflated her more. She was going back into a cell? She really was a prisoner. . . .
But then he surprised her by adding, “Boris will have made the room much more comfortable for you by now, including adding coverings to the door for privacy. Hopefully he found some drapes to hang instead of musty blankets.”
Comfortable but still alone back there, Alana thought. That stirred some panic inside her. Anyone could yank those coverings down and send a well-aimed dagger through the bars at her, and the captain wouldn’t know about it until the morning when they found her dead!
“There’s no normal room I can have instead?”
“I can be convinced to let you share my room. . . . No? Then I bid you good night.”
“What about in the palace? Surely there must—”
“You really are tired, aren’t you, to make that suggestion?” He frowned. “Do try to remember the seriousness of the charge made against you.”
She drew in her breath. “You’ve actually made a charge? That I’m an assassin?”
He snorted over her conclusion, clarifying, “That you’re an imposter.”
He could still say that after everything she’d told him today? “Why don’t you just shoot me and have done with it?” she almost snarled.
“I haven’t had your confession yet.”
She started laughing brittlely. Her frustration was getting to her. He was getting to her. Why the devil had he even let her out
of that cell if he still thought this?
“Why are you delaying, as tired as you are?” he asked. “I will not be accused of taking advantage of your exhaustion.”
“I have returned to the place where I was meant to die. You can’t leave me defenseless here. At least give me back one of my daggers for the night. I will return it to you in the morning.”
“I think you should say no more. You are no longer thinking clearly, or you’d know that isn’t going to happen, not for any reason.”
“But—”
“What you’re doing is making a very good case for me to keep you by my side tonight. You don’t have to come up with excuses for it, wench. The invitation is open.”
That didn’t deserve an answer. “What about this? You lock the outer doors—”
“They will be locked.”
“—but give me the key to the cell.”
He laughed. “You want to lock yourself in?”
“No, I want to lock you out,” she snapped.
While Christoph laughed harder, Alana couldn’t suppress a big yawn. Nothing could have pointed out more clearly that she was at the end of her reserves to deal with someone like Christoph Becker. He was indomitable. That might be a benefit to her father, but it wasn’t to her.
But she tamped down the panic that had made her argue with him. She didn’t really think she was in any danger yet when no one other than Becker knew she was here. And Boris, depending on how much he’d overheard. And possibly her father—that was if the captain had even informed the king about her. He’d had time to do that while he’d left her in that cell. . . .
Christoph snapped his fingers to get her attention on him again. How rude! She would have said so if he didn’t warn first, “If I stand up to escort you to your bed, you’re going to see just how much I’d rather drag you to mine. Boris!” he shouted, and the servant quickly came out of the kitchen and caught the ring of keys the captain tossed at him. Then Christoph warned Alana, “For the last time, go now, while I still let you. You will be safe back there, even from me.”