The Drowned Woods (43)

She rose from her seat and began to stride from the courtyard when the clang of metal armor froze her in place.

She knew that sound. She still cringed from it when the guards patrolled nearby streets. She had tried to steel herself against the memories, to turn them into a glorious tale of escape. And while she could lie to everyone else, she’d never managed that trick with herself.

Three soldiers stood in the courtyard’s entrance.

There was no mistaking the heraldry that decorated their breastplates. It was the same knot of lines that adorned her cheek.

Mer shrank back, glad for her hooded cloak. She could pretend to be just another woman taking refuge in a chapel garden. She stepped back, head bowed, but then she heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed.

And that was when she knew.

A courtyard with one entrance and high walls. Three armed soldiers. One escape route blocked by swords. This was no coincidence, no mere chance encounter.

I’ll see you after the job.

Mer had been the job.





“Let me see if I understand this,” said Renfrew. “You vanish for nearly a whole day. And you tell me that you spent that time running from guards, breaking the heir to the thieves’ guild out of prison, telling her our plan in its entirety, and then you return here with no key.”

Mer sat comfortably on a cushioned chair, her legs tucked up beneath herself. Trefor had come running as soon as they’d returned, first throwing himself at Fane’s legs and then greeting Mer with a few enthusiastic licks. He’d sprawled himself across her lap while she idly scratched at his ears. Renfrew stood at the center of the sitting room, his arms crossed, regarding Mer like a baker who’d brought him a burnt loaf of bread.

“That’s not all I did,” said Mer. “I also took a bath.”

Renfrew’s disapproval collapsed in on itself; he pressed a hand to his eyes, shoulders shaking with silent, rueful laughter. Mer’s mouth twitched, warmth suffusing her at the sight of Renfrew’s amusement. To the outside world, he was a polite and very dangerous man. But from a young age, she’d been able to make him laugh. Those rare moments had been the memories she clung to in times of hunger or fear—and it was nice to see she still had the touch.

“Well,” he said, recovering himself. “I’m glad you accomplished that, at least.” His face smoothed out. “Am I to presume this thief will be aiding us?”

“If anyone in the city can get us that key,” Mer replied, “it’s her. The guild used to keep a locksmith on retainer at all times when I worked with them.” She frowned. “I’m surprised you’re not angrier about this.”

Renfrew let out a sigh. “It was my fault. I was the one who picked the fence. He must have recognized you, decided that it would be more profitable to sell you to the prince.”

A chill ran through Mer. Her fingers stilled upon Trefor’s head for a moment; he looked up at her as if to say, Why did you stop? She continued petting him and the corgi let out a happy sigh.

“If that is true,” said Mer quietly, “then I shall have to remain indoors until we leave. If word has gotten out that I’ve returned—”

“The prince will scour the city,” agreed Renfrew. “Yes, you’re right, of course. When will your thief be contacting you?”

Mer considered. “Likely a day or two, at the most. I told her of the tides, when we’d have to leave.”

“Was there anything you did not tell her?” asked Renfrew, with mild exasperation.

“I did not tell her why you and I embarked on this mission,” she said. “She thinks we’re all in it for the coin.”

Renfrew nodded. “A wise choice. The guild, for all of its criminal endeavors, is still governed by a noble house. Were they to discover that I wished to destabilize the prince… I doubt even your friend would help us.”

Mer looked down at Trefor, at her fingers tangled in the dog’s clean fur. She watched the rise and fall of his back; he breathed deeply, contentment evident in his relaxed face. In times of strife, it was always the helpless who suffered more than anyone else. If they did succeed in destabilizing Prince Garanhir’s rule, she did not know what would happen. Perhaps he would try to consolidate his power by bringing his armies away from the borderlands. Or maybe Gwynedd would invade.

Mer saw the paths of the future and felt a swell of exhaustion.

“Are you having doubts?” asked Renfrew, breaking into her thoughts.

Mer shook her head. “No. Just considering the cost of things. How much do you trust the others?”

The edges of Renfrew’s mouth twitched. “I trust no one, my dear child.”

She snorted. “You trust me, for all that you still tell me little.” She adjusted her position on the chair, unfolding her legs so that she could rise at a moment’s notice. “It’s the reason I’m the only one of our crew you let wander the city without you.”

“I raised you,” he said. “And I did send Fane out, too.”

“Yes,” she replied. “But only because I could watch him.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“I trust that he will keep his word,” said Mer. “I’ve got a pretty good sense for lies. He hasn’t uttered one yet.”