The Traitor Queen (The Traitor Spy Trilogy #3)(67)

“Gal. Tika. Right where you were supposed to be,” Savara said, smiling as she reached the slaves. She turned to Lorkin. “It is good to see you again, Lord Lorkin. We were worried we might have to break into the palace to get you. We haven’t had to do that in centuries.”

Placing a hand on his heart, he waited. She smiled sadly, then nodded.

“It is good to see you, too, your majesty” he told her. Still unsure of Traitor protocol when a monarch had died, he decided to err on the side of speaking plainly. “I was saddened to hear of Queen Zarala’s passing, but glad to hear of your election.”

She looked down. “She will be remembered.” Her lips pressed together, then she turned to the slaves. As she thanked them, Lorkin looked at Tyvara again and drank in the sight of her, resisting a wave of impatience. It feels like months since I last saw her.

The slaves mounted their horses again, one taking the reins of Lorkin’s horse, and set off toward the east. They disappeared around a dune, toward an orange sun that hinted at the coming daytime onslaught of heat.

“Now, we must travel as quickly as we can manage,” Savara said, turning back to the group and ushering him toward them with an outstretched arm. “Your mother awaits us in the mountains.”

He felt a twinge of apprehension and eagerness, but forgot both as Tyvara stepped forward to meet him. She was smiling broadly.

“I’m so relieved the king let you go. Savara said the king wouldn’t dare harm you, but that didn’t stop me worrying.” She took his hands. Stepping close, she kissed him quickly, but pulled away when he tried to draw her closer, her eyes flickering to the others and giving him a warning look that plainly said “not now”. He felt a petulant disappointment, but put it aside. She was here. That was enough for now.

“I’m not the only one who’s been let out,” he said.

She shrugged. “I have more important things to do than running the sewer. And I’m sure the punishment will resume once we’re done.”

As one the group turned and started in the direction they had come. Someone passed Lorkin a pack, murmuring that he’d find a water bottle inside. He shouldered it and looked across at Tyvara. She was frowning at him.

“What is it?”

She lowered her voice. “Was it bad, in the king’s prison?”

His stomach lurched at the question. Suddenly the lightness in his heart was gone, and weariness returned. He looked away.

“It wasn’t fun,” he replied, shrugging. Should I tell her about the slave girl? What will she think of me, for helping the girl die? Maybe if the girl hadn’t been a Traitor … no, I don’t think that would make much difference. Still, Tyvara must have had to make some difficult choices as a spy. He drew in a deep breath. “You must have been through worse, as a slave.”

She said nothing. He made himself look up at her. She met his gaze reluctantly, then her eyes dropped to the ground.

“Would that be a problem for you, if I had?” she asked.

It was an odd way to phrase her answer, but as her meaning came to him he felt both dismay and affection.

“No,” he said. “I’m … I know what … what pretending to be a slave would have involved. It’s not like you had a choice.”

“But I did have a choice – whether to be a spy or not.”

“For the good of your people. And to help others.” Whereas there was nothing noble about me helping the slave girl die. And yet he hadn’t chosen to be put in that situation.

“Enough talking,” Savara said, glancing back at Lorkin and Tyvara. “The Ichani were far away last time we checked, but they can be unpredictable. We should travel in silence.”

Tyvara frowned and bit her lip. As they strode onward, she glanced at him from time to time. On each occasion, he only caught sight of her expression briefly, since her back was to the rising sun. Clearly she wanted to say something to him. Frustrated by the necessity for silence, he concentrated until he could detect her presence. He imagined he could hear her thoughts like a buzz at the edge of his senses, not quite loud or clear enough to be audible.

Finally he could not stand it any more. He moved closer and grabbed her hand.

—What is it? What is bothering you?

She looked surprised, then smiled and squeezed his hand.

—You know where we’re going?

—To the mountains. To meet my mother. I’m assuming to discuss trade or an alliance.

—Yes.

She looked at him questioningly, and he heard, somehow, faint words that she perhaps hadn’t intended to send to him.

What will he do then?

He frowned. He’d been putting off asking himself the same question. What would he do once negotiations were over? Go back to Kyralia with his mother? Stay in Sachaka with Tyvara? The answer was even more important if the negotiations failed to bring about any kind of agreement between the Allied Lands and the Traitors.

The Guild would want him to come home. His mother would want him to come home. But that might mean he’d never see Tyvara again.

What does he want? came Tyvara’s badly hidden thought.

—I want to be with you, he told her.

She blinked in surprise and turned to stare at him. He sensed puzzlement, and a little embarrassment. Her grip loosened as if she was about to pull away. Then it tightened again,