Prelude
ASRIEN
Six months, I’d been in Eliness; six sunfucking months of going unnoticed, working hard and drinking just enough to dull the sting of it, and all for nothing. Six months without so much as winking at another man, let alone screwing one, and Lord Sun knows there were men enough to be tempting. My office stood in sight of the docks, which teemed with strapping, broad-shouldered roughs, hauling cargo or doing whatever sailors do in port that isn’t drinking or fucking, and there I sat, as celibate as an Attovari monk and twice as miserable. No men, nor any sociable vices that might lead to a lapse in judgement; I even drank alone, or on rare occasions with Yarrick, whom I wouldn’t have fucked in a fit but who was, at least, reasonable company.
Six virtuous, miserable months, and still the Shade came for me anyway.
I’d just left work on a grim and drizzling evening when he materialised from the fog and blocked my path, sudden enough that I shrieked.
“Asrien bo Erat,” he intoned. His voice was deep and mocking, and he omitted my title because he could, patrician features exuding superiority the way other men exude sweat. The rain turned the grey in his hair to silver, glinting in the low light. A hatefully handsome comeuppance.
“Lord Cato,” I grit out, embarrassed and angry and fearful. “What a surprise.”
“An unpleasant one, no doubt.” Smiling thinly, he gestured ahead. “We will speak in private.”
He set off for my lodgings unerringly and at speed, leaving me with my far shorter stride to struggle along in his wake. A less confident man would’ve kept his eye on me, worried I might flee; the Shade, however, had no such insecurities. Spymasters seldom do.
“As you know where I live,” I said acidly, “I wonder you didn’t wait for me there instead.”
“I had business elsewhere. Your office was on my way.”
He didn’t deny that he could’ve broken in, had he wanted to. There was no point.
The drizzle had soaked me through by the time we reached my dingy rooms. The landlady, normally stationed in the central parlour, was nowhere to be seen as I unlocked my door and entered. The Shade watched, perversely amused as I shrugged out of my wet coat—his own was sturdy black wool, elegantly cut and far better suited to the time of year than my flimsy former finery. I claimed the only chair with a child’s defiance, staring up at him with what little fire I could muster, but regretted it the instant he stepped forwards and loomed over me, his long features hard as iron.
“You speak Tithenai, do you not?”
I stared, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t, and after several infuriating seconds, I realised he wanted me to answer.
“I do,” I bit out. “You know I do. It’s half my sunfucking job.”
He twitched at the profanity, but otherwise remained impassive.
“Good,” he said. “You will require the use of it.”
A long pause followed.
“Yes?” I prompted eventually. “And?”
“In your … former circles,” said Cato, the euphemism dripping with distaste, “did you ever encounter Velasin vin Aaro?”
The vin said he was gentry, but the Shade’s apparent disdain for his title could’ve meant any number of things. I racked my brains and came up empty. “No. Or if I did, I never knew his name. Who is he? What’s this all about?”
Again I waited. Again he said nothing. The Shade’s pale lip curled in a grimace, and all at once I realised that, whatever he was here to say, it disgusted him—and that could mean only one thing.
“Oh, I see.” I leaned back in the chair, letting my legs sprawl open, grinning like I’d caught his eye at the kind of bar that wasn’t supposed to exist in Ralia. “This is litai business, isn’t it?”
Cato snarled, and I had half a second to bask in having unsettled him before he backhanded me for it. My head snapped to the right, and I laughed because I’d learned early that it was better to laugh at blows than cry from them. My ears rang as my top lip throbbed, and when I touched it, my fingertips came away bloody. I blinked through the resultant dizziness and stared at the hand he was flexing, open and shut, open and shut, like he wanted to wipe it clean but not where I could see him. As if admitting he found me repulsive would’ve meant showing weakness.
I snorted. As if I couldn’t tell anyway.
“Velasin vin Aaro,” said the Shade, continuing with pseudo-calm, “is the third son of Lord Varus vin Aaro, to whom His Majesty recently granted such lands and powers as formerly belonged to the traitor Lord Ennan vin Mica.”
Now there was a name I recognised, as would most anyone in Ralia. I nodded grudging comprehension, still thumbing my split lip, and Cato continued.
“At the encouragement of King Markus, Lord Varus arranged a marriage between Velasin and a Tithenai noblewoman out of Qi-Katai, to help mend the rift vin Mica’s banditry caused. But.” And here he stopped, a look on his face like he’d bitten into a particularly sour quince. “Owing to some … indecorous behaviour on Velasin’s part, the Tithenai envoy was made aware of his … unconventional preferences. And being Tithenai, their solution was to—offer him a groom, instead. Which offer he accepted, and which has now been formalised, without His Majesty’s consultation.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, a stupid grin spread across my face. My cut lip split wider and I didn’t care, the sting of it nothing compared to the Shade’s distaste.
“Oh, that’s priceless!” I cackled. “A diplomatic litai marriage, and your lot have to eat it!”
A triumphal sneer crossed Cato’s face, and too late I remembered why he was telling me this in the first place.
“We will not, as you say, be eating it for long.” He leaned in close, and I shrank back without meaning to. “Because you, Asrien, will end it.”
“Me?” I spluttered. “I’m no assassin—” But even as the words left my mouth, I knew that wasn’t what he meant.
“Would that death were an option,” the Shade said bitterly. “In this case, however, as Ralia’s official, traditional stance on such unions is widely known, and as better relations with Tithena are genuinely desired”—despite their perversity, he didn’t add, though his tone and scowl clearly implied it—“we have determined that even a seemingly accidental death would be laid at our feet, and however unpleasant the current situation is, we do not wish for a new diplomatic crisis. As such, we are taking a different route.” His expression sharpened to a terrible smile. “You, Asrien, will go to Tithena. You will insinuate yourself into the confidence of Lord Velasin vin Aaro by whatever means necessary, and you will seduce him away from his … from Tiern Caethari Aeduria. Or, should that prove the more difficult option, seduce the tiern away from him. As a Ralian will be seen to be acting shamefully in either case, we do not especially care which of them you cozen.”
He paused, his black eyes raking me with a coldly speculative look. “Although,” he murmured, “looking as you do, you could easily pass for a Palamite.” He smirked. “Or would it be more than passing? Your mother has always denied it, but—”
“I don’t speak Palamish,” I snapped, knowing my cheeks were flushed bright red and hating it even more than usual. Some Ralians might be light-haired or light-eyed or both, especially in the south, but even paired with plain brown eyes, my too-blond hair and too-pale skin spoke more of Palam or Attovar than Ralia, and nobody had ever let my mother or me forget it.
Least of all my father. Or, it seemed now, Lord Cato.
“A pity,” said the Shade, savouring my discomfort like a good brandy. Then he shrugged. “Regardless, all that matters is that the marriage of Velasin and Caethari ends—and is seen to end—because of their inclinations, and not our intervention.”
Feeling slightly hysterical, I asked, “And what if I end up married to one of them instead?”
“Don’t be disgusting,” Cato snapped. But then, after a moment, he muttered, “If that’s what it takes, however … it would still be embarrassing, but the diplomatic union would be ended, and we’d have no need to formally acknowledge whatever broke it. But—” And here he paused, disdainful gaze flicking over me once more. “—I highly doubt it will come to that. Your value, such as it is, lies wholly in your usefulness as an instrument to your betters; beyond that, you bring nothing to anyone.”
The worst thing was, he didn’t say it to twist the knife, but as a bored statement of fact. It hurt in a way that made me harden, baring my teeth at him.
“Once I’m in Tithena, what’s to stop me from doing as I please?”
“Two things,” said the Shade, with deadly softness. “One, your beloved mother is still in a position to be ruined by your antics, should they be made public, and two—” He reached into his coat and withdrew a wicked knife, fitting the point beneath my chin and lifting, so that my head tipped up. “—there would be no diplomatic consequences to killing you.”
The pressure on the knifepoint increased. I felt a sting, gulping as a thin trickle of blood ran down my bared throat. The Shade tracked its descent with idle curiosity, until it reached my collar and began to dampen the fabric there. Then he looked up again, holding my gaze for longer than was comfortable; long enough that my starved libido gave a jolt, like maybe he was about to lean across the blade and—
Sunfucking stars, I’d been in Eliness too long.
“You’d have to find me to kill me,” I said, attempting bravado. “One lone man who won’t return to Ralia—that’s a waste of the crown’s resources, surely.”
“You’re right,” said the Shade, and gently scraped the blade’s edge against my throat, as if in parody of giving me a shave, though all this achieved was smearing the trickle of blood around. His mouth smiled, but his eyes were cold as week-old embers. “You would be hard to find. Your mother, however—”
“Don’t,” I gasped, all bravery gone. “You can’t, she’s done nothing wrong, she’s loyal to King Markus—”
“Accidents do happen,” Lord Cato said softly, “and in any case, one might argue that producing a son like you is treason enough.”
My chest felt suddenly inverted, fleshless ribs behind my naked heart. I valued few things in this world—stars knew, I cared little enough for myself, most days—but my mother …
“What if I fail?” I asked, and it came out a whisper.
“That will depend entirely upon the manner of your failure. Should your native powers of seduction”—the words dripped with loathing—“prove insufficient, there is an alternative.” Lord Cato bared his teeth in what was almost, but not quite, a smile. “You see, there is one instance in which the death of Velasin vin Aaro would be deemed acceptable. As it stands, his former … entanglement, Killic vin Lato, pursued Velasin to Qi-Katai. On being rebuffed, he reacted violently, and Velasin killed him.” Ugly relish coloured his tone. “As such, if Velasin were to be killed in turn by another jilted lover … well. You could almost call it poetic. And who could blame the crown for that?”
Brusque in victory, the Shade withdrew the knife, wiped the tip on my stinging cheek and resheathed it discreetly.
“Should you behave yourself,” he went on, as mildly if we’d been discussing the weather over tea, “and provided you succeed in your mission in whatever capacity, you are free to remain in Tithena. We might even see our way to extending you a small stipend by way of recompense—though not, of course, if you engage in a public union with either Velasin or Caethari; or any other man, for that matter.” His lip curled. “And, of course, your debts here will be erased.”
“And my mother?”
“Your mother will come to no harm, provided you do as you’re told.”
I digested this, numbness spreading through me. There was no way out, and never had been. If Lord Cato had been some garden-variety blackmailer, I’d have feigned agreement, slipped out the second his back was turned and run home to get Mother on the next ship out of Ralia, and damned to the consequences. But I couldn’t outrun a Shade. Named for the spectral guardians of the underworld, they were the crown’s eyes and ears, spies and secret-stealers and hidden knives—and among their ranks, it was whispered, Lord Cato stood closer to the king than anyone but his own shadow.
Gulping, I asked, “How soon do I leave for Qi-Katai?”
“You don’t,” came the reply. “You’re headed for Qi-Xihan.”
I blinked at him, confused. “But you said—”
“Qi-Xihan is more swiftly reached from here,” said the Shade, “but even if it wasn’t, they’ll be headed there soon enough. Besides which, you’ll have more excuse to approach them in the capital, and your presence will seem … less coincidental, shall we say, if you arrive there first.”
“What of my work here?” I asked—desperately, as I hardly liked it at the best of times. “What will you say to—”
“Asrien,” said Lord Cato, and here he sounded almost amused. “I am a Shade in the king’s employ. Do trust that I know what I’m doing.”
I looked away and forced myself to swallow. “Yes, my lord.”
“Good boy,” he said, and smiled.
Copyright © 2023 by Foz Meadows
