Chapter Thirteen
Rose was beyond frustrated. She'd been tailing Malfore for the past two weeks and had yet to find a justification for offing him. Sure he was slimey for posing as the Shepherd, and he'd threatened the pope about the embezzlement and elixir - though ultimately nothing had come of that. But he never really did anything. He spoke about peace. He took donations to the church. He was a Shepherd without a purpose.
Rose had initially assumed he'd done it for the fame or power and whatever benefits came with it. But after every conversation where he was thanked for his hard work, when backs were turned and doors were closed, his pleased smile began to slip into something sad. And sometimes when the hour was late and he was sure he wasn't followed Malfore would squeeze into one of Pendrago's seedier pubs, where no one asked questions or gave you strange looks if you didn't want to put your hood down. He'd take a seat at the bar, his drink his only companion. Rose wondered why he didn't just drink at home. This was the kind of place someone could disappear and no one would bat an eye. But then again, maybe that's what he wanted.
"Why me?" Alisha asked for the umpteenth time, trying not to fidget as Angelie applied what was definitely more than enough eyeliner.
"I think you'll have more luck than I will," said Rose.
Alisha began to pull her lip between her teeth, but stopped short when she remembered the bright red lipstick she was wearing. "I really don't think I'll be very good at ferreting out his secrets."
"You will," Rose assured her. "Up close, he'll probably figure out who you are, then he'll see you as a kindred spirit - someone who is also important seeking refuge from their responsibilities."
"Won't he just be intimidated?"
Rose smirked. "I have a hard time seeing you intimidating someone."
"I could if I wanted to." Alisha pouted.
"Look, it'll be fine. Don't worry. I believe in you."
Coincidentally, Angelie had finished doing the princess' eye make up and stepped away. Alisha searched for the slightest hint of untruth in Rose's face - that she was just supplying empty reassurances. Not finding any, her mouth curved into a slight smile. Maybe she could really do this.
"Don't forget these." Angelie pressed a pair of glasses into Alisha's hand.
Alisha slid them on her face and checked her reflection in the mirror. A face she hardly recognized stared back at her. The thick, wide frames took up nearly a third of her face and her makeup subtly changed the shape of her mouth and her eyes - boldly applied in a way Alisha can't recall wearing since she'd snuck into her mother's room when she was a child. She looked just this short of ridiculous. She sighed with her whole body, shoulders slumping.
Angelie crossed her arms defensively, still holding the eyeliner pen in one hand. "It might be hard to believe but there are women your age who do themselves up like this here."
Another sigh. "It's not that I don't believe you, it's just..."
A giggle bubbled up from Rose's throat. "It's so completely not you."
That earned a wry smile from Alisha. "Exactly."
The bar was tucked into a dark side street near the district edge that likely hadn't seen love since the day it was paved. Rogue stones had wriggled their skyward from the cobble, threatening to trip any unwary passersby, and sections of it were sinking back into the earth. The gold light shining from the windows of the bar was a welcome sight in this dark place, an illusion of warmth and shelter from the rain. Voices carried softly through the thin walls. This illusion was dispelled the moment Alisha stepped through the door. It was loud, almost deafeningly so, a cacaphony of gruff voices and mugs scraping against wood. A sour note of unwashed bodies drifted to her nose, breaching the stench of alcohol.
Alisha lingered in the doorway, trying to muster up a confidence she didn't have. But then a hand pressed against the door she'd been holding, relieving her of its weight. There was no more stalling. She moved deeper as the man who opened the door pushed past her. The establishment was packed with bodies. Her eyes swept the room for the false Shepherd, over the faces of folks packed into crowded tables. She knew him by his cloak and spied him on a stool at the bar, and by some miracle the seat next to him was open.
Malfore had no reaction as Alisha slipped onto the stool beside him. He sat with his body hunched over his drink, his hands circled around the mug. His face - cast in shadows by his hood - was long and drawn, pulled towards his beverage as if it had sucked the soul straight out of him.
The princess cleared her throat loudly. He neither looked up nor so much as blinked. She nudged his elbow gently with hers. That finally got his head to turn her way.
"Fancy seeing you here."
Malfore's brows furrowed as he stared into her face with an intensity that sent a shiver down Alisha's spine. Carefully, she lowered her glasses down the bridge of her nose. His eyes widened a fraction.
"Your High-I mean, um. I never would have expected to see you in a place like this."
She pushed her glasses back up and repeated the line she'd rehearsed with Rose. "I could say the same for you, but it's nice to get away from it all sometimes, you know? Come to someplace like this and pretend for a couple of hours that you're someone else - pretend you're someone not important - someone not responsible for the fate of their entire country."
Malfore made a breathy sound that was almost a laugh. Almost. "Yeah, I know that feeling."
"I can't imagine being the Shepherd is easy."
He took a respectable swig, buying time for thought by swirling it around a little before letting it escape down his throat. Alisha took that moment to glance around. Everyone else seemed lost in their own conversations. The bartender was occupied at the other end of the bar. Rose and Angelie caught her eye from a table in a shadowed corner. They both gave her reassuring nods. Alisha flicked her gaze back to the wall in front of her that was decorated with shelves of liquor.
"It's not," Malfore finally agreed.
"That's quite a load of malevolence for a 'Shepherd' to have," Edna drawled. "Try harder."
"At least he's not a hellion yet," said Mikleo without feeling.
Alisha held her tongue as the bartender drifted over and waited until the he made his way back to the other end of the bar. Her eyes flicked to the faces around them again. On the surface at least, no one appeared to be listening to them, save her companions. Not entirely sure of how safe it was, but feeling her courage waver with each passing second, Alisha finally said what she'd been waiting to say since she'd walked through the door. She folded her hands atop the bar.
"I know you're not the real Shepherd," she said as gently as possible, unable to look anywhere but where her hands overlapped. She heard him swallow, even above the din of voices.
"That's absurd!" Malfore blurted out. A couple of heads turned. He cleared his throat and waited until their attention drifted away to continue. "Of course I am."
Alisha tore her gaze away from her hands and forced herself to meet his eyes. She saw none of the outrage she had expected. There was only fear. "You're not. I know the real Shepherd. I know both of them."
Malfore laugh was shrill and filled with barely supressed panic. He was normally more composed, normally better at playing this game. But it seemed his drink had made him a bad liar. His face was slick with sweat – a cocktail of nerves and alcohol. "Then that makes me the third Shepherd you know."
"You cannot even see seraphim." Alisha's voice was delicate, firmly reigning her judgements in check. If she spooked him, they'd never get their answer and his fate would be sealed. The weight of his life rested on her shoulders and he did not know it – could not know it. Of course she disapproved of what he had done. She just wasn't sure he deserved death for it, though Narcy wasn't actually judging him for his crimes.
Malfore's mouth flapped much like a fish's out of water.
"You were about to say something like 'seraphim aren't real' or 'no one can see them,' weren't you?" said Alisha. This time she could see his throat bob as he swallowed. She pressed on. "Please. I just need to know why."
He turned away from her to the wall of bottles stacked behind the bar. He threw his head back as he pitched the last of his drink down his throat. The glass came down on the wood with a clunk Alisha felt vibrate through to her arms which still rested on the bartop.
"It was an accident," he finally said. "Truthfully, I never really believed in any of that seraph stuff – and before you say anything, I know that sounds strange. I was an orphan, or as good as one, given to the church when I had nowhere else to go. Women aren't generally approving of their husband's bastard children. So when I grew up, well, I didn't want to leave home."
" 'An accident'?" Alisha repeated, unable to stop her eyebrows from ascending.
"Ah, well," Malfore fumbled. He found his courage in another swig of his drink. "Even though that first skirmish in the Glaivend Basin ended before it became a total blood bath, there were still casualties. Still kids… orphaned by it. They came to the church, with nowhere else to go and..." He licked his lips. "They asked me all kinds of questions. The younger ones, they asked me – they asked me what happened to their parents. Where they had gone. I just told them that their parents had fought to protect them and they weren't truly gone. They had been reborn as seraphim and were watching over them still.
"I didn't believe a word of it – I still don't. But it seemed like what they needed to hear. One of them, a small boy, asked me how I knew that. I didn't know what to say. I told him I could hear their voices. So they thought I was the Shepherd, and I couldn't stand to correct them when they were resting all that hope on my shoulders. Some other members of the church naturally found out and decided it could be used to increase… um, support. And it's a lie I've been telling ever since."
The air around him is still, not so much as a flicker in his malevolence. "Don't you feel the least bit guilty?" Alisha blurted before she could stop herself.
Malfore didn't even have to stop to think before shaking his head. "No. If it gives people hope and puts me in a position to help stop a war, then it was worth it."
Alisha opened her mouth to say something but never got the chance. Rose had strode over. She brought a heavy hand down on Malfore's shoulder, causing him to jump in his seat.
"Your life is in danger," she said, her face inscrutable behind her mask. Alisha wondered when she had put it on. "Come with me."
The false Shepherd jaw may as well have knocked against the bartop. He whipped his head to Alisha for assistance.
Despite Alisha's misgiving's about this man's character, Rose's words undammed a warm flood of relief in Alisha's chest. A soft smile eased itself onto her lips. "It's all right," she told him. "You can trust her."
Malfore swallowed visibly and licked his lips. When Rose gave a him a small push, he didn't resist. Alisha tossed what she hoped was enough gald to cover his tab onto the bar and followed them out. When she stepped out into the street after them, Malfore was readjusting his hood. She followed his example.
In the earliest hour of the morning, the only light to see by was the pale golden glow spilling out of the pub's windows. The street lamps were already beginning to to fizzle out. The stars remained hidden behind a curtain of rain clouds.
"Where are we going?" Malfore asked as they followed Rose down the street, slipping deeper into the depraved and forgotten parts of the city.
"We're getting you out of the city," Rose replied.
Alisha nearly walked into Malfore as he suddenly stopped, a foot coming down hard with a splash in a puddle.
"I can't just leave," he protested a little to loudly. He swayed a bit from side to side, the alcohol still heavy in his stomach, thick in his speech.
"First of all, keep your voice down." This time the thin line of Rose's mouth was more than enough to convey what was hidden behind her mask. "Do you have a better plan?"
"I can't just leave," he repeated, a little more softly and a little less sure.
"You already said that. Look, you can't stay here. As long as you're in town, they will hunt you. But if you just disappear, that might be good enough," Rose reasoned. "It's not you they want, it's what you stand for."
"You seem to know a lot about what they want."
"I get around."
"You certainly do," said a woman's voice.
Every muscle in Alisha's body turned to ice. Leaning against a rapidly decaying townhouse was a woman dressed in black. She pushed herself off the wall and sauntered out of the immediate shadow of the building. Even in the near absence of light, the silhouette of the three petals of her mask were unmistakeable. For an agonizing second the only sounds in Alisha's world were the rain and the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears.
"Narcy." The rebel leader's name was a hoarse whisper on Alisha's tongue.
"Indeed. Are you surprised?"
Rose shrugged. "Not really. I was just being optimistic."
Narcy's shoulders and chest shook in what appeared to be a silent chuckle. "Clearly. You took a rather liberal interpretation when I told you I wanted him to disappear."
Rose did everything in her power to hide how hard she wanted to kick herself right then. "You didn't specify how."
"I didn't think I had to. But then again, I always suspected your heart wasn't really in this. I guess I was just being optimistic as well."
"I-I don't want to die," Malfore stammered, his feet moving backwards.
"I'm afraid that's not really up to you," Narcy said, her voice as cold as the chill Alisha felt in her bones.
He pivoted hard on his heel. He slipped. The street was slick with rain and his limbs unsteady from drink. He fell in a heap. Narcy made no move on him.
"You're not going to attack?" Alisha asked, halfway into a fighting stance with one hand reaching toward the dagger at her hip.
Narcy's head whipped in her direction, almost like she hadn't noticed Alisha standing right next to Rose. "On second thought, perhaps choosing to abandon the people will do more to serve us than if he died a martyr."
The grin that creeped across the exposed lower half of Narcy's face was downright predatory. It slithered in a fresh trail of ice down Alisha's spine.
Rose's daggers were halfdrawn, her trust as thick as the tip of their blades.. "That's not the answer I was expecting coming from you."
Narcy's chuckle was soft, yet laced with malicious amusement. "I am many things you don't expect."
"Won't your boss be angry?" Rose chanced. She wasn't 100% sure, but after Lily's slip up she couldn't help but be fairly confident there was another face behind that mask.
Another chuckle. Then a pause before strolling towards them, her boots loudly catching in the mud. "Cypress doesn't have to know." She gave Rose a hard pat on her bicep as she breezed by. "It'll be our little secret."
Neither Rose nor Alisha relaxed their stances until several minutes after she had gone. They stared after her still until Malfore interrupted them.
"A-am I going to die?"
"Not yet anyway," Rose replied without a hint of tact. "Let's go. We're almost out of the city."
They stopped at an old farm on the outskirts which Alisha recognized as the one they had dropped off fertilizer, of all things, that night she'd donned the Scattered Bones mask.
"Why here?" she asked as she followed Rose throught a pasture into a loafing shed.
Rose wedged the toe of her boot beneath the edge of a rotting floorboard and kicked it out of the way. The horse who'd been standing nearby taking shelter from the rain startled awake with a heavy gasp of air through its nostrils. It skittered backwards awkwardly, its limbs still heavy with sleep. Its hooves clunked loudly against the wooden floor until it'd backed itself against the far corner.
"Um -" Malfore started, which was as good as a question.
"No one's going to notice over the rain," Rose answered before he could finish asking. She squatted over the opening she'd created. A shallow hole had been dug into the earth and in it was a moderately sized canvas rucksack. Rainwater unable to sink into the saturated earth sluiced around the bag. She yanked it out – its bottom coated with glistening mud – and thrust it into Malfore's chest. "This has food and some money in it. Thing's supposed to be waterproof so it should still be dry."
Malfore swallowed. His hands slowly lifted to take the burden from Rose. "No clothes?"
"Would have needed a bigger bag for that."
He licked his lips. "Right of course." He just stood there, his gaze on the bag, as if the mud had snaked up through the cracks in the boards and sucked his feet in 7 inches deep. His eyes were still glossy with inebriation, or perhaps it was shock at the appearance of Narcy.
"Well, off you go then," Rose urged.
"Ah, right."
When he was out of earshot, Alisha turned to Rose. "How long had you been keeping that there?"
Rose shrugged. "Just since last night."
…
The very next morning, Alisha was greeted by two lances crossed in her path when she tried to leave her room. Across the valley created by the two weapons, Angelie stared back at her surprised face with carefully trained neutrality. Behind her, wielding his considerable height like a weapon, the emperor himself met her eyes. His gaze turned the blood in Alisha's veins to ice, the claws of panic seizing her heart and seemingly commanding time to a halt.
"May I come in," Drakon said coolly. It wasn't a request, it was mere a formality.
Alisha swallowed around the lump in her throat and took a step back. "Of course."
The guards outside her door unbarred the entrance and the emperor breezed through with Angelie on his heels. The two guards from the hall also joined them, retaking their positions this time on the inside of the room.
"To what do I owe this visit?" Alisha wrestled her nerves to keep the shaking out of her voice as she offered a stiff bow.
"I received some disturbing news this morning." Drakon walked over to her window, his hands clasped behind his back.
"What happened?"
"I received a report from our investigation team in Ladylake." The room grew colder with each word. "They haven't quite cracked who is at the top of pyramid yet, but they're certain it was someone of authority. Likely someone with a seat on your council."
"Did you come to ask me if I knew who it was?"
Drakon turned his body just enough to meet her gaze over his shoulder. "Do you?"
Alisha shook her head resolutely. "No."
Drakon shrugged, now turning fully to face her. "I actually came here because of the other bit of news I received this morning. The Shepherd, Malfore, was found strung up in the amphitheatre like a marionette with his heart ripped from his chest. Just like the knight who was murdered a couple weeks ago."
"No," Alisha gasped. Her knees threatened to buckle and she reached a hand out to the wall to steady herself. "That can't be right." Narcy had said she'd spare him – that she didn't care as long as he disappeared. Had she gone ahead and killed him anyway? Rather belatedly, Alisha realized she was trembling and Drakon was staring at her like he expected to hear a confession.
"You were the last person seen with him."
"I was?" The princess' mouth was dry, making speech difficult. Her voice was painfully shrill to her own ears. "When?"
"Last night. Before he died," Drakon replied without inflection.
A million and one thoughts scrambled through Alisha's mind, fighting for purchase, barely getting a foothold before a new one crashed into it. I was in disguise. Who recognized me? Was it in the pub? Had the terrorists been following Rose – following me this whole time? How could we have failed to notice? "We just had a chat," she finally said, her hand sliding off the wall as she straightened herself. Her eyes flicked to Angelie, searching for some admission of betrayal in the other woman's impassive expression. "Angelie was there too." To her immense relief, Angelie nodded.
"You never reported this to me." The accusation in Drakon's tone lifted it a note higher.
"We came back very late, Your Majesty. You were asleep. I had meant to tell you in the morning, but it seems I was beaten to it," Angelie explained calmly.
Alisha tentatively crossed Angelie off the list, wanting to believe she had not betrayed them. Her mind raced through the other possibilities, only tethered to the present conversation by a thin thread – everyone's voices sounded distant. Who else could have passed the tip she'd been with Malfore to Drakon himself? Surely not Sergei. But it would have had to be someone Drakon trusted enough to act on their word alone.
"What did you talk about, Princess Alisha?"
The use of her name reeled her in a little closer. "Oh. We just… commiserated over how demanding our jobs can be. I didn't-" Then, unable to help herself she added, "You don't believe I did it, do you?"
Drakon shook his head sadly, his gaze falling to the corner. "I don't know what to believe. But until I do, you won't be enjoying the same freedoms you've been privileged. Angelie will now be staying with you twenty-four-seven. Any time you leave this room – which I assure you will be a rare occurrence – you will be escorted by a number of guards, and you most certainly will not be leaving the palace."
"Are you-?" Alisha worked her jaw around her disbelief. "Are you placing me under house arrest?"
"Yes, I am. Starting this very instant. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to sort out right now – as you can image." Drakon squared his shoulders and marched back into the hall. "Good day."
"Good day, Your Majesty." Alisha bowed deeply to his back, deeper than usual hoping hide the heat in behind her eyes that threatened to turn to tears.
"He said he wanted to see your reaction in person," Angelie said by way of explanation once Drakon was gone.
The two hall guards left and returned to their post just outside the guest chamber door. As the latch clicked into place, Alisha's legs gave and she crumpled to the floor. Angelie rushed over to her, looking alarmed.
"Is this it…?" Alisha was saying, more to herself than anyone else, as she stared into nothingness. She lifted a hand to her head, her fingers curling desperately into her scalp. "Does he really believe I did it? I've been reduced to a hostage. If… If I don't do something, he's going to declare war."
Angelie knelt beside her and placed what she hoped was a reassuring hand on the princess' back. "His Majesty isn't unreasonable. He's just taking precautions."
"But you were there." Alisha turned to her with wide, frenzied eyes. "How can he believe I did it if you were there?"
Angelie helped Alisha stand and guided her to the bed, a sigh chasing her words. "I don't know that he does but from what I understand, his court has been suspicious since Derek's murder. This may be more to appease them than it is to punish you."
…
"This aura isn't Narcy's," Lailah stated, her voice barely a whisper above the rain's onslaught. "I think this malevolence is from someone else."
"Doesn't mean she didn't do it." Rose sniffed.
That sun was barely above the horizon, hidden behind the persistent rainclouds. The news had reached the inn early that morning and the alarm was too loud to sleep through, so here she was. The crime scene was picketed off with posts and tape. A small awning had been erected above where the body had been found on the stage. The body itself had been long transferred to the morgue, but thin splotches of stubborn blood clung to the spot it had dried on, diluted by the rain. At the foot of where chalk outlining where the body was found, rested a single flower. The flower was a small tube where it sprouted from the stem, and then it opened into what looked to Rose like a single petal with pointed edges spiking in different directions. It was a red as vibrant as fresh blood.
"What do you think the flower is? Some kind of signature?" Mikleo turned to Rose.
"Maybe. Rumor says it was the same wound Derek had, but Derek's murder didn't include a flower," she replied, her mind fantasizing about various scenarios in which she wrung answers out of Narcy. In reality, getting the answers she wanted without blowing her cover was going to be a lot more difficult than a raised fist and some choice words.