Deadly Games

CHAPTER 19

Amaranthe straightened the crimson,braided-hide band across Basilard’s chest. Following in theTurgonian style, he wore it diagonally across a crisp white shirtwith silver piping. According to imperial lore, the band wassymbolic of the across-the-back sword scabbards the originalconquerors had worn, a throwback to the days when the size of aman’s sword had indicated…well, no man had dared carry one anyless than five feet long.

How do I look? he asked when shestepped back.

“Maldynado picked out your clothes anddressed you,” Amaranthe said. “How do you think you look?”

Fabulous?

“Correct. How’s your shoulder?” They hadtaken him to a surgeon to remove the pistol ball, and Akstyr hadapplied his healing fingers, but she was still surprised he hadbeen able to compete in the final Clank Race. Compete and win. He’dsaid he had realized his purpose-or perhaps remembered it-down inthat laboratory and had been motivated to kill himself, if that’swhat it took, to earn dinner with the emperor.

Basilard rotated his shoulder. Goodenough. How is your knee?

Amaranthe grimaced. “Also, good enough.Unfortunately. I was hoping for more of a vacation from ourtraining regimen.” She glanced toward the doorway of the rail car,though she doubted Sicarius was anywhere nearby. He had been scarcethe last three days, and she wondered if there was something he hadnot told her about the events below.

Sicarius does not know what a vacationis.

“I’ve noticed.” She could use one though.Earlier that day, she had talked to Keisha about Fasha’s death, andthe weight of that failure, along with so many others, hung heavilyabout Amaranthe’s shoulders.

When I get to talk to the emperor,Basilard signed, what should I say about the team?

Everything, Amaranthe wanted to blurt.Basilard should tell Sespian how much they’d done for the empire,that they were responsible for stopping his assassins, for fixingthe water supply when it was poisoned, and for saving the athletes.And he should let the emperor know Sicarius wasn’t the demon heonce knew.

Amaranthe exhaled slowly. “Don’t say anythingabout us. That’ll get you thrown in the dungeon. You didn’t enterthe Imperial Games using the name you go by now, so, with luck, hewon’t know you’re part of a team of criminals. Wrongfully accusedcriminals, but criminals nonetheless. Just talk to him about what’simportant to you.”

Basilard held her gaze for a long moment,then nodded. I understand.

Amaranthe waved to Books, who was sighingdramatically and repeatedly as Maldynado fiddled with his clothes.Since he no longer had a bounty on his head, Books would go withBasilard to act as a translator. Sending two members of her team tosee the emperor was risky, but this was Basilard’s dream. Besides,they were the quietest and least notorious of her crew.

What if we get thrown in the dungeon?Basilard asked, as if he had been reading her thoughts.

“We’ll rescue you, of course.” She patted himon his good shoulder and debated a moment before voicing her nextthought. “I’m glad you chose…to set aside the past to try toimprove the future.”

He stared at her. You know? That I meantto kill…

He did not finish. He didn’t need to.Amaranthe knew.

“You’d been glowering suspiciously in hisdirection for months,” she said quietly, so the others would nothear, “and then suddenly you were avoiding looking his way at all.And spending an inordinate amount of time with Akstyr.”

Oh.

“You don’t have to forgive people for theirpast crimes, but if you believe they can do future goods, perhapsit’s worth helping them along that path.”

Perhaps. It’s hard for one man to makethose kinds of choices. Normally a priestess would advise….Basilard grimaced. It doesn’t matter. No priestess will adviseme any more. Even if I avenged our people, it wouldn’t make adifference. Not for me. I have no chance at redemption.

Amaranthe blew out a slow breath. What couldshe say to that? “I’ve noticed…every culture has a differentnotion of what the afterlife entails, which makes me think nobody’sall that certain. Maybe your best bet is to find fulfillment here,in this life.”

Basilard raised a single eyebrow. Youthink I can find fulfillment with Sicarius?

Amaranthe smirked. “Perhaps not himspecifically, but if you can get him on your side, he’s prettyuseful for helping achieve goals.”

Basilard stroked his chin, and she left himlike that. Considering her words, she hoped, and not dismissingthem as the ravings of a Turgonian heathen.

Amaranthe headed for the doorway, butMaldynado stopped her with, “Don’t go far, boss. We’ve got to getyou into your outfit and do something with your hair.”

“My outfit?” She cringed and wished she hadnot mentioned that she was meeting Deret that evening. She onlyintended to tell him her team’s side of the story, but Maldynadobelieved that, because this discussion was taking place in theImperial Gardens and involved a picnic basket, it should be treatedas a tryst.

“I picked out something tasteful for you,”Maldynado said.

“Tasteful?” Books said. “You? That’sdoubtful.”

“You doubt my fashion sense?”Maldynado asked. “You who, most days, wear the same rumpled clothesas you slept in? And who…”

Amaranthe left them to bicker. Maybe shecould sneak out of camp before Maldynado finished with Basilard andBooks.

When she hopped out of the rail car, sheturned and almost stepped on Sicarius’s toes. He stood by the door,his back to the rusty metal siding.

“Something you wish to discuss?” Amaranthecould not imagine him eavesdropping on a conversation aboutclothing.

“We should move the camp tonight. If Basilardis recognized and interrogated, he could lead the imperial guardright to us.”

Always the positive-thinking pragmatist.

“We have been here for a while,”Amaranthe said. “We can move tomorrow.”

“Tonight would be better.”

“I don’t believe Basilard would give us up,even if he were taken prisoner. Besides, tonight everyone’sbusy.”

“Busy,” Sicarius said.

“Sorry, but after the last week, I think afew days of relaxing and recuperating are in order. You’re welcometo do so, too.”

“Relax.”

“Yes, it’s something most humans need to do.It involves getting one’s mind off one’s troubles, putting awayone’s extensive knife collection, and not stalking about in ahyper-alert state all the time.”

“Sounds like a way to get killed,” Sicariussaid.

Amaranthe pointed toward the rail cardoorway. “Maldynado and Akstyr do it at brothels all the time, andnobody’s bothered to stick daggers in their backs yet.” Sherealized how that might be construed and winced. “Not that you needto visit brothels to relax. I mean, unless that’s what you prefer,because it’s not my business if you do, but you could, uhm, take anice moonlit stroll on the beach.” Oh, sure, like any man wouldchoose that option. “Or play Tiles or gamble a bit, or, uh…” Dearancestors, she could not imagine what he might do for fun orrelaxation. Practice throwing knives? “Well, you should dosomething you’d like to do tonight, as the rest of us are, andwe’ll worry about moving in the morning.”

Sicarius, as usual, regarded her with theblandness of a particularly featureless rock, then walked away.

The dress Maldynado had chosen wasn’tentirely appalling. The V-neck and sleeveless nature left more skinshowing than Amaranthe was wont to do, but it was summer.Though the sun floated low over the horizon, it still beat againsther shoulders, and the faint breeze felt good whispering across herbare arms. She enjoyed the rustle of the silk swishing about herlegs, too. She never could have afforded such a garment on herenforcer salary. No doubt Maldynado had wheedled it from somebusinesswoman for free.

For once, she wore her hair down, though abraid on either side of her temples pulled the locks away from hereyes. Pleasant evening at the Imperial Gardens or not, one had tobe prepared should one need to defend oneself. She could kick offthe sandals if she needed to run away-or drive a heel intosomeone’s crabapples.

Amaranthe chuckled sadly at herself. “Turndown the boiler, girl. Relax.”

As she crunched along the park’s main gravelpathway, she vowed to enjoy the summer evening. She inhaled thefloral scents that wafted from flower baskets hanging fromlampposts alongside the path. She passed a group of teenage boyscompeting at draftball in a sandy arena while younger childrenplayed hide-and-seek amongst the tall, dense shrubs of theEmperor’s Maze.

Deret had suggested they meet at LookoutVista at the center of the park, but she spotted him beforereaching the base of the hill. He leaned against the waist-high lipof a fountain. Above him, Vlem the Valiant held a sword aloft, anda curtain of water streamed from the granite blade. Amaranthesmirked, thinking of Maldynado’s concern about a statue being madeof him swimming up a squid’s hind-end. That wouldn’t likely makecenter stage in an imperial park.

“Good evening, Ms. Lokdon.” Despite havingthe sword stick in one hand, and a bulging canvas tote in theother, Deret performed a graceful bow. He wore a sleeveless tunicthat accentuated muscular arms, which he managed to display nicelyduring the greeting. “You are looking lovely this evening.”

The suave greeting was somewhat diminishedwhen the head-sized draftball from the boys’ game sailed into thefountain, sending a splash of water into Deret’s face. He steppedaway and awkwardly rearranged his belongings so he could wipe hisspectacles with his shirt. A nervous boy trotted up to retrieve theball amongst numerous utterances of, “Sorry, my lord.”

“Good evening, Lord Mancrest,” Amaranthe saidto rescue the boy from any backlash, though Deret did no more thangive the lad a faintly peeved glance.

“Please, call me Deret. Now that you’ve hadme at your mercy a couple of times, I feel you’ve earned the rightto call me by my first name.” He winced. “That sounded arrogant,didn’t it?”

“Yes, but I’m used to that from warrior-castetypes. I’ve been working with Maldynado for several monthsnow.”

“He’s…not exactly someone to whom I’d wishto be compared.”

“Because he’s disowned?”

“Because he’s Maldynado.”

“Ah.” Good answer.

“May I call you Amaranthe?” Deret looped thetote over his opposite wrist, eliciting a clinking of glasswarewithin. He gripped his sword stick with the same hand and offeredAmaranthe his free arm.

“Yes, though you’ve been particularlytroublesome, and I’m not sure you’ve fully earned the rightyet.” She smiled to let him know she was joking and accepted hisarm. Sadly, she could not remember the last time a man had offeredher his arm. Though she appreciated the gesture, a twinge of guiltran through her, as if she were betraying Sicarius. But this wasjust a dinner related to work. A chance to further their cause.Besides, it was not as if Sicarius had given her reason to hopeanything might happen between them.

“You’re most kind.” Deret guided her towardthe path leading up the hill to Lookout Vista. “I’m glad you came.I wasn’t certain you would after you read the article in TheGazette. I’m sorry it said so little about you and so muchabout the bravery of those on the Saberfist. I could onlyreport what I witnessed with my eyes. I know you and your team weredown there and may have been the ones responsible for destroyingthat strange ship, and the kraken as well, but…”

“It’s fine,” Amaranthe said. “You mentionedus, and you didn’t imply we were behind everything.” It was nothingshort of their most visible triumph yet.

“Still,” Deret said, “I’d like to hear yourstory and about everything that happened. Maybe we could do aninterview for the paper.”

“I’d be happy to tell you about it, butperhaps it’d be better for us-and your health-if you didn’t comeout too openly in favor of my team.”

“My health?” He frowned.

“You’ve heard of a group called Forge?”

Deret’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“We’ve irked them a couple of times, and itsounds like they had an interest in this venue, too.” They hadreached the crown of the hill, offering a view of the lake beyondthe trees and warehouses, and she nodded toward the sunset-streakedwater to indicate the laboratory vessel. It had sunken back to thebottom as soon as the athletes were pulled out. She had thought theSaberfist might want to salvage it, but the marines hadseemed happy to have it disappear. It would be hard to continuedenying the existence of magic with a ship full of evidence to thecontrary. She wondered what Sespian thought of the whole event.

“I’m not one to run from a threat.” Deretthumped his sword stick into the gravel path and grimaced at it.“Or hobble from a threat either.”

“But if you have a facade of neutrality, oreven come out in favor of business in the capital, then you won’tlikely be targeted, and you’ll have an easier time gettinginformation from various enemy sources. Perhaps you could evenshare some of that information.” She gave him her best winsomesmile.

“Ah, so you want your own personal spy atThe Gazette?”

“Are you offering to work for me?” Her smilebroadened.

“Er, no. I mean…” He poked at the gravelwith his sword stick. “You’re good, you know that, right? Since theday I met you, it’s been hard for me to think of you as an enemy tothe empire.”

“That’s because I’m not an enemy tothe empire.”

They reached the top of the hill where stonebenches waited for those wishing to watch the sunset. A meditationpit and a pair of wrestling rings occupied the area too.

“No, it’s because you don’t seem like… Youknow those sexy, dangerous women who you can tell just want tomanipulate you to their own ends? You don’t seem like that atall.”

Amaranthe raised an eyebrow at him.

Deret stopped. “What?”

“You said I wasn’t sexy. I hope you weren’texpecting a kiss tonight.”

“Oh! I didn’t mean, uhm…” His bronze skintook on a suffused hue that matched the crimson warblooms in theplanters framing the benches. “I just meant you seem nice. Andwholesome.”

“Wholesome?” This time both of hereyebrows flew up. “That’s what my father used to say aboutbroccoli.”

“Wholesome isn’t bad,” Deret said. “Ilike wholesome.”

“Hm.”

He set the tote on a bench, withdrew ablanket, and spread it on the sand of the meditation pit. Deret wasavoiding her eyes, and his cheeks were redder than ever. He removeda bottle of apple wine, glasses, a covered dish, and slices offlatbread for dipping in oil.

He cleared his throat. “This kiss, was thaton your mind for tonight?”

“Uhm.” Amaranthe had only blurted it out as ajoke. She could easily see liking Deret, but more? Maybe thatwouldn’t be so bad. Being with someone who would take her onpicnics to parks and share laughs with her…. It was not as if shecould see Sicarius ever doing those things. Dear ancestors, she hadnever even gotten a true smile out of him. “Let’s just see if wecan make it through the evening without you trying to turn me overto some marines.”

“That sounds like a good start.”

Deret maneuvered himself onto the blanketwith a faint wince, and she sensed irritation in the stiff way heset the sword stick aside. Though war wounds were common in thebattle-seeking empire, he was young to have to deal with apermanent disability. He converted the wince into a smile andlifted a hand, inviting her to join him.

She sat cross-legged beside him.

“So,” Deret said as he dug out a corkscrew,“are you going to give me the full story of what happened downthere, or am I going to have to go into aggressive interviewermode?”

“Does an aggressive interview involve threatsand punches?”

“Usually only with prospects that are maleand criminal.” He poured two glasses of wine and handed herone.

“And female criminals?”

“I have to bludgeon them into talking usingmy wit.” He grinned, and she found herself responding in kind.“But,” he went on, “I’m told it’s not-emperor’s warts!” He gaped atsomething on the other side of Amaranthe.

Sicarius stood there, hands clasped behindhis back. Her first thought was that he had been running andstopped by to check and make sure Deret wasn’t up to no good, buthe was freshly shaven and had also combed his hair, though tuftsstill stuck out in spots, a result of him choosing to cut it on hisown…with a knife. He wore his typical fitted black with his shirtneatly tucked in. No red dust from the lakeside running trailsmeared his soft boots. He was as tidy and presentable as ever, ifone ignored the throwing knives adorning his arm.

“Problem?” Amaranthe asked.

Deret had sloshed wine on his arm, and hewiped it while he glowered at their intruder.

“Yes,” Sicarius said.

“Back at camp?” she asked.

“No.”

Amaranthe waited for him to explain hispresence. He simply stood there, watching them. He hadn’t decidedshe needed a bodyguard, or, emperor forbid, a chaperone, hadhe?

“What is the problem?” she asked.

“Besides his presence?” Deret muttered.

“I wish to speak with you,” Sicarius said,ignoring Deret. Wish? Not “will” or “must?” Thatwas…polite for him. Yet, if it wasn’t an emergency, surely itcould wait.

“Now?” she asked, pointedly tilting her headtoward Deret.

Sicarius flicked a dismissive glance towardhim, but said, “I can wait until you finish here.”

He made no move to leave. Did he intend towait right there?

“I didn’t bring enough food for three,” Derettold him.

“I am not hungry.”

Amaranthe never would have consideredSicarius the type to be deliberately obtuse, but he certainlyseemed to fall into that category tonight. She sighed and toldDeret, “I better see what he wants.”

“Aren’t you in charge of the group? Can’t youtell him to run along and sharpen his knives?”

For the first time, Sicarius turned his gazeon Deret, and it was an icy one. Amaranthe did not think he wouldattack someone simply for annoying him-surely, Maldynado would bedead thirty or forty times by now if that were the case-butSicarius might decide Deret represented a threat, and do away withhim the callous way he did away with other threats.

“My wholesome charms don’t work that well onhim,” Amaranthe said, climbing to her feet as she spoke. Best toseparate the two men before Deret sent any more jabs atSicarius.

“You’re coming back, right?” Deret asked.

“Yes,” Amaranthe said at the same time asSicarius said, “No.”

“I’ll be back,” Amaranthe said with a coollook of her own for Sicarius, then she followed as he led the waydown the hill.

The sun had dropped below the horizon, andtwilight darkened the park. Gas lamps glowed, but Sicarius avoidedthe paths they lit, striding across the grass toward the toweringhedges of the Emperor’s Maze. Amaranthe’s heart sped up, and anuncertain flutter of anticipation danced through her gut. If thiswere any other man, she’d assume he was leading her into the hedgemaze for a private tryst, but this was Sicarius. He’d bemore likely to lead her off for a private evening of weaponspractice.

Though her sandals and dress made her gaitslower than usual, he was careful not to outpace her. He wound hisway into the maze. Giggles and low conversations drifted from thealcoves. On such a lovely summer evening, it might be hard to finda private spot anywhere in the park.

They padded down a long aisle of lush grasssurrounded by the smell of freshly watered hedges and flowers, andhe seemed to find a spot he liked. He turned into an alcove with abench and a small fountain tinkling softly.

“Romantic spot,” Amaranthe said. “Are youbringing me here to seduce me?” She kept her tone light, so hewould know she was joking, but that nervous flutter teased herinsides again. What if she wasn’t? Or he wasn’t? Or-erg, she had tostop thinking.

“You’re dressed for it,” Sicarius said,surprising her.

Her first thought was that he was implyingdisapproval at her bare-armed attire-he certainly had beeninsulting about the last dress Maldynado picked out forher-but his tone lacked any sort of edge, and he looked back andnudged her when she drew even with him.

Ah, that was teasing, if one could call itthat. He was quoting her line from the lake.

“You’re not,” she said, quoting his line.

“No?” Sicarius stopped before the bench andexamined his clothing. He smoothed a non-existent wrinkle andbrushed an imaginary fleck of dust from the hilt of one of hisdaggers.

Actually, the black, however unimaginative,did accentuate everything nicely, and he’d have littletrouble stirring a woman’s fantasies in that outfit…or anythingelse. But that was far too honest to admit aloud. “In myexperience,” she said, “seductions usually involve fewerknives.”

“Huh.” Something in that single syllable madeher believe that hadn’t been his experience. She supposedanyone with the guts to proposition him…liked that it took gutsto proposition him and found the blade collection an appealing partof the package.

Sicarius sat on the bench and held a handout, offering her the seat beside him.

Amaranthe ought to tell him to hurry up andsay what he had to say because Deret was waiting on her, but shecouldn’t bring herself to mention him. She didn’t want to go backto Deret, not when she actually had Sicarius in a romantic spot,and he wasn’t discussing work. Well, he wasn’t discussing anythingyet. She didn’t know what to expect. It was bizarre of him even tosit on a bench; usually, he’d nod for her to sit while he remainedstanding and alert, surveying their surroundings as they spoke.

It was not a large bench, and when Amarantheslid onto it, her leg touched his. The tall shrubs must haveprotected the stone seat from the afternoon sun, for its coolnessseeped through her dress. It made her hyperaware of the heat fromSicarius’s thigh.

“You mentioned a problem?” she asked,cringing when her voice cracked. She cleared her throat.

“Yes.”

Someone giggled in another alcove. A smallcreature rustled through the undergrowth beside them.

“And that problem would be…?” Amarantheprompted.

“Your plans to kiss Mancrest.”

Amaranthe bolted up from the bench. Hertongue tangled under the assault of words that flooded into hermouth. Part of her wanted to deny any such thing, and part of herwanted to berate him for eavesdropping. All of her felt like achild caught reaching for a forbidden bag of candies. She hadnothing to be guilty over though. She hadn’t betrayed Sicarius.They had no agreement of fidelity. And besides, she hadn’t said shewas going to kiss Deret. She’d only been in the earliest stages ofthinking maybe he might be someone with whom shecould see having a relationship.

She settled for crossing her arms over herchest and saying, “How long were you skulking about the gardens,spying on us?”

He gazed up at her. The deepening twilighthid the nuances of his features, and she couldn’t tell if anythingother than his usual mask occupied his face. “What do you consider‘long’?”

“A period of time during which a normal,considerate person would feel ashamed for listening in onsomeone else’s conversation.”

Sicarius did not answer.

Amaranthe sighed and dropped her hands. “Whatare you doing out here? Checking up? Do you still believe Deret isa threat to me?”

“No.”

Crickets sang to each other in the shrubswhile Amaranthe waited for him to explain further.

“I do not like you seeing him,” he finallysaid.

“Because…?”

“You know why.”

She spread her arms. “With any other man inthe world, I’d be positive, but this is you. Lord GeneralUnreadable.” Besides if it was what she thought, she wanted to hearhim say it.

His sigh was so soft she might have imaginedit. “It makes me jealous.”

Dear ancestors, she might have wantedhim to say it, but she had not truly expected him to admit it. “ButI’ve told you how I feel about you, and you chose not to doanything about it.”

“I told you why.”

Amaranthe was torn between rolling her eyesin frustration at him and being tickled it bothered him to see herhaving dinner with another man. She took a few steps to thefountain and leaned her hands against the damp stone rim. “Let mesee if I’ve got this. You’re not willing to have a relationshipwith me, but you don’t want me to have a relationship with anyoneelse either.”

“Yes,” Sicarius said. “Is thatacceptable?”

She snorted. “No, it’s not.”

Sicarius joined her by the fountain. “Ithought not, but you raised my hopes.”

Amaranthe rubbed her face to hide a smilecreeping onto her lips. She ought to be furious, but thiswas progress for him. Incredible to think it from a man overthirty-five years old, but he had probably never been jealous ofanyone in his life, nor told a woman he cared. “I wouldn’t havethought you were the type to do something so frivolous ashope.”

“A recent development.” Sicarius extended hisarm, a hand out to her.

She stared at it, not sure what he wasoffering. She tried to read his face, but the darkness hid what fewcues he gave. A warm breeze whispered through, ruffling his shorthair.

Amaranthe stepped toward him, and he drew herinto a hug. At first, she could only stand there, shocked. Despitethe chiseled muscles beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, hisembrace was gentle. She grew aware of his scent, of shaving soapand weapons cleaning oil, and inhaled deeply. Closing her eyes, sheleaned into him and slipped her arms around his waist. Her knucklesbumped against the hilts of knives, and she smiled in bemusement.Only Sicarius would bring all his weapons to the smooching cornerof the Imperial Gardens.

He lowered his head and rested his cheekagainst her temple. His soft exhalations warmed her neck, and heatcurled through her body. She wanted to see if he might beinterested in a little more than a hug, but she didn’t. He alwaysseemed like a feral animal in moments like this, and she feared anyshow of enthusiasm would send him stampeding back into his denwhere he’d hide behind a wall of emotionless stoicism.

“You’re the only person who’s ever wanted togive me happiness,” Sicarius said.

That puzzled her until she remembered whenshe had said that, in her talk with Basilard the week before. “Doyou eavesdrop on every conversation I have with othermen?”

“You can’t call it eavesdropping just becauseyou don’t notice me in the area.”

She snorted again. He sounded like he wasenjoying himself. Probably because he had gotten away with stealingher from her evening with Deret, and she was not giving him a hardtime about it. “You’re stealthier than a cat’s shadow. You can’tpossibly expect me to notice you when you’re lurking.”

“Perhaps you have not been assiduous enoughwith your training.”

“I can’t believe you’re blaming me for thefact that you’re a chronic eavesdropper.”

“What did you expect from an assassin?” heasked, tone teasing-or as close to it as he got.

Sicarius drew back, and Amaranthe caught hiswrists before he could step away completely.

“We haven’t resolved anything, you know,” shesaid.

He extricated one hand and pointed to thebench. He probably wanted to sit and discuss the situation, as ifit were some battle plan they were concocting. Shaking her head,she returned to her seat.

“Just to be clear,” Amaranthe said, “thisjealousy of yours, it arises from the fact that you’d like tobe…uhm…” She groped for a word. With anyone else, she would saylovers, but that implied emotions she doubted he would ever admitto-if he could feel them at all. “…Bed friends,” she said, thenrolled her eyes. Lovers would have been better. “It’s not just someterritorial dog-peeing-on-a-lamp-post thing, right?”

“Bed friends?”

Yes, he probably thought she was sillybecause she didn’t simply say what she meant, but, curse him, hewasn’t saying what he meant either.

“Are you voting for that one or mocking theterm?” Amaranthe asked.

“Yes.”

Someday she was going to learn not to givehim those sorts of questions. “Somehow, I think things would begoing easier for me if I’d stayed on the hill, drinking Deret’swine.”

“You like a challenge.”

She grew aware of the warmth of his thighagain. “Would it truly be so detrimental if we…were a we? If it’sabout the men being jealous that two out of the six people in thegroup get to have…bed friends, that’s not really a problem whenwe’re in the city, right? They can go off and find their ownpartners. They wouldn’t even need to know. You’re about asdemonstrative as a rock, and I think I can manage to keep my handsoff of you while the others are around.”

“Really,” he said dryly.

Though she doubted Sicarius would fail tomiss spies in the bushes, she lowered her voice to a whisper tosay, “If it’s about Sespian, I can understand you not wanting moreobstacles between you two, but it would be my choice. Evenif he does still have feelings, which is unlikely.”

“You might decide he’s a better choice.”

“Oh, I’m certain he is.” Amaranthe grinned,though the deepening darkness probably hid it. “But, as you pointedout, I like a challenge. Why would I want to spend time with someadoring, warm youngster when I could have a stiff, aloof assassinwhose idea of romance involves throwing knives and running upstairs together?”

“That’s not romance; that’s training.”

“Is there a difference for you?”

“Slight.”

Sicarius stood, breaking the contact betweenthem.

Amaranthe sighed. Cool evening air whisperedpast her arms, and dew-touched grass flicked at her bare toes. “Iguess this means you’re not going to demonstrate what thatdifference might be?”

“Not until this is over.”

“This being our…exoneration? And youhaving a chance to talk with Sespian?”

“The latter in particular.”

Amaranthe fought down a grumble. So, she gothim if she found a way to put him and Sespian together, sohe could have his chance to explain everything to his son. Settingthat up had always been her intent, but she was not sure how longit would take.

She supposed she ought to find it encouragingthat Sicarius cared enough about righting things with Sespian notto want to steal his girl, but, cursed ancestors, she wasn’this girl. And he had surely gotten over that fleeting infatuationby now anyway. He had been drug-addled at the time after all.

“In the meantime,” Amaranthe said, “I get tospend my nights sitting chastely in the team hideout?”How…wholesome.

“We could add an evening training session toyour regimen.”

She groaned and dropped her head in herhands. “You have a disturbing sense of humor.”

A long moment passed before he said, “Offer aproposition.”

“I don’t know.” Amaranthe shruggedhelplessly. “I can wait. I just need to know…. Well, we’ve nevereven kissed. How am I supposed to know if all this is worthit?”

She winced as soon as the words came out. Shehadn’t meant to imply that he wasn’t worth waiting for, justthat she didn’t know if they’d actually have a physical connectionwhen they actually-

“Worth it?” Sicarius asked, sounding,for the first time she could recall, offended.

Amaranthe groaned. She was making a mess ofthis.

She stretched out an apologetic hand.Sicarius took it and pulled her off the bench. Her feet tangled,and she stumbled into him. His other arm came around her, and hepulled her against him with none of his earlier gentleness.

He wouldn’t hurt her-at least she didn’tthink he would-but her heart quickened, a jolt of concerncoursing through her. Maybe she had pushed him too far. The armwrapped around her tightened, mashing her against his chest. Thefabric of his shirt did nothing to soften the ridges of granitemuscle beneath it, and the thought crossed her mind that if sheever truly did anger him, all her training would be no use.

Amaranthe swallowed and opened her mouth tospeak, though she was not sure whether she meant to apologize orblurt some sort of bravado. It didn’t matter. His mouth found hers,open, demanding, and she forgot about talking. And breathing.

The kiss crackled with intensity, and shethought of the hull of that fortress, its electrical chargeknocking her on her backside. She wriggled her arms around him andreturned the kiss.

His fingers tangled in her hair, caressingthe back of her neck. An ache grew inside, and her toes curledaround the edges of her sandals. She thought of kicking them off,of kicking everything off and-

Sicarius released her and stepped back,leaving her stunned and breathless, her heart galloping in placebehind her ribs. Then, without a word, he strode away.

Amaranthe, legs wobbly, collapsed on thebench. “He’s right,” she croaked. “It is different thantraining.”