the sable spy

CHAPTER ONE,

THE SABLE SPY | ONE

  TEN YEARS AGO,

  FAMILIAR FACES WERE RARE at this end of town. Marcus Dalton's eyes narrowed around the face of the young girl who had captured his attention. Of course he had been here before: working for the Arecian Secret Service as a new recruit meant slumming it with unsavoury figures, many of them residing here in the Sial Corner, the home of crooks, smugglers, pimps and whores. But those people he had tucked into a neat little box within his mind labelled Criminals. This girl did not belong there. She stood out, even in her ugly clothes. Perhaps it was the expression of determination, barely hiding the pain swimming under her skin. Or maybe it was her knife-straight posture, as if she was trying to convince herself into being confident. He did that sometimes.

Beside him, as if sensing his hesitation, Phillippe Cadieux, friend and mentor slowed his steps. When he halted, Laurence Dumont, on his other side, slowed as well. From a distance, they might as well have been a father with his two sons. Albeit two very different looking sons, so maybe a son and a nephew instead. Or maybe a son and his friend. Or perhaps not related at all, considering Cadieux's dark skin and the two boy's fair ones. Or maybe Cadieux would have been thought as the servant. Arecia, no matter how much of a leader they thought themselves in the new, changing world, was just as prejudiced and old-fashioned as any other country, after all.

They were just returning to their headquarters on Borewood Street after a particularly unspectacular meeting with some smugglers who had a message for them. It had been a boring day, uneventful, nothing achieved. People thought spies lived in constant danger and excitement, but that was not true. Most of the days passed like this.

"Is something wrong?" Cadieux's voice was hoarse. His throat had been damaged a few years ago, and his voice had never fully gone back to normal. It was an ugly voice. Perhaps someone else might find the man pleasing to the eye in his own way, but he reminded Marcus of an ugly bear. It added to the air of mystery around him. He, for one, looked the part of the perfect spy, efficient, practical and straight-to-the-point.

"The Eastern girl in grey. No, to the left. Yes, there. I recognise her."

Cadieux's brow raised. "And she is?"

He didn't answer. Marcus had already sped forward to cut the girl off in her track. He took his time to take a proper look at her as he ran forward, dodging between passersby with expert ease. She was tall, almost as tall as him, and looked around his age as well. Perhaps even a bit older. Her dress was ragged, her face slightly covered in soot. But he could make out her face well enough. She slowly raised her head, meeting his eyes almost hesitantly, but he knew better. After all, this girl had almost been his bride. Her gaze was scorching, her expression scorned, but there was a touch of confusion hidden in them as Marcus stood directly in her path and showed no inclination to moving. And then recognition flared in her dark eyes, but she made no move to relax. In fact, she seemed to stiffen further. She recognised him but did not trust him. Clever girl.

She didn't say anything either, but she stopped walking, staring at him suspiciously. Marcus gestured for Cadieux and Laurence to approach.

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asked, noting the pearl earrings she always seemed to wear, though they were now covered in what seemed to be year's worth of dust. The last time he had seen her, she had worn a lilac dress, and her hair had been pulled up in one of those ridiculous styles with massive hats Saian noble girls seemed to like so much. She could not look more different now.

She didn't reply, her gaze jumping to the two men now standing besides him, alert and nervous. Her body was tense, as if she was ready to run. Cadieux spoke.