THE SABLE SPY | TWO
TEN YEARS LATER,
IT WAS A RAINY DAY, and Cassalyn Diao was dying.
There had to be some kind of irony in this, she thought to herself, almost smiling as she staggered through the streets, a hand pressed against the bleeding wound on her arm with a grimace. She was losing far too much blood. She needed to get help soon, and fast. She weighed her choices.
She wasn't supposed to be in Arecia. No, she wasn't supposed to return from her posting in Gira for at least a few more months. She had started separating herself from the Arecian Secret Service years ago, as her family worked to return to their home in Sai. This wasn't a sanctioned mission. Her mistake. But when she realised what she had unearthed was far past her own ability, and she suddenly found her allies dropping one by one like stones, she had sped to Arecia by boat. But she was too late. They managed to catch up with her the moment she got her feet on dry land. Or perhaps they were waiting for her here all along, and she had walked neatly into their trap. She barely escaped with her life.
Fuck. Cirinique, her little sister was out of the country most likely, on a mission of her own. The mission they had discussed. The mission she got this damned slash trying to complete. There would be no help there. Lady Kuroki's School for Girls had a small house that would be sparsely populated at this time of year, but it was too far away. She thought about her other friends: none of them would be able to help her with a wound like this. They were too far away, anyways.
She was out of choices, then.
Coward, she spat to herself, her boots landing on a splash of water. He was one boy. She could survive one stupid meeting. Especially since the other option was surely to bleed out on the cold Arecian streets. The Arecian Secret Service would be more than equipped to deal with her wound. There was no better choice.
So Cass braced herself and started towards the direction of Borewood Street. If she wasn't injured, she could have made it there in less than ten minutes. But she was sore and tired and bleeding in more places than she could count. She caught a few stares, but no one stopped to help. She carried on. Through Fleet Route. Past Wright Avenue. She soldiered onwards. Didn't dare stop, because once she did she wouldn't be able to force herself to continue on. She blinked back tears.
Hadn't this been the situation she was in ten years ago, almost down to the exact day? Injured, going through the streets of Arecia? Though she was hardly as hurt as this the last time around, and Ciri had been there to help her. Clever, strong little Ciri. How she missed her little sister.
A turn. And she was on Borewood Street. The service had chosen well. The street was quiet at this time of night. No one would glance twice. Perfectly normal residential street. She let herself relax. Felt herself calm. Even if she fainted here, or died here, someone would see. Someone would avenge her, and tell Ciri what happened.
She forced herself onwards to Borewood Street. Felt her mind blanking as she managed to pull herself up the porch and rap her knuckles against the door. Felt the door swing open and then—
Darkness.
✴
"I SAID I WANTED to see her again. And now she shows up at our doorstep half-dead, unconscious and bleeding." Marcus Dalton paced around the room, a hand pulling back his white gold locks. Laurence sat on a chair near the door, quietly thinking, which was rare indeed. Thinking had never seemed to be one of Laurence Dumont's favoured activities, and when he did it, he did so loudly, rambling on and on until Marcus was tempted to shove his face in a chamberpot.
"She came from the docks," Laurence finally said. "Just arrived back in Arecia, I think. Most likely was attacked there. The crew on the ship would have helped her otherwise. She comes in the middle of the night. Alone. We found her luggage abandoned near an alleyway full of blood. Two men dead. Her work, I think."
"I thought she retired."
"Well, not exactly," Laurence mused. "She doesn't really work for Secret Service anymore, that's for sure. She never really belonged here anyways. She's Saian through and through. Always been a patriot, our Cass, even though the current dynasty banished her entire family and took everything she owned away. It's one of the most interesting facts about her, really." He knew that. A bit too well. It was why he hadn't talked to her in six years. "I heard that the Emperor is considering letting them back, though their dukedom would only be a slice of what it was before. The Sable could build it back up, I think."
"I never saw her around. I've barely ever seen her in the past six years."
Laurence blinked, nonplussed. "You never realised?"
Marcus stared. "Realised what?"
"She only stopped showing up regularly, asking for missions around three years ago. When her family began making progress in communications with the Yie dynasty. Most likely they told her to at least try to stay away, since the Saians don't trust us all that much. We all know what happened six years ago. Most of us agreed that it'd be best if you were kept separate."
"You guys... purposefully separated us?" He asked, incredulous.
Laurence gave him a look of confusion. "Is it that surprising? You've done the same for some agents."
"No. I just didn't expect it, that's all," he muttered.
The door swung open, and Cadieux moved out, the doctor behind him. "She'll live," the doctor told them. "The knife didn't hit anything major. I've stopped the bleeding. The wound didn't seem to be poisoned, so she should be alright after some time. Call me if there's any change." Then he started down the corridor and vanished down the stairs.
Marcus let out a breath of relief. Cadieux said, "I'll send a note to Cirinique. She'll want to come here. She'll be perfectly alright, stop pacing, Dalton, you're making me nervous. She's the Sable Cub. Little Sable. She's her great-aunt's girl through and through, she's not going to die from a measly stab wound."
"I'm just dreading when she wakes up," he managed weakly. "I can't tell if I want her to flay me alive with that tongue of hers or for her to shower me with gratitude."
"I, for one," Laurence began, "am more interested in figuring out who was trying to kill her. A thousand times more fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"
Marcus glared. Cadieux looked faintly amused.
"It was an ambush, not an attack on a whim. I don't recognise any of the dead men, and there's no specific marking in him that might affiliate them with anyone. Then again, this is our Cassalyn we're speaking of. In the last three years alone, she's probably pissed off half the world's governments and criminal enterprises. Not to mention that she has mentioned that a few of her cousins aren't extremely fond of her. Any enemy of Cirinique's might be hers as well, and we all know our other little sable has earned the jealousy and ire of far too many debutantes and heiresses. This could be an attempt at forcing Ciri into mourning to force her out of the ton's eyes, though one could argue that those brainless highborn ladies probably don't have the guts for it." Laurence was enjoying this greatly, and most of it was nonsense, but Marcus let him continue. "Many are aware that our dear Dalton here has a tendre for Cass—" to that, Marcus grit his teeth "—so this could be one of them trying to hurt you. This could be one of the Saian nobles who got a piece of the Dai fortune trying to pick them off one by one, knowing very well that they're almost in the Emperor's good graces."
"Are you done?"
"Never, Dalton."
"Well, I'm done listening."
"She came from Gira," Cadieux began. Both pairs of eyes turned to him. "Not a sanctioned mission, mind you. I'd be a fool to send a lone girl to a place like Gira. I sent Seylace to check the ships. It left Gira a week ago and landed here today."
"If she was running from an enemy in Gira, they could have easily sent a boat that sped ahead and instructed their allies here to finish her off," Marcus muttered. Cadieux nodded.
"Exactly what I was thinking. Especially since she didn't go to Asamaya, where her family is, and where Ciri would most likely be right now, with Kuroki. Gira to Asamaya is two whole days faster than to Arecia. Whoever it was, it wasn't someone she wanted to lead to her family. So she didn't believe they could handle them. She came here. Caling. Most probably hoping to lose them here."
"She comes to us."
"My god," Laurence mused. "My dear Cass, who on earth have you managed to piss off this time?"
Marcus casted a glance at the half shut door, where Cass laid on a bed, half-dead. He clenched his fists. "Well, I'm going to wait until she wakes up and help her kill the bastards. I owe her that much."
Cadieux looked much amused. "We know, Dalton. And this might give you the chance to pick up loose threads. If you want to marry the girl, this is the best time for it. Her family would most likely be back in Sai by the end of the year. A marriage to the heir of a marquess might speed up the process."
"I'm not—"
Cadieux raised his hand, silencing him. "You two can visit her if you want. Don't move or touch her. Don't wake her either. I'll see what else Seylace and the others have figured out." And just as swiftly he had entered the conversation, Cadieux exited. Laurence tapped the arm of his chair with his fingers for a few moments before pushing himself up.
Marcus followed as the two made their way into the small guest's bedroom. It was well-lit, and he blew out a few of the candles. Wouldn't be needing those for a while. There was a desk and a chair in the corner, and a bookshelf full of dusty books more decoration than practical. A carpet on the ground, and an Asamayan screen that blocked off a part of the room. In the middle was the bed, where Cass laid, unconscious. Her breathing was faint, he noted. Expected, but it still made his heart clench.
He hadn't gotten a good look at her. She had fallen at the porch, and they had quickly moved her into the bedroom before calling for a doctor. Then Cadieux had quickly dispatched many of them out. Marcus went to grab the doctor. Laurence, Seylace and the others went to follow her trail. She had lost a lot of blood coming here.
Six years had changed her. He'd seen her from afar, once or twice, but he kept his distance. If she saw him, she ignored him. Her hair, black as the night, was splayed on the silk pillow. He knew how it felt in his hand. Her skin had always been pale, even in the summers they had spent trudging across the countrysides of foreign countries gathering information under the endless sun. She wasn't a diamond of the first water, that was Ciri, but she had always been beautiful as well, though her features always seemed a bit too harsh. Her face wasn't symmetrical, one eye slightly bigger than the other, but she was still very pleasing to the eye. She had matured greatly. Any trace of the young girl back then was gone now. This was not a child. This was a woman who had survived through many, many things.
Laurence made a disapproving tut-tut sound. "She hasn't been eating properly. As skinny as when we first found her in Sial. My, was that really ten years ago? We were children, then. Both of us just began training and learning under Cadieux." Spying was in both of their blood. Laurence's father, Jack Dumont had been one of the best field agents of his time. He died two years ago, at the hands of very angry men in Melique. Marcus's own father had never stepped onto the field, but worked behind the scenes as a diplomat, gathering intelligence when he could.
"We're not those children anymore."
"No," Laurence agreed. "We stopped being children long ago."
It was the sad truth. Whatever naivete had existed in them had been stripped away years ago. Cass had never been a child, even when she was still living pampered under her aunt's care in Dai. Even then, when a betrothal was being discussed, Marcus had found himself on the edge whenever he was near his potential bride. His own carefree existence had been torn apart the moment he stepped foot into this very house, led by his father. Laurence's father hadn't wanted this path for his son, but he had insisted.
"Who on earth wants you dead, Cassalyn?" Marcus murmured, studying the sleeping girl's face. Her expression wasn't peaceful, the agony obvious. He shut his eyes, knowing full well that that face would haunt him in the night when he tried to go to bed. He had dreamt of her many times in the past six years. Sometimes she was angry. Happy. Indifferent. He had never dreamt of her in agony, and he knew he would begin now.
Dumont answered for her. "Many people. Considering her long and ingenious career, that's hardly surprising. She'd know, I think. We just have to wait for her to wake."
"Have you checked her luggage?"
"A great many weapons. Very violent, our Little Sable. I will not claim to be surprised. The two of us are most likely to blame for her obsession with weapons. A few letters, though only from Ciri. She's too clever to leave incriminating letters behind where anyone could find them. Clothes, other than that. Very respectable clothing. Very ugly, in fact. Most likely she pretended to be a governess looking for work in Gira. Or perhaps a housekeeper."
"She's too young and pretty for both."
"Most definitely. I think that was the point, so that no one would actually hire her, and she could frolic around without much suspicion. Clever. Since she travelled alone, her only other option would have been to play the whore. She's never played a good whore."
No, and Marcus thanked god every day for that. Since she was never good at it, they never made her act it. Or perhaps it was the looming threat of the Duchess of Dai, who would most certainly not be pleased with that turn of events. The Duchess was in her seventh decade now, and had spent the past ten years rebuilding her networks. They would never reach the same height, but it was more than enough.
"She's a lady through and through. You could toss her in shit and dirt and she'd still come out looking every bit the perfect lady. There's just something about her."
"Pride, I think. Confidence too. Even when she stumbles and rages she's the Little Sable through and through. Ciri is like that as well. I know girls who would kill to be able to be like that."
Marcus mostly avoided society gatherings and balls, but Laurence, as Viscount Archsham, didn't have the same luck. He was renowned for being a rogue and a rake, and was widely considered too young for marriage. He'd be safe for a few more years from society mama's ambitious snares.
"Why Gira?" Marcus suddenly asked, dragging his fingers across the bedside table. "Is there anything interesting in Gira except a lot of crime, slums, and a few very corrupt leaders?"
"I'd say those three things would be more than attractive enough to someone like Cass," Laurence laughed. "Need I remind you that we found her and Ciri in Sial Corner of all places? She has a love for odd spots."
"Dangerous places," he muttered somberly. "Many, many people to piss off in Gira. Many of whom would have contacts here."
"No doubt," Laurence agreed with a nod. "Come, Marcus. You and I both need a drink. What do you say to breaking into Appleton's private collection? I'll send someone up to look after her."
Marcus glanced at Cass, unconscious but breathing. He screwed his eyes shut. "Fine. But only a little. I'll watch over her for the night."
Laurence watched him, an indecipherable expression on his face before he sighed. "You're really in love with her, aren't you? My dear god, Dalton. Fine. Neglect your sleep and listen to her scold you for it tomorrow." Marcus scowled, but there was no heat in it. Laughing, Laurence shoved him out of the door.