When her village had been attacked, there hadn’t been anything Charm could do but flee. She couldn’t protect anyone. She couldn’t fight. This time was different. Someone she cared about was in trouble, but she could help them.

  Charm tracked the sun’s progress and spotted a dark shape on the horizon. As she watched, the shape grew larger until she could recognize Mouse coming toward her. Relief and worry warred within Charm at the sight of Aspen’s horse.

  This was their signal, Mouse seeking out Charm once horse and rider had been separated. Charm wasn’t of the Wood. She couldn’t communicate with Mouse and ask how Aspen had been when Mouse fled. Unconscious? Injured? Dead?

  Charm met Mouse in an open field and then led her to where the other animals spent the night. She took the time to brush out Mouse’s mane and tail since Aspen wasn’t here to spoil her horse.

  Not long after Mouse’s arrival, the rest of the camp woke. Charm joined the others for a light breakfast, but she couldn’t manage more than her favorite tea and a few bites of hot porridge.

  “Mouse made it,” Strength noted as she finished her second bowl of porridge. She used the last of her bread to wipe her bowl clean. “Sooner than I expected. They must’ve had lookouts spread further out than we assumed.”

  “What does that mean?” Charm asked.

  “Pike didn’t want her reaching Harstead on her own,” Strength answered.

  It wasn’t as much of an answer as Charm wanted, but that wasn’t Strength’s fault. Strength couldn’t know if Aspen had been captured unharmed or what Pike planned to do with her once she was brought to him in Harstead. Charm’s worries wouldn’t be put to rest until she had Aspen safe and whole in her arms again.

  Breakfast was almost finished when they gained another visitor.

  Amity nearly jumped out of his skin as Joy sat down next to Strength. Charm was also caught off guard by his sudden appearance. She didn't understand how such a large man could move so quietly or unnoticed.

  “We were right,” Joy said as he accepted a bowl of porridge from Sorrel. “They took her to the big fancy house. Gen says the walls are high, but because of all the surrounding buildings they’re basically useless.” Joy shoveled half the contents of the bowl into his mouth before he realized he had a rapt audience.

  Charm must look as worried as she felt because Joy’s expression softened. He set his bowl on one of his muscular thighs. “We sent some people ahead to hide out. Gen contacted me with this.” He pulled a shard necklace similar to the one Charm wore out from underneath his shirt.

  “Did she see Aspen?” Charm asked.

  Joy grinned as he nodded. “Heard her too. She was sassing her captors and walking under her own power.” He patted Charm’s knee. “Gen’s keeping an eye on things. We have an extraction plan if we need it.”

  Extraction meant they would lose their chance to take down the Scale, and Aspen would have to live on the run or out of Falland, but she’d live. Charm wanted more than that, but life had taught her a long time ago that what she wanted wasn’t always what she got.

  5

  Aspen had known that Rennell Manor had a dungeon of sorts, but never put much thought into it. Under Integrity, they’d never held anyone down here.

  It was damp, the stone walls sweating if she touched them, and there was no natural light, only the dim flickering of torches. The stench, well, it was better if she didn’t linger on the stench.

  Aspen’s cell had an iron grate to serve as a door, and an obvious lock to taunt her with her imprisonment. She had already explored her prison; four paces in each direction with a bucket in one corner and a blanket in the other. She wasn’t sure if the sparse amenities were because these were temporary holding cells or if the Scale actually expected their prisoners to last long in conditions like this.

  With no window to peer out of and nothing in her cell to occupy her, Aspen made a study of the lock. Unlike the blanket, which was fraying at the ends, and the iron grate, which was brown with rust, the lock was in pristine condition.

  The iron grating was made of strips of metal with openings wide enough for Aspen to fit her hands and wrists through. She could reach the front of the lock, something that would be more useful if she had the key or a set of lockpicks.

  A bored kid sat on a three-legged stool just outside. They would notice if she was suddenly unlocking her cell. Even if they couldn’t wield the short sword strapped to their waist, they were more than capable of sounding the alarm for an escaped prisoner.

  “There’s no point,” the guard said as Aspen inspected the lock. “There’s only one key, and I don’t have it.”

  One key meant it was most likely in Pike’s possession. Aspen wondered at the reasoning behind that. Too many guards seduced or bribed into releasing prisoners? Pike and his control issues?

  “There isn’t much else to do,” Aspen admitted to the guard. If it had been someone else, someone she recognized or an older, meaner-looking guard, she wouldn’t have said it. But the guard was barely more than a child. They were uncomfortable with their assignment, unable to sit still or even look at Aspen for very long. “I’m Aspen. She. What’s your name?”

  “Purpose, he,” he said and then scrunched up his face. “Not that you need to know that. Once Pike gets what he needs from you, we’re going to kill you. There was a vote. Hanging in the front yard won out by three votes.”

  Lovely, Aspen thought. “What were the other options?”

  “Burning you alive, trampling you with a horse, and beheading.”

  “I’m surprised that beheading didn’t win out. Also, a free tip since I’m apparently a dead woman, telling a prisoner you’re going to kill them once you have everything you need from them doesn’t inspire cooperation.”

  Purpose flushed red and shifted on his chair again. “Pike will make you cooperate. He captured you, didn’t he?”

  Not exactly, but Aspen didn’t intend to give away the game, certainly not this early.

  “He knew it was only a matter of time,” Purpose continued. “When you killed Integrity, you stole his seal ring and the key to his vault so you could set yourself up as the new leader of the Scale. Pike chased you away, but he knew greed would bring you back.” Purpose scooted to the edge of his stool. “They searched you when they brought you in, but they didn’t find the ring or the key.”

  “I have trained birds,” Aspen said. “Once I was inside the manor, I was going to whistle for them, but I was caught on the way.”

  “Really?”

  Aspen almost felt bad for how easy it was to lie to the boy. Then she remembered that she was locked down here until she decided being dead was better than shitting in a bucket and shivering under a thin blanket.

  “Pike said you know what’s in the vault and that it was worth killing for,” Purpose said, his voice oddly hopeful, like a child waiting for a tale about untold riches waiting to be claimed.

  Aspen knew about the vault. Everyone in Integrity’s inner circle did, and then the others heard about it as whispers and gossip traveled. She’d never been inside. Integrity had told her his greatest treasures were in there, sealed away to protect them from both age and theft.

  She’d never believed that it was a vault full of gold. Integrity had shared everything he’d possessed. He’d used it to fund the Scale and help those in need. Toward the end, he’d confided in Aspen that his funds were drying up, and he hadn’t known what would happen when he could no longer pay salaries. If he’d had a secret vault full of gold, he would have opened it to continue the Scale’s work.

  Knowing Integrity, it was probably empty. It was like him to build a secret, impenetrable room as a joke and then tell others there was something valuable inside. Or maybe it was supposed to be a test. He was fond of those as well. Whoever could find their way inside would be gifted with the contents of the vault.

  How many times had Aspen gone through an obstacle course or navigated a room full of traps in order to challenge herself? Integrity had liked to have two or more members race, whether it was a test of strength or agility or even logic. The prize had usually been something small—a coveted dessert, a new weapon, an interesting job. Aspen had thrived on the competition and the win.

  Thinking back on it now, Integrity had pitted her against Pike more than anyone else in the Scale. She’d worked with Strength and Ayzeh, but she’d never worked with Pike. Was he bitter over how often Aspen had beaten him? Did he truly believe Integrity had favored her enough to tell her the secret of his vault? And did he think she was so desperate she’d attempt to breach his stronghold in order to steal from it?

  Strategy had never been Pike’s strength, which was doubtless one of the reasons Integrity hadn’t favored him. Pike knew what he wanted, but he had a reckless streak. He would act and then scramble to cover up or justify his actions.

  Had Integrity done something that set Pike off? If Pike had killed Integrity in a moment of blind rage, he would have needed to shift the blame. Rumors about other players in the city wanting the Scale out of the picture. Hints that maybe it had been an outside hit. And then, when Aspen had become frustrated with Pike’s leadership, he’d found his best target.

  She had unknowingly played into his narrative. This whole time she’d been attempting to make a life for herself, to live by Integrity's values but without his support, Pike had been spreading lies. He was hunting her, prepared to capture and kill her to close the loop on his coup.

  Was it worse if Pike had killed Integrity impulsively or if he’d planned it? Pike had chafed under Integrity's leadership, and he’d resented what he called charity work, but she’d never expected it would lead to murder.

  “Is it jewelry in the vault?” Purpose asked. “My girlfriend wants to wear jewels like the rich ladies.”

  “You’ll never know,” Aspen answered. “And you’ll never see it. If Pike manages to get into the vault, this is what will happen. He’ll clear it out and stash it somewhere privately. He’ll arrange for my escape so he can claim I stole everything and got away. His most trusted men will track me down and kill me and then make sure no one ever finds the body. The treasure will be gone, I will be blamed, and Pike will sit on his hoard like a selfish dragon.”

  The boy shook his head, defiant in his anger. He even jumped to his feet and shook his finger at Aspen. “You’re a liar! Pike said not to listen to you. You lie and you kill and you betray anyone you can get to trust you.”

  “Bold accusations,” Aspen said.

  “The proof is here!”

  “Shift’s over, Purpose.” A new guard came down the stairs. Older than Purpose, they walked with a confidence the younger guard didn’t have. Disapproval soured their expression when they perceived that Purpose and Aspen had been chatting, and they said to Purpose, “Head to the sparring grounds and work some of this out before you do something stupid.”

  “You’re stupid,” Purpose muttered, and then more loudly, “Thank you, Will.” He stomped off.

  Will, the new guard, rolled their eyes and sat on the stool. “You won’t provoke me as easily as you provoked him.”

  “I didn’t set out to provoke him,” Aspen said. “We were talking to pass the time.”

  Will tipped their head back against the wall and closed their eyes. Apparently, they intended to pass the time in silence. Or perhaps sleep.

  Aspen followed their lead. She retreated to the far corner of her cell and leaned back against the damp stone walls. She wrinkled her nose at the slimy feel of the stone before she smoothed out her expression and closed her eyes.

  She didn’t sleep—she didn’t dare let her guard down like that—but she did rest. Her own inaction eventually led to her guard falling into a true sleep rather than feigning it. Will’s breathing evened out and deepened until they were snoring. Their head lolled against the wall and then rolled forward to hang down in a way that would be deeply uncomfortable once they woke up.

  Aspen hummed quietly. “Lluvy’s Rainfall” was a catchy tune, the kind of song that lodged in someone’s head and then pounded on their skull, searching for escape. It was beloved by children and hated by adults. After two stanzas, Aspen determined the guard must be asleep or else they would have told her to shut up.

  Still, she turned so her back would shield her actions from anyone looking into her cell, and then she pried loose the secret compartment in her boot heel. When the guards had searched her, they’d taken her boots and shaken them upside down, but they hadn’t discovered this.

  She retrieved the cloth-wrapped bundle, padded to be noiseless at every step. She glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure, and then peeled back the cloth.

  Even in the comfort of her wagon, Charm slept lightly. All it took to rouse her was the sound of Aspen’s voice whispering her name. The nest of pillows and blankets toppled and scattered as Charm sat up. Blue moonlight filtered through the curtains. She groped for a light globe with one hand.

  “Aspen?” Charm spoke quietly and gripped the tiny mirror pendant between her fingers. Its silvered surface was uninterrupted black. “I can’t see you.”

  “It’s dark in my cell.”

  It would be. Aspen said the word “cell” so casually. Charm’s hand landed on the glass of the light globe and its magic warmed to life at her touch, casting a soft white glow into the wagon. “I miss you,” she said.

  “I miss you too,” Aspen said. “I don’t know how long the guard will sleep, so I have to talk fast.”

  What came spilling out was a bizarre story she’d drawn out of her guards—Charm felt a flutter of pride, thinking of Aspen sneakily eliciting information from strangers—about how Aspen had killed the founder of the Scale, and had come back for the contents of his mysterious, locked vault.

  “Is there really a vault? Does it have treasure in it?” Charm asked.

  “There’s a vault. No treasure. It’s impossible to get in without Integrity’s seal, anyway. That’s not important—I think some of the Scale members aren’t fully loyal to Pike. Maybe we can convince them not to fight us. And speaking of, we need to talk about the house’s grounds and floor plan—”

  “Strength drew us a map,” Charm said. “High exterior walls along the street, courtyard in front of the main door, extensive training grounds behind the house, three stories within the house plus a couple of turrets at the corners, discreet servants’ entrance—”

  “My cell is in the basement,” Aspen interrupted. “And I think Pike either keeps the key on his person or in his study, which is at the top of the northwest tower. It will be risky to retrieve it.”

  “I can do it.”

  “His study is only accessible by a narrow spiral staircase. And if he’s there, you shouldn’t confront him. He’s a very dangerous man, Charm.”

  “I can do it,” Charm repeated. “You don’t think I’ve ever picked a very dangerous man’s pocket before? I can get into that vault, too.”

  “Charm. We have enough to worry about.”

  “I wish I could see your face,” Charm said. “I know I will soon, but I wish I could see you right now. You know if you keep touching the mirror shard, the connection stays open even if we’re not speaking? You could just hold it.”

  “I’d like to,” Aspen said, sounding pained. “But I can’t let them catch me with this. They’ll take it. Good night, Charm.”

  “Good night, Aspen,” she said, and couldn’t tell if Aspen heard her. She touched the light globe again to darken it and then sat back in her bed, which was cold even with all the blankets piled on top.

  Without a window, Aspen had trouble keeping track of time in the cell. Her sleeping guard eventually woke and changed places with another, even less talkative one. Early morning, she guessed.

  Pike’s arrival confirmed that. Or not so much his presence but the smell of a meat pie, fresh enough that it cut through the dank air of the dungeon. Ground beef with caraway seeds in the pastry. Aspen recognized it not from her own yearning—as hungry as she was, beef had always turned her stomach—but because Pike had eaten the same thing for breakfast every day for all the years they’d trained together. The pie wasn’t in evidence, but there was a tiny flake of pastry caught in the light brown stubble under his lips.

  He had the same sword strapped to his back that he’d preferred back then, too. A two-hander, meant for cleaving bodies. Its presence made Aspen miss the weight of her much lighter sword.

  “Do you get those pies from the same seller after all these years?” Aspen asked. “A woman in Yarrow Street, wasn’t it? She must be a grandmother by now.”

  His lip curled. “Trying to play for sympathy? We might have been friends once, but that was a long time ago.”

  “What changed?” Her question was sincere. She’d never understood why their early, comrades-in-arms friendship had fallen apart. He’d been a little impulsive when they’d worked together, quick to anger, but his inclination toward cruelty hadn’t been obvious then. He’d pulled away from her first.

  “I realized you were a stuck-up, sanctimonious bitch,” he said. “I couldn’t stand to watch how you’d wrapped Integrity around your little finger—even though you’ve never been pretty enough to deserve any man’s attention.”

  “People don’t usually accuse me of having feminine wiles,” Aspen agreed. She thought fleetingly of Charm, wondering what Pike would make of her. With luck, they’d never meet.

  “It’s because of you that Integrity had a stick up his ass about my methods,” Pike said.

  Aspen restrained the surprise and puzzlement that nearly crossed her face. Pike had no love for her, that much had been obvious for years, but she wasn’t just a convenient scapegoat. Everything he’d said so far was viciously personal. “You overestimate my influence on Integrity,” she said. “He followed his own notions of right and wrong.”

  And Pike’s “methods”—trying to extort money from victims instead of protecting them—definitely fell into wrong. Integrity hadn’t needed Aspen’s help to know that.

 

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