“Is that true?” he says.
I nod. “Yes, Mouse,” I wheeze. “It’s true.”
Lina tries to tug her arm free. “You let me go, Mouse, or I’m going to carve my name into yourback.”
He looks at her. “Stop hitting him, Lina. Oren needs to know first.”
She glares at him, but one of the men pinning my arms to the bricks says, “He’s right, Li. Oren needs to know.”
She swears. “Fine. Bring them.”
The ship is black in the moonlight, only a few lanterns hung from the masts. Now I have an ache in my gut to go along with my sore ankle. At least I was able to wipe Lina’s spit from my eyes.
It’s clear that Lina doesn’t believe us when she announces our arrival to Oren and anyone on deck to listen.
“They didn’t kill Cheeke,” she says, sounding exasperated. “They didn’t even have anything with them. They completely failed, and now they’re making up a story about Bella so you don’t hang them.”
“What story?” says Oren.
“We broke in,” I say. “We met Cheeke and his people.” I pause and look around at the other sailors. “While Lina might like to leave people in a pile of broken bones, Lochlan and I find it’s easier to get information with a little bit of sophistication and grace. What we discovered was too important, so we were returning to you for further orders.”
I say “orders” deliberately, offering Oren Crane the power here. I see the flicker in his eyes as it registers.
“Ask your people,” I continue. “We didn’t even resist when they dragged us into the alley.”
Oren studies me, looking for a lie.
But there isn’t one.
Mouse offers, “They didn’t fight, Mr. Crane. They asked us to bring them to you.”
“You still haven’t told me what you’ve learned about my daughter,” says Oren.
I nod. “Ford has received letters from Redstone that indicated he still has Bella held captive.”
That flicker in his eyes turns into a gleam. “Where?”
“In his palace. But he would obviously move her to a new location if he thought you were planning a rescue.”
“Then how does that help me?” Oren demands.
“I could leak false information to Ford Cheeke,” I say. “Tell him that you’re planning a rescue—and find out where they’re moving her. Then you could plan arealrescue that they’re not expecting.”
“Why would you help me?” says Oren.
“Whywouldn’tI help you?” I say. “As I’ve said before, Galen Redstone killed my prince and tricked my king.” It takes no effort to insert fury into my tone. “You think I can’t wait to cut his throat, too? I’ll do anything I can to help you. I’ll even rescue her myself if you want—though I’m sure she’d rather see her father’s face as her savior.”
Those words hit their mark, too.
Lina practically explodes. “Why would Ford Cheeke tell you any of this?” she demands. “You broke in to kill him. This has to be a lie.”
Oren turns his gaze back to me and Lochlan. Some of that spark in his eyes dims. “Indeed. Explainthat, Weston Lark.”
“Oh, that’s not who I said I was,” I say. “I told Mr. Cheeke that Weston Lark drowned in the attack.”
Lochlan nods and claps me on the shoulder. “It was very tragic. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Oren is studying me now, and he looks like he can’t decide whether to be angry or amused. “Then who does he think you are?”
