Some of the men nearby snicker knowingly, though one says, “Eh, he’s just a boy. Go easy.” But that’sallhe says.
It reminds me how it was whenIwas young, tearing through the crowds of an arena. They’re all too eager to get a cold drink and a good seat, and all too willing to turn a blind eye and let soldiers— or anyone else— do whatever they want to the help.
Bailey still hasn’t moved, so without waiting for a response, I turn away, tugging him after me as if we really are going to give him a good lashing.
Maybe I’m too convincing, because he finallydoesfight, twisting against my hold and trying to jerk free. I grip tight because I can’t tell if he’s playing along, but he’s thrashing like a tethered animal. Then he swings a fist at the base of my rib cage, right at the gap in the armor.
“Silver hell, kid.” We’re definitely not working together here. I grunt and drag him between the gathering patrons. “I’m trying to help—”
He kicks me in the side of the knee. It’s so unexpected that I stumble and my grip goes slack. It’s enough time for him to twist free, but Jax catches him before he can dart off.
Bailey wrenches against his hold, too. “Let mego,” he growls. An undercurrent of fear clings to his words, and I realize Bailey thinks we reallyaredragging him into the shadows to beat the piss out of him.
Unfortunately we’ve drawn too much attention now, and I can’t let him go without drawing more.We’re nearing a narrow alleyway that leads back outside, but it’s so tight that it’s not a practical exit— or entrance. I glance at Jax and jerk my head in that direction, and we tug the boy into the tiny gap. From the smell, it seems like it’s mostly used by drunk patrons who need a place to relieve themselves, but it’s quiet and empty, and we’re away from the press and bustle of the tourney.
Once we’re alone, Bailey’s eyes shoot from me and Jax to the ends of the narrow space. He’s breathing hard, and I’m half expecting him to try to punch me again.
Instead, he stomps on Jax’s right foot.
Jax doesn’t even flinch, because it’s the false foot. He gives an aggrieved sigh, and his eyebrows go up. Bailey recoils a little, startled.
Jax looks at me. “Who is this?” he says in Syssalah. “Why did we grab him?”
The boy draws a sharp breath when he hears the foreign language, glancing between us again. “I’m not interfering with the meeting,” he says in a rush. “I never said anything to anyone. The champions just need to get their horses out—”
“Relax,” I say. “We’re not trapping you here.” I give a significant glance back toward the tourney. “I trulywastrying to get you away from the woman calling for a lashing.”
At that, Bailey blanches a little, and then he swallows. “You’re the one who freed Journ’s scraver. All the rumors said the king could control them, so I thought maybe that’s why you let him . . .” His voice trails off as he glances down at my blank armor. His eyes widen fractionally when he sees that I’m not bearing the dual crests of Emberfall and Syhl Shallow anymore. His voice drops to a hushed whisper. “You no longer serve the king,” he says. “Then why . . . why did you come back?”
I don’t correct him. Instead, I touch a hand to his chin and tip his gaze back up. “What do you know about the meeting?”
“I know the Truthbringers oppose the king’s return.” He glances at Jax. “You spoke Syssalah. You’re withthem.”
“Yes,” Jax says. “I am from Syhl Shallow.” His voice has such a cool assurance that it’s a little startling— because it lets all of Bailey’s assumptions hang in the air without confirmation or denial. It’s like the way he immediately picked up on Malin’s trickery in front of the barmaid, or the way he figured out that I was trying to separate Bailey from the crowd. I told him earlier that he makes a good spy, and I meant it— but seeing his easy competence in action is a little uncanny.
But then I remember that he was conning Lord Alek out of silver and passing notes of treason for the Truthbringers formonthswhen we first met. The whole time, I never had a clue.
I’ve known the truth for a while now, but I haven’t examined it from this angle, and the awareness pricks at me in a way I’m not expecting. It’s intriguing— and a little frightening. I’m not entirely sure I like it.
Bailey is studying me in the shadows. “You’re a Truthbringer,” he says. A line appears between his eyebrows as if he can’t quite figure meout. “Isthatwhy you let the scraver go? You’ve been working with them all along?”
“If you can’t tell us about the meeting, then we have to get moving, Bailey.” I nod back toward the tourney. “Are you going to find any more trouble in the crowds?”
I meant for that to be a prelude to letting him go, but the boy must hear it as a veiled threat. He cringes a little, then shakes his head rapidly. “No,” he says in a rush, like we’re going tomaketrouble if he says the wrong thing. “No, my lord. I won’t say anything.”
All of a sudden, I’m reminded of the time I showed up at Jax’s forge to apologize and bring him apple tarts, but he was wound up like a steel spring, thinking I was only there to beat the hell out of him.
The memory makes me want to send Bailey on his way right this very second, with a pocket full of coins for his trouble. But he’s so keyed up and anxious that a part of me worries he’s going to run right to Journ and tell him I’m here.
Jax must read the emotion as it crosses my face, because he speaks low in Syssalah. “He clearly knows about the meeting. Maybe he could lead us there.”
“He’s afraid of them,” I say. “He could also ruin our cover.”
Bailey’s gaze bounces back and forth between us— though it’s clear he doesn’t understand, and that scares him, too.
“He’s afraid ofus, too,” Jax says. A dark light sparks in his eye, and for one intense moment, he reminds me of Grey. The king doesn’t revel in the darkest parts of soldiering, but he’ll do what he has to when the need arises. The morning he confronted Jax in the shadows of his forge, Grey was ready to turn him into a sniveling pile of broken bones in order to get the answers we needed. For half a second, I wonder if Jax expects me to treat Bailey the same way.
Worse, I wonder if he might do it himself.
