Not Your Average Love Spell, page 7
“That would be a lie,” Sydney said through her teeth.
“Just testing you.” She snorted a laugh. “So, what will you do when he confronts you? Tell everyone his odious plan?”
Sydney drew herself up. “I will tell the truth if asked. It will be up to his conscience to decide what he shall do.”
The Hawk chuckled, but it seemed sad. “Well, at least you’re still the fool I thought you were. Welcome to knighthood, indeed.” Before Sydney could retort, the Hawk said, “Tell Sir Robert to gather his troops in an uninhabited circle of land in two days’ time. Somewhere clear of trees and as bare of fauna as you can make it. The closer he can get to his target, the better.”
Sydney blinked and tried to swallow her ire enough to respond. “Good…that’s good. He’s already planning on marching because—”
“Don’t care. I’ll be in touch.”
The view in the ball flickered and went out. Sydney blinked at it. Her anger surged, and she had to restrain herself from grabbing the ball and either engulfing it in heartfire or throwing it against the wall.
* * *
Camille was ready to throw a punch. She’d never done so before, but how hard could it be? She had her fist ready and was now trying to decide which part of the guard to hit.
“…can’t let just anyone roam the chapterhouse,” the guard was saying as he blocked the doors. His chin was square like a brick. That was out; Camille didn’t want to break her hand.
“And all the knights are deep in preparations for an important mission and don’t have time…”
Maybe a swift kick to the knee? Did knights have armored knees under their trousers? She should have paid closer attention to what Sydney wore instead of being so concerned with what was underneath all the clothing.
“I’ve been a guest of the knights before,” Camille tried again, though she barely heard herself. The guard didn’t have armored plates on his boots. If she stomped right on his instep… “I’m a master researcher working with Major Sydney Blakely.” The guard kept droning, and Camille raised her foot.
“Camille?” Sydney stepped through the door behind the guard. “Thank the flame. I need to speak with you.”
Camille froze, standing on one foot. Sydney’s expression seemed relieved, maybe a little haggard, but it wasn’t the rictus of betrayal Camille had been expecting. Sydney nodded at the guard, whose mouth shut with a snap upon her arrival. Sydney stepped outside, giving Camille’s raised leg a curious glance before she took Camille’s elbow and steered her away.
Camille barely kept her balance. “What—”
“The Hawk contacted me,” she whispered. She patted a bag slung over her shoulder as if its presence should mean something.
“She…did she?”
“Yes, though how she found out what Sir Robert was planning, I don’t know.”
And she truly seemed as if she didn’t. From the stories Sydney told, she was a good tactician. She could even conceive of deception if her pirate story was accurate, but even with her experience and after Sir Robert’s deviousness, she couldn’t see that someone close to her might betray her. Camille’s stomach turned over, and she was glad she didn’t have a mirror handy. She couldn’t face herself.
“Maybe Sir Robert decided to give her a sporting chance by warning her,” Camille said.
If Sydney caught the sarcastic note, she didn’t acknowledge it. Her face lit up as if that was the solution she was hoping for, then it darkened in the next second. “No, sorry, that doesn’t make much sense because you see—”
“It was a joke, Sydney. A badly timed one. Where are we going?”
Sydney pulled up short on the side of the busy street. “I’m not certain, now that you ask. My head is spinning.” She breathed deeply and put her hands on her hips. She wasn’t stupid. She’d figure out what had happened, and Camille should make sure it was sooner rather than later. But when Sydney said they needed to speak in absolute privacy, Camille led her to the library again, to the basement and one of the storage rooms with a door.
“I never thought that a place where everyone can come for knowledge would be home to so many conspiracies,” Camille said dully. She waved when Sydney’s expression turned apologetic. “Never mind me. Sarcastic jokes are how I deal with stress.”
Sydney nodded and opened her bag. When she pulled out a crystal ball, Camille gasped. She’d read about such witches’ tools, but she’d never seen one. She took its weight in hand and peered into the depths but saw nothing save a distorted view out the other side. Excitement tingled through her, and she had so many questions about how it worked. When she opened her mouth to speak, Sydney put a finger to her lips. She took the ball, put it back in the bag, and then covered that with several odds and ends lying around the storeroom.
“I don’t know how much she can hear without the other person knowing,” Sydney said quietly.
“But aren’t you just going to tell me what she already told you?”
Sydney’s mouth shut, and she frowned at nothing before shaking her head. “The Hawk has agreed to help us. She wants the troops out in the open in two days’ time so she can transport them, and she thinks Sir Robert will order me to kill her afterward, then tell everyone that was my plan all along.” Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down. “The flame forgive me, I think he might do so, as dishonorable as that seems.” She closed her eyes so tightly, the lids wrinkled, then she swallowed.
Camille put her arms around Sydney’s shoulders and pulled her close, ready to hold her if she needed to weep. She wanted to admit that she’d been the one who leaked Sir Robert’s plan, but she couldn’t add to Sydney’s misery. And she told herself it wasn’t important right then; it was better that the Hawk knew the plan so Sydney wouldn’t be forced to carry it out.
And she didn’t want to tell.
“Don’t go,” Camille said. “Tell Sir Robert what to do. He’ll move his troops and order you to come and carry out his plan, and then you simply don’t go.”
Sydney drew back. “Break my word?”
“Don’t give your word. You said before he never listens. Just let him talk, don’t respond, and don’t go. Make him do his own dirty work. His plan against the Hawk won’t succeed now that she knows about it.”
“But that would be…” Sydney sat heavily on a wooden crate. She mumbled a few more words, and Camille caught, “Dereliction of duty.”
“Sydney,” Camille said, kneeling. “Do you really want to remain a knight and continue to follow Sir Robert after knowing what kind of man he is?”
Sydney’s shoulders slumped so far she seemed as if she might fold in on herself.
Camille gave her a moment, then chuckled. “Unless you’re going to wrest control from him.”
“Yes.” Sydney stood so quickly, Camille fell back with an oof. Sydney bent and lifted her to her feet as if it was an afterthought. “I know there are others who think as I do. Sir Robert may have lost his way, but that doesn’t mean the order is lost.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Sydney began to pace, stroking her chin. “I can’t do it right now. We’re about to go to battle, and we’ll need unity against the Kells, but after the fight is done? I’ll refuse to kill the Hawk, go with my comrades to face the Kells, then stand up against Sir Robert when the day is won.” She seemed again the confident, radiant woman Camille had first clapped eyes on in the chapterhouse.
Camille started to object, then thought better. Maybe Sydney could make the knights into a different organization. And after she’d accepted the Hawk’s help, maybe she’d be open to the idea that magic couldn’t be evil, not if the Knights of the Flame were willing to use it.
Maybe she’d even change the world and save magic.
With a sigh, Camille said, “How can I help?”
* * *
As Sydney helped pack crates in the armory, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the preparations to march on the Kells, but so far, all the sorting and celebratory drinking had been tainted by the fact that she was also planning an…uprising.
She hated that word. It was more like a cleansing, a restoration to the values she’d learned as an initiate and recruit.
By the flame, she could use all the pretty words she wanted, but nothing would make a rank betrayal of her core values sound any nicer. And no matter what she called it, nothing could be done before the march and the battle. Sir Robert was a good tactician and a better fighter. The order would need him for the fight. But afterward, Sydney would call him out honorably and make him answer for his crimes. He couldn’t know that the Hawk was wise to his plan. When she appeared, Sydney would praise her for coming to their call. Anything Sir Robert did against her then would be a betrayal of that call, and the knights would see how far he’d fallen from the path of righteousness. When the battle was over, they’d remember.
Maybe her words would make him rethink his actions, and he would see the error of his ways and continue to lead the order as a paragon of virtue.
Sydney could only hope so.
After packing her gear, she’d begun helping the others. Many of the knights seemed reluctant to speak to her at first. She didn’t sense animosity, just general discomfort which probably signaled that they didn’t know what to say. One recruit finally admitted that rumors were flying about why Sir Robert had ordered her to stay rather than march. Some assumed she’d fallen out of favor and wanted to distance themselves from her; others thought she might be suffering from some embarrassing affliction and didn’t want to force her to speak of it.
Sydney didn’t want to ask what affliction rumor had diagnosed her with, so she told the truth. Sir Robert had ordered her to continue researching faster travel, and she was to catch up when she succeeded. But now she had succeeded, she added, and was coming along. All true, and if Sir Robert was going to leave her behind, he would have to command her in person.
And he’d had a chance. She’d reported to him after she’d spoken with Camille. He’d been writing on a sheaf of papers the entire time, and she’d had to fight the urge to demand he meet her eyes. She’d barely told him the Hawk’s instructions before he’d rung the bell on his desk and said, “Very good, Major.” Then his aide had opened the door with a humorless smile that meant, Get out, politely but firmly.
Sir Robert hadn’t even asked how she’d found the Hawk and spoken to her. She’d left the crystal ball with Camille, but still, he might have inquired.
In the armory, as Sydney loaded another crate with arrows, she paused. Maybe Sir Robert suspected the Hawk of being able to listen in on his office, and he feared giving away his plan. Maybe she could listen all through the city of Kingston, and that was how she knew to contact Sydney.
A chilling thought. And a mad one. The Hawk wouldn’t have let her pirate crew be taken if she knew of the knights’ every plan.
But they’d been rescued.
“Major?” one of the initiates asked, shaking her out of her nerves. “Are you done with that crate?”
With a start, Sydney stepped back. “Yes, sorry. Done,” she said with a smile.
“Thinking of the battle ahead?” he asked, a little green, no doubt more than a little scared. “Everyone is.”
She clapped him on the shoulder and gave him her most winning, confident smile. “Not to worry, Johansson. Remember your training and stick close to the superior you’re assigned to.”
He breathed deep and smiled back. “I’m glad you’re coming with us, Major.”
She’d been hearing such words all day, and they felt good to her heart. She only hoped the faith of her fellow knights would remain when it came time to confront Sir Robert.
If any of them survived. The Kells stood between all of them and the future.
* * *
Camille packed her clothing and provisions. She didn’t know how far Sir Robert was going to go into the countryside before calling in the Hawk. Would she need something besides clothes and food? “Why am I doing this?” she mumbled. “I’ve never been camping, and I already hate it.” After a sigh, she sat on the edge of her bed. “I don’t need to go.”
This was Sydney’s fault with her hopeful eyes and her fight for a more honorable order and the fact that Sydney was more scared for her fellows than herself. It was hard to ignore someone who wanted to protect people’s lives and their futures.
“No reason to let her turn you into a camp follower,” Camille said. But with another sigh, she went back to her knapsack. She wasn’t a camp follower. She was supposed to be the contact between Sir Robert and the Hawk; that was the tale she and Sydney had decided on, though Sydney hadn’t liked the deception.
All the more reason to give it up and not go.
But still, she packed. She had clothing for four days and a jacket in case it got cold and an oilskin in case it rained and some food and water, though she’d mooch off the knights all she could. She grabbed a pot of face cream, a comb, and a wrap for her hair at night. Who knew if they’d have the chance for a bath. She stuffed in some soap just in case and some mint wash for her teeth.
“What else?”
How many books could she fit on top? One. She sighed again. She had to bring her journal. She’d made some notes about the Kells. She’d also recorded everything she’d seen and heard about Sir Robert’s quest for magic in case Sydney needed information for her coup.
Sydney had wanted to tell Sir Robert about finding the crystal ball in her room, but Camille had convinced her to leave that part out.
Sydney had frowned hard, but Camille had said, “I’ll do all the lying.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” Sydney had stomped back to the chapterhouse but hadn’t sent word about a different plan. Camille assumed she could show up at the chapterhouse at dawn, and Sir Robert would believe her story. If Sydney had confessed to him, she would have sent word.
Unless Sir Robert had thrown her in prison.
Camille picked up the crystal ball. She’d asked Sydney how she could help, and lying seemed like an easy way to do so, even if it pissed Sydney off. “How did I get so mixed up in this?” she said.
“You tell me,” the ball replied.
Camille yelped and tossed it. It thumped on the carpet. Camille’s heart pounded, and she drew her legs up in case the ball decided to grab her.
“Bugger,” the ball said. “Could you give us some warning before you do that? For the love of magic, seeing the room spin gives me a headache.”
Camille slid from the bed and scooted close. Inside the ball, mist swirled, barely revealing a shadowy, dark-haired form with bright green eyes. Camille started to ask who it was, then reminded herself that she was actually an intelligent person. “Hawk,” she said softly. “How long have you been listening to me?”
“Long enough to hear you and your girlfriend planning a coup and then arguing and smooching. After that, I mostly heard rattling and things moving around in bags and such. Are you really a camp follower?”
Camille’s questions blew away on a wave of irritation. “I am a master researcher, thank you very much.”
“Just teasing, love.” The Hawk chuckled. “I guessed your profession already.” She held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll go along with your plan. It doesn’t matter to me, and I hate to see a fellow book lover in trouble, even if she does have terrible taste in women.”
Camille’s ears burned, and she didn’t even know where to begin with her rebuttal. For some reason, “She’s not my girlfriend,” popped out of her mouth.
The Hawk stayed silent just long enough for Camille to want to start babbling explanations, then the Hawk said, “Forgive my assumption. All the kissing sounds threw me off.”
“We’re…close,” Camille said, “but not…that close. Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone.”
“Well, I beg pardon. I was just as curious as you are as to why you’re going to such trouble for your not-girlfriend whom you kiss because you’re so close.”
Camille took several deep breaths. Sydney had told her that the Hawk was exasperating. She hadn’t expected to encounter it so quickly. “I’d like to point out that you’re going to a lot of trouble, too, and you’re not even getting one kiss.”
The Hawk grinned, a flash of white teeth in the fog. “Too true. I guess we can both say we do what we do for the good of Arnvild.”
Camille smiled back. If Sydney overthrew Sir Robert, that would be good for Arnvild, after all.
If the order survived the Kells.
“I’m worried about the knights,” Camille said. “And everyone else if the Kells break through.”
The Hawk nodded. “We’re all worried, except for Sir Robert, of course, who only wants help moving his troops and wouldn’t deign to ask my help for the fight.”
“Maybe he couldn’t stretch his warped principles that far,” Camille said with a snort.
“Well, he’s gonna have to warp them because I’m helping whether he likes it or not. Innocent people won’t be shielded by his principles, no matter how widely he swings them around.”
Camille laughed, liking the conviction in the Hawk’s voice as well as her words, never mind the bitterness and sarcasm. “Why did you speak to me just now? Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to run down Sir Robert all day, but now that I know you can listen whenever you like, I’m going to hide this ball. You had to know I’d do that; you could have kept eavesdropping.”
The Hawk shifted. “Well…you sounded sad, so I thought…”
Camille blinked, surprised and strangely pleased, but the ball went dark before she could respond. She set it down with a smile, then grabbed a blanket, rolled the ball inside, stuffed that in her pack, then chucked the whole thing under the bed.
* * *
Rowena sat back from her crystal ball and frowned. Of all the aggravating people she’d been forced to speak to recently, for some reason, Camille was the worst. The question was, why?
