Page 22 of The Crimson Throne (Spy and Guardian #1)

Samson

Alyth knows what this necklace means.

Which tells me Cecil was wrong. No way is Alyth a secret Elizabeth sympathizer. Cecil’s carefully protected system of signs and markers got leaked.

I’m cooked.

As I leave the hall after Alyth’s confrontation, my mind rolls back over what she said.

She seemed more concerned about where I’d gotten it than what it stood for, so maybe…

maybe she doesn’t know? If she did, she’d have moved against me in an instant, surely.

All her distrust of the English—if she knew I was wearing a pendant that symbolized allegiance to Elizabeth, she’d be all over me. And not in the way I want.

I dig my knuckle into my temple, fighting a headache.

As if I need more pieces that don’t make sense right now.

If Alyth makes a move against me, I’m on borrowed time. And right now, I’ve got free rein of the castle, more or less.

I was given a room farther up, in a wing away from the royal quarters, and I pretend I’m heading there as I wander the castle, getting the lay of things.

Servants pass, even this late, but no one intercepts me or questions my intentions, and that’s a mighty fine benefit to being known as someone on the up-and-up.

In Southwark, if I’m noticed, it’s to my detriment, and I always gotta have an excuse at the ready.

Here, I can just walk the halls, and as long as I don’t act funny, I’m ignored.

A few wall sconces give off light, but most of the castle is a dark cave, making it easy to “get lost” and feign confusion.

So I keep my face set in an expression of bewilderment as I make my way down halls, up stairs, noting doors, any symbols on them.

Cats dart in and out of the shadows, and other creatures of the night make noises that have me flinching.

Guards stand in front of the royal wing, so I don’t make it back to explore those more, but the rest of the castle comes to clarity in my mind, escape routes and tucked-away recesses.

More public meeting rooms but private areas too, the treasury, which is heavily guarded but might have fae magic locked within.

I need to search Mary’s rooms. But would she be fool enough to keep powerful magic so close to her?

If some of it’s shit like what cursed me and she knows what it is, she’d be smarter to keep it elsewhere.

And this isn’t her only residence, is it?

So who’s to say she’d even have any fae magic items here?

Maybe they’re all in Edinburgh or one of her other estates.

Damn.

I need information. And my best bet of getting that is still Alyth. Possibly Joseph, if Alyth’s set against me from this necklace.

My stomach’s all cramped by the time I make it to my room. The castle’s gone cool and dark in the late hour, and as I let myself in, I release a breath and, with it, my facade.

There’s a fire going in my hearth already, warming my room up nice.

I’ve got a fine bed with a canopy and a table in the corner, my bags already set on a chair near it.

Once the door shuts, I strip off my doublet and shirt and consider dumping the pitcher of water near the washbowl straight over my head so that shock of cold can reset my brain.

But exhaustion and a mild headache overtake me, and all I want is to sleep.

I stare down at my bags of supplies. Should I write to Cecil, update him? I don’t actually give a rat’s arse if he knows what I’m doing, but I still need him to break the curse on me once I find the fae object.

It seemed so possible when I left London. I was so damn hopeful.

But none of this is even close to simple, and Cecil absolutely knew what a mess I’d be coming up into, this war between Mary and Darnley. Did Cecil send me specifically because I’m so English that I’d catch Darnley’s attention?

Anger flares up in me, a sharp, sudden spike.

But it doesn’t go any higher, just roils around in my sternum until I march the length of the room, like pacing will drive my headache away.

The flames blaze brighter in a gust of wind through the chimney, and I brace my hands against the mantle, letting the heat scald my bare chest.

That necklace swings free, casting shadows in the light, and I glare down at it, watching it sway.

Something sharp presses to my lower back.

“Give me that amulet,” comes Alyth’s voice. “Now.”

My pulse lurches, sets a quicker pace. Not out of fear; I’m stretched too thin for that.

Because she’s in my room. At night. And I’m half dressed.

The fact that she’s got a knife on me should dissuade at least some of that, but try telling that to my heart.

Deliberately, I lift my hands from the mantel in surrender and turn to face her. The tip of the blade drags lightly across my back, around my hip, and rests just above the dip of my navel.

The fire hits her full on, throws me in shadows.

But she can see me, I know she can, in that odd way of hers where she’s not seeing me in the physical.

She’s in the same gown from earlier, simple and functional, meant to keep her from being noticed.

That’s everything about her demeanor in public: not wanting to be noticed, not wanting to draw attention.

It works for her somehow, which is the weirdest thing I’ve encountered being here, how this whole bloody court could let this woman pass unseen among them.

She’s so bright, gleaming even when she’s got her mask on, even when she’s holding that knife to my stomach.

There are three cats with her. My eyes go to the door, but it’s shut. I didn’t even hear her creep in. And what’s with the cats? Did they follow her?

I focus back on Alyth. “Didn’t take you for the thieving sort. I’ve not got a lot of value on me.” I bob my head, referring to my shirtless state, and give a coy smirk. “You’ve caught me a bit indecent.”

Her knife bobs slightly, dragging down, falling in the hollow of my belly button. It isn’t until her eyes—those dark eyes—drop, see the knife resting there, that a tidal rush of shivers sets off, peppering goose bumps over my skin.

She quickly fixates on that necklace.

“The amulet,” she repeats. “Now.”

My grin wavers. “Why? What’s it to you?”

Do you know what this is?

I drop my eyes to that dagger in her grip. It doesn’t have the glow about it that fae magic items do, and my shoulders droop with relief. Though feeling grateful I’m being threatened with a regular knife is a bit foolish.

“Give it to me,” she says through her teeth.

I put one hand on the necklace. “My father gave me this. It’s got great sentimental value. You’ve no—”

“I know it’s from Lady Lennox,” she snaps. “I know it’s got something to do with Darnley. And I’m telling you that I will not allow Red Cap magic in my home.”

The cats let out incensed mews. The air fills with the smell of ash and charred wood, and the flames turn scorching at my back, making me hiss and jump a step forward.

It puts me up against her blade again.

Up closer to her.

I stare down at her, pieces starting to circle ’round.

Magic in my home.

How she looks at me, through me, seeing other things. The way she used a magic item in the border town.

“What are you, Alyth?” I whisper.

“Your ruin,” she says, then reaches for the necklace.

I seize her arm. We freeze, my fingers knotted up around her thin wrist, the skin there chilled despite the warmth of the room.

I can feel her pulse thudding as relentlessly as mine, beating hard and fast against my fingertips.

“I’m not working for Darnley,” I tell her. That that’s what she thinks this necklace means alleviates some of my unease—she doesn’t actually know what it is. That’s good.

She scowls at me but doesn’t try to peel out of my grip. “You’re not lying.” She says it like an accusation. “Which means you’re nothing more than a fool who’s being used.”

“’Course I’m not lying!” I use my hold on her wrist to tug her closer.

I need her to know I want nothing to do with that git, the same way I wanted so bad for Hal and Oskar to accept me, only I knew I’d never come close to them understanding me fully.

But Alyth? I don’t know why, but her soul calls out to mine, and I can’t have her believing the worst in me.

Alyth whips the dagger up to my throat.

My chin lifts with it, the blade pressing against a throbbing vein. I stiffen instinctively.

“This amulet,” she starts, still speaking through her teeth, her eyes wide and wild with anger, “is from his mother, and your father gave it to you. Why? You have to have some inkling of his motives.”

I gape down at her, lips parting.

Wait—Lady Lennox is Darnley’s mother? That’s how he recognized it?

But then—is his mother part of Cecil’s spy network? Who the hell even is she?

My eyes shut.

I don’t know sodding all about what’s going on or what I’ve gotten myself wrapped up in, and I’m aching and exhausted, and I’ve got nothing, no idea what to do next.

But I know…I know where Alyth stands. I know where her loyalties lie.

And right now, that’s the only thing I can trust.

I open my eyes and lock hard with her furious gaze, renewing my pressure on her wrist. I raise my free hand to point at the blade she’s still got pressed to my throat.

“I’m a bit insulted you didn’t bring a fae item to threaten me,” I tell her. “What, I’m not worth breaking out the magic?”

My words take a full beat to process in her. I watch her eyes, and I don’t move a muscle, not even to breathe.

Her lips part. A shuddering breath slips out. “You—” She glances all around me again. “How do you know about that? You aren’t fae.” At that declaration, she renews her grip on the dagger and presses hard, throwing my head back. “Tell me why you are here.”

Slow as I can, I lift my hand to my neck. I grab the leather braid and start to lift it off.

She moves her blade back so I can unwind the necklace.