THE SABLE SPY | TWENTY

"WELL?" TYLER WAS demanding when Cass headed down the stairs for dinner. Cadieux stood at the door, taking off his coat. Behind him were Sterling and Io, looking thoroughly exhausted but unharmed. Both of them were, in fact, grinning. It was always strange when two agents came back from a mission smiling from ear to ear.

Cadieux glared at him. "Well what?"

"Did you ask her?"

That was Luke, who emerged from the hallway, smiling like a fool. Marcus was besides him, leaning against the wall, looking very bored, though one could still spot the humour in his eyes if you looked closer. Something in Cadieux's mind finally snapped, and he released a grunt as he realised what they meant.

"This," she declared with a laugh, "is the problem of living with spies. You can never have any privacy. I believe you were spotted heading out, sir. They've been speculating for hours."

"Growing careless with age?" Tyler asked innocently, laughing when Cadieux reached out to cuff him on the head.

Cadieux didn't bother indulging him in a proper response, instead cocking his head to face the two younglings behind him. "Miss Mi, Sterling, you two prepare your reports. The rest of you... the library in five."

You did not argue with Phillippe Cadieux when he was in this mood, even if one was starving and dinner was almost done. From the way he easily dismissed Sterling and Io, Cass deduced that whatever he wished to say had nothing to do with Ciri and Laurence's situation. They were at a standstill, anyways. He had something else for them, because at the end of the day they were still Arecian agents, though her case was arguable.

She wondered what it was. He was out for a longer period of time than necessary to buy a simple engagement ring. He most likely had picked up the first band he saw, and should have been back hours ago. No taste in fashion, their Cadieux.

All of them knew this, from the way the humour and amusement drained out of their faces within seconds. This was business. Whatever had kept him out, it had done so for many, many hours. No one uttered a word or showed a sign of defiance as Cass twirled back upstairs to head to the library. Steady steps trailed her. She flung open the doors of the library, breathing in the smell of old books. She pulled open the curtains as well.

"Georgie is going to have a fit." Tyler was the first to arrive after her, casting a large shadow into the half-lit room. Bartholomew Tyler had always been big, even when he was younger. Both of his parents had been Lohian immigrants who had lived through discrimination, prejudice and poverty with nothing but pure will and hard work. He slumped into a chair by the dormant fireplace.

"I never got the chance to congratulate you on your marriage." Cass smiled, and it was pleasant. "I believe I had foreseen it eight years ago, the moment you realised Georgie had breasts."

"I remember you teasing me about it." Tyler groaned. He was around Luke's age, perhaps a year or two younger. Even a blindman could spot his infatuation with the beautiful Georgiana at an early age. "But at least now I can return the favour."

She glared. Luke took the moment to enter. "I don't suppose either of you know why Cadieux has summoned us here?" He demanded, rubbing his stomach. "Does the man not understand the concept of hunger?"

"Villains will not wait just because your stomach is empty," Cass retorted, sliding her hand over her gown to smooth it before settling in the small armchair in front of a table. "You shall endure. Where's Marcus?"

There was the slight glint of mischief showing in Tyler's eyes, obviously seeking revenge for prior comment. She cut him off with a glare before he could open his mouth. Luke shrugged. "Vanished into the kitchen. Maybe he's going to stuff his entire dinner down his mouth within the five minutes."

"Unlikely, Fitzwilliam," Marcus shot from the door, walking in while holding a basket of garlic bread. "Me, being the only intellectual among this group, went to pick up the garlic bread Georgie always prepares while we wait for Cadieux to explain. Don't eat too much."

Tyler practically pounced up from his seat on the couch of the library to grab the food. Cass rolled her eyes, mouthing, "Pig."

But that just reminded her of Laurence. Laurence should be here. She missed him. She'd get him and her sister out of their prison soon. Whatever uncertainty she seemed to have earlier that day had vanished. Maybe it was the conversation with Marcus, how he had been so sure. Marcus was no naive optimist. He was her childhood friend, yes, but he was also a skilled agent of the crown who had been in dangerous places and dangerous situations.

"We'll be here for a while," Cadieux's voice boomed. "So that was a wise choice, Dalton."

He strolled, slowly, into the centre of the room, walking towards one of the tables. Marcus placed the basket of bread on it, and then the four of them waited patiently for an explanation. Cass had always thought that Cadieux could have had a life on the stage if he wished to. She had told him that, once, and he pointed out that Arecian prejudice would ensure he only got minor roles as villains or thugs. The theatre was still extraordinarily prejudiced towards foreigners. Never mind that Cadieux had practically spent his entire life in Arecia or Epimur, and that his father had been a minor aristocrat. His mother's Joskum bloodline ensured that he was an outsider, so long as his skin was darker. Cass, who had faced her fair share of discrimination due to being foreign, conceded the point.

"We've known there was a mole in the government for a while. Foreign relations, we've managed to pin down." Cass did not know that, but the others did, so she stayed quiet. Once, she would have been in the thick of this room. Now, she felt like an outsider. "We got the name of one of his contacts, and need him in for questioning, discreetly."

"And the name?" Marcus asked, biting off a piece of bread. Foreign relations was his father's department.

"Norman Hightower."

Luke blinked, nonplussed. "The painter? Don't tell me he's been smuggling information out to the Meliqueans through paintings." Catching a glimpse of Cadieux's expression, his own darkened. "That's a pickle. And I see the issue. Hightower made headlines a few months ago for hiring top-notch security for his studio, where he also lives. Skilled mercenaries. So we bring him in quietly for a bit of interrogation?"

Cass started, "And why am I being involved in this?"

Cadieux regarded her with an arched brow. "You'd be interested to know that this mole is most likely one of many in a massive network of spies for Contreras." Anthony Contreras was the Head of the Meliquean Secret Police.

Cass's eyes narrowed. "That network."

Cadieux gave her a brisk nod. He knew what he was dangling in front of her. If she could figure out the mole in the Saian Bone Court, not only could she aid her country, but she could further convince the royal family of their loyalty and usefulness. They'd be back in Sai by the end of the bloody month.

Tyler cleared his throat. "When do you want him here?"

"Not tonight," Cadieux said. "No time. Preferably within the next three days. Security will be tight, and I think he's expecting it. Remember: the important thing is silence. If we make too big of a wave, or even the slightest ripple, our mole bolts." And perhaps that was where she came in. Marcus had never been involved in the trade of assassins. The taking of a life was not one of his particular talents. Tyler was unsuited for the role, preferring to operate under broad daylight. Besides, he was a husband and soon to be a father. Luke had assassinated before, but he could never match her in subtlety and sneakiness.

In a world of brutes, monsters and heartless beasts, she had been chosen to be the sharpened blade. Three in Eirao, another three in Novokuluga, and eight more in Melique. It still haunted her when she shut her eyes in the dead of the night.

Except this was not an assassin's job, was it not? Sneak in, sneak out with as little attention as possible. It was the work of a thief.

Cass relaxed slightly. "Two days, maybe. We will watch his place tonight and tomorrow. And strike tomorrow night."

Cadieux murmured, a gentle reminder, "The difficulty of this mission is making his disappearance seem unsuspicious."

"A sudden trip to relatives in the countryside," Luke suggested. "If you can find his handwriting, Georgie can forge it." One of the girl's more peculiar talents.

Cadieux shook his head. "Nothing on me right now, but I can ask. If necessary, we'll forge the damned letter from the nonexistent relative instead."

Marcus spoke. "My father has a Norman Hightower painting. A portrait he commissioned of my mother a few years ago. He might still have their correspondence." That was how popular Hightower was. The Marquess of Rochesdale had commissioned a portrait of his own beloved wife from him. That he was a traitor for the Meliqueans...

"Do we know why he's working for the enemy?" Cass asked, tilting her head ever so slightly.

"Hightower likes to live on the edge. Gambling, whoring, indulging in a large amount of spirits. He's spending more money than he could earn. Most probably the mole promised him money if he smuggled messages out."

"Not the mastermind, then. Does he even know what exactly he's smuggling?"

"That, my cunning little protege, is exactly what we're trying to discover." Cadieux rubbed his hands together, half-sitting on the table.

Tyler frowned. "Even if the mole bolts, we can just keep an eye on all the officials to see who ran. If possible, intercept them. Silence is preferred but not absolutely necessary to discern the identity of our mole.

"We won't get to interrogate him," Cass reminded softly.

Marcus snorted. "Torture, you mean."

There had been few cases where they actually had to take out the torture instruments. They were not barbarians and brutes. But what came before, what caused them to break first, the interrogation, perhaps that was all just another form of it. Careful intimidation, manipulation, traps of words waiting for people to fall into.

"Interrogation," Cadieux corrected. Marcus rolled his eyes. He may complain, but they all knew it was necessary. And the enemy would do far worse. Some of their own would do far worse. What they did in comparison was merciful.

There was a knock on the library door, and Sterling walked in with a stack of paper. Their report. Cass didn't allow herself to move as Cadieux walked over to intercept it, but managed to spy little Iolanthe waiting outside the door.

Cadieux looked up. "Tell the girl she could either eat here or go back now."

Sterling tilted his head in a nod and turned to leave. There was soft murmuring outside the library, fading as they moved away.

"Well?" Cass demanded, impatient.

"Military-grade lock. He's hiding something in there. Whether or not it's two hostages is questionable, but likely. They say they heard nothing inside, but it might just be soundproof, or they're deep enough that sound doesn't carry. And Io got an earful from the men sitting near it for snooping around the trapdoor."

"The guards we saw," Luke confirmed. "They have to be in there."

"Unless the Ivory Rats just snatched the bloody crown jewels, yes. But this suggests that there's guards there twenty-four seven. We won't be able to get in without hurting someone badly."

"Continue watching for patterns in guard rotation," Marcus suggested. "Can we pick the lock?"

Cadieux gave him a dirty look. "Of course we bloody can. Might take a while, though. Take Benjamin with you, probably. He's the best with locks." You could take the boy out of the slums, but never the slums out of the boy. Benjamin was a perfect example of that.

"Sinclair's going to be bloody ecstatic," Luke snorted.

"He's going by Sinclair again?"

Benjamin didn't know who his parents were. Most likely, he was the bastard son of one of the prostitutes, so he didn't have a last name. They had told him to pick something for himself. He kept bouncing between a few different ones.

"Sticking with it this time, I think," Tyler answered.

Cadieux ignored this pointless conversation, continuing, "I'll send Sterling and Jackson back out tomorrow. Cordland is taking over for the night." Rick Cordland had suffered a major injury to his leg that made him useless in most field missions, but he was more than capable of watching and observing from a distance. "Parrish will watch Hightower, unless one of you wants to volunteer."

Helena Parrish was one of the few other female agents in Arecian service. A formidable woman, but they were too different in age to truly be friends.

Luke said, "I'll go with her. Just to take a look."

"Perfect. You're all dismissed. Go down for dinner before Georgie skins you all alive."

✴

AFTER DINNER, STERLING escorted Io back to Lady Kuroki's, the two now bound by the hip. Cass retired to the library until Sterling would return with the carriage so that they could head to the townhouse. Georgie joined her, humming a quiet song as she strolled around the library, organising the shelves.

"What are you naming the baby?"

"Alayah, after my mother, if it's a girl. Frederick if it's a boy. After... you know."

Frederick Harolds had been an agent who tragically lost his life around two years ago. They had all been close friends. Fred had been the life of every party, energetic and endlessly happy. Everyone loved him.

"He'd like that very much." Cass flashed her a small smile.

She returned it. "I know."

Pregnancy was getting along with Georgiana so far. The girl was practically growing, and she didn't seem to be in that much pain. But Georgie's face was still pinched. "The house is going to be a mess soon."

Cass snorted. "Let the men take care of themselves for once. You deserve a break. As much as pregnancy, giving birth and then having to raise that child is considered a break. At least Tyler will be around to help."

Georgie glowed up at the mention of her husband. "I still can't believe it, honestly. Me. A wife. About to be a mother. It feels so surreal. Time passes by so fast."

"It's been ten years since I've first stepped foot here." Cass shut her eyes. "My god."

"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" Georgie always had a beautiful voice, like fairies twittering. The word to describe her was radiant. A radiant personality, a radiant face, a radiant voice. Once upon a time, Cass had harboured a deep envy of her, but she could never truly hate her. Because at the end of the day, Georgie was intelligent and kind. If she wasn't so good, she would have made an excellent spy. That, and if Cadieux would let her.

Georgie had strong protectors, between her uncle, her husband, and almost everyone within this house. Most of them would die for her.

"We were kids, Georgie. Now we're... adults with responsibilities and a life. A big change, I'd say." There was a hint in her voice. "And don't you dare start on the 'you should start settling down too' bullshit with me. I've heard enough."

"I wasn't about to." Georgie slided over to her side, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Unlike some people, I know when to be considerate."

"Wish everyone was more like you," Cass grumbled, laying her head on Georgie's hand, before looking up and meeting the dark-skinned girl's eyes with a grin. "The world would be so much better."

"No doubt about that."

And they just sat there, for a few minutes, staring out of the window, letting the golden glow fall on them, basking them in all the sun's final glory as it prepared to descend and slumber for the night. Finally, Georgie said, "Are you happy?"

Cass blinked. "I thought you said you wouldn't push it." She scowled, glancing back up at her friend. Georgie shook her head in denial.

"I'm not. It's just a question."

Cass let her gaze slip away, returning her attention to the window. Am I happy? Maybe it was one of those questions everyone should know the answer to. Maybe the fact she had to hesitate and think was already an easy no.

How did one know whether they were happy? She had been happy laughing with the boys. She was happy now, talking to Georgie. But after that passed, what did she feel?

She answered, "I don't know."

Georgie gave her a long and hard look before her expression slowly softened. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't need to be happy," she pointed out with a shrug. Georgie's hand slid off her shoulder and onto the couch they were sat on. "I'm fine like this."

"Do you want to be like this?" Georgie raised her arm and spread it, motioning to the room. "Is this what you see your life as?"

This time she didn't hesitate. "This is all my life can be."

Georgie looked at her with a tilted head. "Why?"

Because even though I can guess an opponent's move days before they themselves think of it, I've never been able to look past the next day for myself. Because I live in the moment and refuse to look into the future. Because I'm a survivor, and survivors don't come up with elaborate fantasies of an improbable future when they were fighting and struggling just to survive the night.

Out loud, she just said, "I'm a spy. Our life has no routine. Today I might be in Arecia, but I didn't think I'd be here when I was in Gira last month. A month before that I didn't even think I'd ever go to Gira. I cannot know where I would be in a year, or two years."

Georgie smoothed back Cass's black hair, tucking it behind her ear. "You are in a house full of spies. They all come back. They all have a place they call home. Do you?"

"I have a home in Asayama."

"You hate your relatives. Do you even spend a month a year there?"

"No," she admitted. She owned a small cottage in Kon Ria that she shared with Ciri and another cousin, Bianca, who lived there full time. After Bianca's husband had died early, she hadn't wanted to stay with everyone else in Asayama. But that wasn't a home either. That was Bianca's place, now hers. It was just a resting stop for her when she needed a bit of quiet. But she told Georgie of the cottage anyways.

"Is this cottage your home?"

Cass scowled. "You're pushing it, but being very subtle about it. You'd make a great spy if you wanted to, did you know that?"

"We're your friends," Georgie murmured, her voice soothing. "We want you to be happy. Is it working?"

Cass shook her head. "The opposite, really. I'm getting very annoyed. You could only listen to different versions of the same lecture so many times before you lose your patience. Between you, Marcus, Luke and Cadieux, I think I'm going mad."

"Not Tyler?"

"Your husband has kindly and wisely chosen to keep his opinion to himself."

"We'll have to do something about that." Georgie frowned, and Cass scowled. And then the conversation was forgotten, as the two of them bursted into giggles.

Just like she wanted it to.