THE SABLE SPY | TWENTY-TWO

  "WE HAVE BEEN HERE for a long while." Today, they had picked a lovely Saian dialect from the northern seaside. Close enough to the duchy of Dai for Ciri to speak it with eloquent ease and all the skills of a native. Laurence's was more rough, but it was understandable, and that was all either of them cared about.

They switched languages every day, careful in case Hua Jueying brought in a translator. They were discussing their escape, after all. Planning it. Every night they took turns sleeping, in case their friends chose that unfortunate hour to break in.

They had not come yet, but Laurence Dumont had faith that they would. Marcus Dalton was his brother in all but blood, and Cass his sister. With Ciri, quite literally. Cadieux would be very annoyed at Laurence and his own stupidity and launch a rescue operation. The agents liked him. He was witty. Charming. Funny. Those three words always came up when someone was asked to describe him. It was getting boring. People needed more creativity.

He redirected his attention at the figure moving around the dark cell. It had been three years since he'd laid eyes on Cirinique Diao. She'd grown up. She'd be eighteen now, turning nineteen. Maybe she already had. Even in the dark, he could make out her exquisite features, and see the easy grace she moved with, even starving and tired and half-beaten.

If she was anyone else, he'd already be panting after her, flirting and filling her ears with superficial words of a shallow lover. But this was Ciri, the girl he'd known since he was thirteen. They worked together in Kon Ria when she was fifteen, navigating the deceptively peaceful court of the King, and he didn't go after colleagues. Especially not ones with protectors who'd castrate him without a second thought, if she didn't do it herself first. She had been escorted by one of her aunts that time, who had been dispatched by the duchess to make the visit seem respectable. The mission was a stunning success— they made an excellent team. But while Cass could be considered an Arecian agent, Ciri was firmly working for the Saians, so their paths crossed only occasionally. Besides, when he returned to Arecia after the mission, his father had died.

She was lovely even then, truly. Her hair had never been silky black like her sister's. A shade of dark ash brown, one of his artist friends had described it as. While Cass's skin was slightly tanned from her time in the field, Ciri's had been kept pale, smooth and beautiful. The two sisters fought different battlefields. The distribution of work had been there since either of them could talk. Their skillset laid in different areas. Their eyes, however, were the same. A lovely, dark chocolate shade. The same nose as well, narrow and slightly turned-up. Oval faces for both of them, with narrow, sharp jaws. Cass was pleasing to the eye, but Ciri was devastatingly beautiful, one of those troublesome women built to bring a man onto his knees.

Cass held herself like a fighter, a survivor. A warrior queen in every sense of the world. Reliable as a rock, always there for you to lean and depend on. Ciri, on the other hand, looked much more frail. She was thinner, more willowy. It was extremely deceptive. Frail was not a word one used to describe the girl known as Cirinique Diao.

"Patience, my little sable," he responded in the same dialect. Her last name, Diao, was the Saian character for sables. That was where they had gotten their nickname. Some people didn't know that. It was sad.

She huffed, the sound echoing through the room. "People who say patience is a virtue has clearly never been captured and locked in a dark room for many days before. They will definitely change their minds if they've spent even a day here."

He was pressed against the wall, sat on the lone blanket in the room. They took turns using it. Ciri paced around the room. It ought to have gotten on his nerves, but it didn't. This was Ciri, after all. One did not get annoyed at Ciri, the same way one did not ever truly get annoyed at him. They both had that charm to them. It was why their missions occurred in foreign courts instead of the scorching battlefields. Perhaps it was a small mercy. He was saved from many horrific sights. He'd been on them before, of course, but rarely. He knew Cass had nightmares. Marcus had them sometimes too. Him? Rarely. He kept his hands clean from the blood of enemies, leaving that to his compatriots. But he wasn't sure about Ciri. She had always been hard to read, even when she was eight, starving, cold, fiercely courageous and stubborn as a rock.

It was part of her allure.

"At least you've kept your humour." He shrugged. His shoulder hurt. They had slashed him there, and he'd barely been given any care for the wound. It wasn't deep, thank god. He'd be fine.

"I never lose it, Dumont. I could be half-dead, lying among corpses in the ground and I'd still be joking around." She sounded disgusted. "Much like you, I suppose?"

He let a lazy grin spread on his face. The kind he used around friends. Ciri was a friend.

She said, "You disgust me sometimes, did you know that?"

"If I had a dime for every time your sister said something along those lines..."

"Okay, shut it. I'm trying to think." Ciri ceased her pacings, and Laurence let himself relax. "They have not come yet, but they will soon. Or perhaps they're plotting something. Maybe there's too many guards and locks for them to plan a frontal assault."

"They'll want to keep this sneaky," Laurence pointed out. "Can't make too much noise, or people will be questioning why the Arecian Secret Service is breaking into the slums. We're trying to keep the news of the man's treasonous activity silent as a gift for you and your sister, you see."

"So considerate of you people," Ciri said. "The duchess would be overjoyed and dismayed."

"It's a present, accept it graciously."

Ciri kicked the wall. He didn't see it, but he heard the sound ricocheting off the stones. It must have hurt, but she didn't even flinch. Further prove she was nothing like what people assumed her to be. "I think I am beginning to go insane."

"How long were you here before I arrived?"

"It's hard to say. Time passes differently when you cannot see the sun's rays. Perhaps a week, though part of it was being jostled on a ship. I had chains then, did you know that?"

He did. When she moved close enough, he could see the bruises on her wrists. He had clamped down the rage he felt every time he saw them. She didn't seem to particularly care, which was fine, because he did. He hated his friends getting hurt, some more than others. Ciri seemed to be one of them.

"I can see," he responded, his voice angrier than he had intended it to. He didn't need to be able to clearly see her to know she had spun around and was now regarding her with an arched brow. Her mannerisms among friends, at least, was the same as Cass.

"Obviously, as you are not blind." She rubbed her wrists. "Can't wait to get out of here. Back home, a prisoner would be treated to a warm room. A nice bed. Decent meals. Instead we get a stone cell that dates back to the Blarkens' and a flimsy blanket that is being torn apart every time we sit on it." She glared at Laurence, who was sitting on it.

"Oops," he managed, and tried his best to stay very still, which, of course, meant he succeeded in doing so. His father had been one of the best agents of his time. Even Cadieux admitted that, and the two men had never truly gotten along. He, as Jack Dumont's son, would live up to the expectations.

Ciri resumed her pacing. "What do you think he has on my cousin?"

They had heard Ned Liu's frantic whisperings once. It might have been two days ago. Maybe three. They've been here for around five days, if he was keeping count properly. He had shared their assumptions and views on Liu's involvement, and Ciri had agreed. Ned, she had said, wasn't a man who did something unless he had no other choice.

"It has to be big for him to dare go against not only you two but also risk the wrath of the duchess."

"An useless answer. Try again."

"We have plenty of time to waste," he pointed out. "An affair with a married woman who has a powerful and angry husband."

"I am disappointed in that woman."

"An illegal business deal that might get him in jail."

"So uncareful." She made a tsk-tsk sound. "I am disappointed. But it is possible. Cass must have told you of our opinion of him."

"Many times, with many creative descriptions. Your sister truly has a way with words, though she claims you're better."

Ciri rolled her eyes and stopped walking a few feet away from the blanket that he was sitting upon. "I hate being captured, have I ever told you that?"

Laurence fought back a grin. "Ciri, darling, I don't think anyone ever enjoys it."

"I knew a man in Asayama who'd get himself arrested for petty theft on purpose for a few good meals and nights in jail. Sometimes the judge takes pity on him and sentences him for longer."

"You were not starving, are you?"

"Hence why I do not like this." Ciri swept her arms wide. "When Cass gets me out of here, I'll wring her neck for not rescuing us sooner. You can take care of everyone else."

"That hardly seems fair."

She shrugged. "Never said it had to be. Were you operating under the assumption that it would?"