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“A common misconception,” Mercury said, laughing. “I leave whenever I wish. I am just rarely seen.”
Erida forced a cold laugh of her own, all performance. “I can imagine.”
To her surprise, the Amhara sank to a knee, his back to Taristan. As if her husband posed no threat at all. It incensed him, his nostrils flaring.
Mercury dipped his head.
“I come to offer my apologies. My guild has failed to fulfill your contract, which you so generously gave.” He shifted, his cloak opening enough to show the brace of daggers at each hip. They glowed bronze, filled with candlelight. “We Amhara are not accustomed to such shame.”
Erida could not help but think about the mountain of gold she’d sent into the desert, paid for the life of one stupid girl. Her cheeks burned.
“Corayne an-Amarat is harder to kill than any of us suspected,” she muttered.
“Indeed.” Mercury stood again. “I lost a dozen of my own in the attempt.”
Good, Erida snapped in her mind. It was only fitting his failure cost him something too.
“Sorasa Sarn.” She turned the words over as she would an intriguingbook. Again, the tiger-eyed assassin flashed in her mind, little more than a shadow, her smile a sharpened knife. “So that is her name. Gone rogue, has she?”
“Exiled,” Mercury offered. “Once I thought it the worst punishment for her. Death would have been a reprieve to abandonment.”
His almost cheerful manner did not disappear, but his gaze sharpened, his eyes dangerous and angry, mismatched from the rest of his face. Though Erida carried a demon inside her, she could not help but shudder.
“I promise to remedy that error, Your Majesty,” he said, in a low voice to quake the room.
Behind him, Taristan retrieved his sword and sheathed it home. Mercury ignored him. Old man though he was, Erida saw the hard lines of muscle in his wrists and neck, and the calluses on his fingers. She wagered he was one of the most dangerous mortals in the realm.
“Have you come to return my payment, my lord?” she asked, angling her head.
His smile returned in full force, showing a mouth of too many teeth. “I think you’ll find my gift far more valuable than gold.”
With a wave, he gestured back out into the night.
Side by side, Erida and Taristan followed, letting Mercury lead them outside into the square. Only for Erida’s jaw to drop, a gasp escaping her lips as Taristan drew her close. He pulled her in, shielding her with the bulk of his body.
In the center of the camp square, firelight played against golden armor. Every single knight of the Lionguard kneeled in the dirt, Amharas at their backs, and knives at their throats. Two more assassins stood to the side, something huddled between them.
“Do not fear for your knights, Your Majesty,” Mercury said, waving a hand. As if that could dismiss Erida’s shock or Taristan’s concern.
“Lord Mercury—” Erida began, until a shout cut her off.
At the edge of the circle of tents, torches flickered and swords rang, drawn from sheaths. Boots thumped against the ground, guards yelling to each other. Lord Thornwall was loudest of all, sprinting in his nightshirt, skinny legs bared to the firelight. His red face appeared at the edge of the torch ring, a sword in hand, a contingent of soldiers on his heels.
“Wait!” Erida shouted, raising a hand to stop Thornwall before he could plunge into a viper’s nest of assassins.
Red-faced, her commander stopped short, his men with him.
“Your Majesty,” he panted, eyes wide with fear.
“Wait,” Erida said again, softer, but filled with command. “Very well, Lord Mercury. Show me your gift, then.”
The Amhara lord did not hesitate.
“Bring him forth,” Mercury said, flicking a hand.
Two of his assassins moved, shoving the huddled shape between them.
Him.
