Agent of the Crown
Read Agent of the Crown Online
Authors: Melissa McShane
Tags: #espionage, #princess, #fantasy romance, #fantasy adventure, #spy, #strong female protagonist, #new adult, #magic abilities
Melissa McShane
Published by Night Harbor
Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2016 Melissa
McShane
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Telaine raced
through the streets of Aurilien, turning the familiar streets with
their tall, elegant mansions into blurs of gray stone and bright
glass. Her speeding carriage hit a bump, nearly tossing her off her
seat onto the cobbles flying beneath her. She screamed, and hoped
the fleeing bystanders would mistake her terror for exhilaration.
She gripped the reins of the horses drawing the high-seated
two-wheeled carriage, her hands white-knuckled under her gloves,
and prayed it wouldn’t become a one-wheeler as the horses took the
next sharp corner at speed. More pedestrians scattered, shouting
things she was happier not understanding.
Broad Street wasn’t busy at this time of day,
but what traffic there was dodged quickly out of her way. Everyone
knew her shining rose-lacquered carriage with its perfectly matched
bays; that was the point, that everyone know who she was when she
careened through Aurilien. She wished she’d thought of some way to
make herself conspicuous that was less likely to leave her a bag of
broken bones in the wreckage of the awful pink carriage.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the plate
glass window of one of Broad Street’s exclusive clothiers, her hair
flying—when had she lost her hat?—like a flag behind her, and she
smiled despite the terror she told herself was excitement. Yes, the
Princess would be remembered for this day. She gritted her teeth,
snapped the reins, and the horses responded with a burst of speed
she hadn’t thought they had in them.
Within the carriage, her maid Posy let out a
squeak Telaine could hear over the noise of the rattling wheels.
Telaine sent her a silent apology, though Posy had known what kind
of ride she was in for the moment Telaine took the reins. No one
ever appreciated just how good a driver you had to be to look this
bad.
They flashed past the Park, men in dark suits
and women in bright dresses mere splashes of color as they went in
and out of its gates. Ahead, Telaine could see the vast hulking
sprawl of the palace, which looked as if it had grown there on its
hill instead of being built. Willow North’s tower thrust its dark
gray finger high above the roofs, as if in defiance of ungoverned
heaven.
Then the horses were through the never-closed
iron gate with its delicate black filigree and charging up the
drive. With Telaine hauling hard and desperate on the reins, they
slid on the cobblestones until they came to a stop at the black
granite steps leading to the palace’s front door. The carriage
slewed a bit, tilted, and hit the drive with a bounce. Telaine
concealed her relief under a sunny mask, all smiles, and took the
hand of the footman in North blue and silver who approached her.
“Welcome home, your Highness,” he said, as calmly as if four
thousand pounds of horse and carriage hadn’t just come barreling up
the drive toward him like an equine thunderstorm.
“It’s good to be home, Walter,” she said,
stepping down from the carriage and bestowing another smile on him.
“Will you see to the horses? And Posy—” Telaine turned to look at
the woman staggering out of the carriage and silently apologized
again. “Please take my bags to my room? I have urgent business
inside.” That, at least, was the unvarnished truth.
She ran as quickly as she could through the
mazelike halls of the palace, hobbled by her narrow pink skirt and
high-heeled pink shoes, acknowledging everyone who greeted her with
an airy, featherbrained laugh but not stopping to chat. In the Long
Gallery, filled with portraits of the Kings and Queens of
Tremontane, she paused to make her usual curtsey to the youthful
image of Queen Zara North. Her great-aunt, dead at an assassin’s
hand nearly fifty years ago now, stared back at her down her
straight, imperious nose.
The north wing was all heavy oak paneling
inset with ebony, ponderous and serious. Combined with the
narrowness of the halls, it seemed oppressive, as if it knew how
important it was and made sure everyone else did too. Telaine had
to step out of the way of men and women hurrying on errands who
didn’t pay any attention to her. Outside the palace, she was a
well-known, popular figure. Here in the palace she was just Telaine
North Hunter, another one of the North clan. She wasn’t even a very
important one at that, daughter of the King’s long-deceased younger
sister.
She dodged functionaries, passed the curved
marble-topped reception desk with a nod for the King’s appointments
secretary, and rapped at a door identical to all the others,
ignoring the secretary’s protest. At a muffled command from within,
she opened the door and slipped inside.
The room had looked the same her entire life:
thick gray carpeting, walls painted a pale cream color and hung
with paintings depicting great moments in Tremontanan history,
cupboards and bookshelves bulging with tattered tomes and unbound
sheets of paper. Two of the windows, both taller than she was,
looked out on the massive northern wall surrounding the palace,
while a third showed the lower curve of the palace wall whose sheer
granite blocks were interrupted only by Ansom’s Gate. It looked
impregnable in its stark simplicity, secure and cluttered and
welcoming.
Telaine leaned against the door for a moment
and let the tension drain out of her. There were only two places in
the world where she could drop her madcap, frivolous guise, and
this was one of them. She straightened her spine and crossed the
room to stand in front of an enormous, highly polished oak desk
with legs carved like lion’s feet and a top piled high with
paperwork.
A man with graying black hair and a short
beard wrote something on a sheet of paper before him; the nib made
a scratching sound as it crossed the page. A Device emitting a
steady white light hovered over his left shoulder. The man turned
the Device off and looked up. “Well?” he said.
Telaine clasped her hands behind her back.
“You were right about Terence d’Arden,” she said. “He’s thrown in
his lot with the Sudenvilles. Unfortunately, so has Lady
Brightwell. She’s been dealing privately with Susan Armsworthy,
pretending to be an ally, but she intends to cast her vote for the
other side at the last minute. Armsworthy has been foolishly
listening to Brightwell about who’s supposedly on their side and
hasn’t done any recruiting on her own. She’s going to be
unpleasantly surprised.”
“Good work. I take it cutting your visit
short didn’t hurt your investigation?”
“I got all of that information by the fourth
day. I was so sick of being the socialite and hearing people lie to
me and pretending to enjoy myself that I considered coming down
with some putrid infection just to get away. I think I gave
Elizabeth d’Arden the impression that someone I know is dying.”
The man laughed. He stood up, came around the
desk, and embraced her. “Welcome home, Telaine.”
She hugged him back. “It’s good to be home,
Uncle Jeffrey.”
The King of Tremontane gave her one more
squeeze, then released her and examined her face. “You look
troubled. Overwhelmed by your talent?”
Telaine shook her head. Her uncle was one of
the few people who knew she had the magical ability to hear lies
when they were spoken to her. Having inherent magic might not mean
death anymore, but the memory of the Ascendants who’d once
dominated the kingdom with their magical powers hadn’t faded.
Ungoverned heaven alone knew what the citizens of Tremontane might
do if they discovered their royal family was tainted by it.
“Just tired. Ready for a rest. I want to
spend time with Julia, because…are the rumors true, then? About
Lucas?”
Uncle Jeffrey nodded. He looked grim. “He has
a mistress in the city. I find it hard to believe he would dare
treat his wife—treat the heir to the Crown, for heaven’s sake—with
such disrespect, but then he always was a bit of a bastard. I
should never have allowed the match.”
“Where is he now? In hiding?”
Uncle Jeffrey let out a short laugh. “He
thinks he is. He’s still sworn and sealed to the North family, so I
know exactly where he’s gone to ground.” His eyes went unfocused
briefly as he used his own magic to locate Lucas. “In Lower Town,
right now. Probably drinking Julia’s money away.”
“I don’t suppose we can arrange a nice
accident for him?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Imogen wants him
drawn and quartered. I think she even has the horses picked out.
No, I’m afraid it will have to be divorce and dissolution. I wish I
could spare Julia all that, especially during her pregnancy, but
there’s nothing for it but to weather it out.”
“I’ll do what I can. I can’t bear to think of
her suffering.”
Uncle Jeffrey turned away. “I’m afraid you
won’t be here.”
Telaine’s heart sank. “I’ve been the Princess
for three months without a rest.”
“I know. I have bad news from the Riverlands.
Good news too, but mostly bad. I’ve gotten word that Harroden is
smuggling to the Veriboldan rebels.”
Harrison Chadwick, Count of Harroden. Marshal
of the Riverlands and responsible for the border crossing where the
Snow River entered Eskandel, their southern neighbor, as well as
keeping the peace along the western border with Veribold.
Tremontane’s relations with Eskandel were cordial. They were not so
friendly with Veribold. Telaine tried to remember the Count, but
came up only with a sagging, aging figure and a face that had once
been handsome. “I can see how that’s good and bad news,” Telaine
said, but Uncle Jeffrey was shaking his head.