Opaque Lies Read online

  Opaque Lies

  Queen’s Blade: Origins Part 2

  A.W. Exley

  Copyright © 2020 by A.W. Exley

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Ribbonwood Press

  Version: 29.04.20

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  For Kerry, who asked. A lot…

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Series by A.W. Exley

  About A. W. Exley

  Prologue

  Shadows lay over shadows, breeding and multiplying as they skittered over surfaces in the gloom. Despite the sun high in the sky, the room dwelt in a semi-permanent state of dusk. Dark wood panelling, heavy brown drapes, and walnut floors covered by deep grey carpets enveloped the room and shunned all but the most tenacious natural light sources.

  The dim interior suited the nature of the room’s inhabitant. Firstly, it obscured his disfigured face and secondly, the dark mirrored his mood. The equerry delivered his news and waited as his master worked himself into a profound rage. Plans were not unfolding as anticipated, and the duke laid the blame squarely at the feet of the messenger.

  His master slammed his fist into the hard wood of the desk. “Tell her she must sign the regency agreement and marry her cousin!”

  Anger exhibited a life of its own as it bounced off the walls of the study and rolled back on to the occupants. One man absorbed it as part of himself, and the other man shied from it like a skittish horse.

  “I cannot, Your Grace.” The equerry ran his tongue nervously over dry lips. He wanted to swallow, but even his saliva had abandoned him and left him with only sandpaper and dust to wet his mouth.

  The temper and machinations of the man behind the desk were legendary. As were the enormous salaries he offered and the quantity of blood money he paid to cover the stains on his highly polished floors. The equerry was the third person to hold his position in just eighteen months. He learned quickly never to ask what happened to predecessors—no one ever retired.

  Silence pressed heavy on his shoulders. Noncompliance with the duke’s desires was tantamount to suicide. It was handing him a loaded pistol and taunting him to just do it.

  “What?” A single syllable was wrapped in the calm before the storm. “She is a seventeen-year-old child. Surely you are not scared of a girl?”

  His chilling voice sliced through the air to rend the unfortunate target, splitting him down the middle into two equally terrified parts. The equerry was glad for the rigid leather of his long boots. It was the only thing stopping him from buckling at the knees.

  He raised his hands in a futile defensive gesture. “She is gone, Your Grace. Her mother has fallen ill, as have several of the household staff. The king is greatly concerned for her health and has removed her until they are sure there is no contagion and Kensington is cleansed.” He hoped his words would placate his master. He could not complete his assignment since the target had vanished; surely that would buy him leeway to manoeuvre.

  Silence tumbled to the floor as the information was digested. Curiosity now held rage in check. The duke grunted. “The girl being removed is a highly unusual development. It opens up opportunities not previously available. Her mother and that parasite Conroy have kept the girl under constant guard.” The duke rapped his knuckles on the desk as he thought. “Go to wherever she is now. She will be vulnerable and alone without her mother hovering at her shoulder. We will never have an easier time persuading her to sign.”

  “Therein lies the problem, Your Grace.” The equerry kept handing the duke bullets and asking him to shoot. “The king has told very few people where he has secreted her. We are not numbered amongst those select few.” The equerry swallowed compulsively, despite his mouth resembling the Sahara. His tongue rasped against the roof of his mouth.

  Rage reached a crescendo as the duke smashed his fists down on the desk. He rose up and reached out, about to wrap a fist around the equerry’s throat. “That chit has stolen what is rightfully mine and she will not escape my reach. Find her! With her out from under her mother’s grasping claws we have no better time to seize her!”

  The duke dropped back into his chair and pulled a clean sheet of paper from a drawer. He wrote in a sweeping hand as he spoke. “We must move swiftly, before the girl’s mother recovers and is back in control. Take this message to Ashmore, and soon all that I seek and deserve will be mine. Then I shall reward my loyal supporters.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” The equerry took the folded sheet, bowed and turned tail. He marched to the door as quickly as his dignity and stiff boots would allow, relieved to survive another audience. He couldn’t fail again. His life depended upon it.

  1

  Saturday, 1st October, Edinburgh, 1836.

  A rich aroma swirled within the coffee cup before it rose to mingle with the surrounding air. Allie inhaled the sweet, heady smell. Turkish coffee first thing in the morning was her drug of choice, and her senses focused on the anticipated fix. The smell, the heat, and the taste all reminded her of her former life in Egypt.

  A wave of homesickness crashed over her as she remembered a life so different to the one she lived now. Then, as she sipped the coffee and glanced around the room, the ache dissipated. She had made new friends worth fighting for and who, in turn, had her back. Her attention fixed on the tall, lean, youth with black hair who stood at the sideboard. She had found something in England that heated her blood more than a high sun over the desert.

  Matisse, the Lithgow family’s quietly efficient major-domo, entered the dining room. “Do forgive the intrusion, Miss Donovan, but you have a visitor.”

  Allie pulled her focus away from sun-warmed thoughts of Jared and toward the door. Who on earth would call on her in Edinburgh, and at such an early hour when the household still at breakfast? Virtually all the people she knew were in the room.

  Matisse read from a small white card in his hands. “A Mr Daniel Le Foy—”

  Allie never heard the rest of Matisse’s sentence. That name sent ice running down her spine and through her limbs. Her fingers turned numb, and the coffee cup she held tumbled from her hands while her world dissolved. The hot liquid spilled over the table, racing in unseen rivulets to point amber fingers at her.

  “No,” she whispered. “It’s too soon. I’m not ready.”

  She stood as panic surged through her torso. Her breath came in shallow gasps within the restriction of her plain, brown leather corset. Allie put one hand to her chest.

  I’m not ready to die.

  “Who is it, Allie?” Eloise called from her seat.

  The words drifted over her as her feet slowly carried her towards the door, drawn by an invisible thread pulled by the man who waited beyond. She was only dimly
aware of the chaos that erupted in her wake.

  Matisse rushed to stem the flow of spilt coffee before it dribbled off the heavy damask tablecloth and damaged the expensive carpets underneath. Her friends spoke up in exclamations or confusion, not understanding what happened. Jared abandoned his plate at the sideboard to rush to her side.

  Death had arrived to collect her. Would he be wearing a long black robe and carry a scythe or be dressed like a fashionable gentleman?

  Allie journeyed through a nightmare world. Her mind left the warm comfort of the dining room and slid into the frigid cold and damp of a Newgate Prison cell. The tiny window high in the slimy stone wall provided only a mere tease of light. The dimness enough to show the movement of shapes under the straw in the dark, but insufficient to reveal the creatures that scuttled back and forth. Her stomach turned at the smell—a festering amalgam of excrement, blood, and fear. The bile rose into her mouth and she coughed, trying to dislodge the odour as it clawed its way down her throat. She shook and rubbed her hands over the gooseflesh on her arms.

  Her mind called out in fear and slammed a door. Unable to cope with events, it left her body alone to meet its fate.

  Duncan crossed to the door with worry tugging at his brow. “What’s going on?”

  “Allie doubled crossed the Noctis to save Zeb and his father.” Jared referred to their recent mission to rescue Lord Lithgow, a military scientist. Duncan’s frown deepened as struggled to connect the dots, until Jared continued, “Le Foy is overlord of the Whisperers and he’s come for a reckoning of our actions.”

  Jared stopped her at the doorway. He reached out and grasped her arm before she stepped over the threshold. “Allie.”

  Tears were hot behind her eyes as she whispered, “I’m not ready.”

  “I’ll not let him take you. I promise.” Jared stepped out into the hall first, with Allie in his shadow.

  Life slipped from her already as she faded away with each slow footstep.

  A well-dressed older man stood in the foyer. He leaned on his cane with a silver topper shaped like a fox’s head. A deep grey overcoat hugged his shoulders and fell to brush against his calves. His dark grey top hat remained on his head. On hearing their footsteps, he glanced up from his contemplation of the patterned floor tiles. Elongated, dagger-like sideburns were a distinctive feature on his carefully composed face. A calculating look gleamed in his blue eyes.

  “Alessandra, how lovely to see you.” Even his voice was carefully modulated.

  Jared kept Allie behind him. “You’ll not take her.”

  Duncan followed his cousin and stood on the other side of him and they shielded Allie with their bodies.

  “No,” Le Foy agreed. His gaze flicked over the two youths to the slim woman they protected. “I’ve come to talk to my daughter, not spirit her away.”

  “You wish to talk to your daughter?” Jared turned to stare at Allie.

  Allie struggled to understand the words being said. Everything was muffled, as though she were submerged under bathwater and they tried to talk to her through the liquid. Mouths moved and sounds came out, but they meant nothing to her.

  “Yes. It is time we had a chat.” Le Foy fixed his attention on her. “Perhaps we could go outside, where it’s quieter?” he suggested.

  The room behind emptied as more anxious faces pressed into the doorway to see past Allie.

  A part of Allie’s brain kicked back into action and booted her soundly for giving up without a fight. Her soul screamed at her to snap out of it and wake up. She rubbed her hands over her face and cleared the memory of Newgate from her mind. Bit by bit, she brought herself back to the present. Events were not unfolding as she had expected.

  “You’ve not come to take me away?” She cautiously asked, her fingers tensed in the soft cotton fabric of Jared’s shirt sleeve.

  “No. You have my word.” Le Foy cradled the fox’s snout in his palm. The ornately carved silver object was the only sign of excess about his outfit.

  “And you’ll not have anyone else take me away?” Her father was overlord of the Whisperers, the spy guild. He’d never manhandle her out the door himself, but probably had a trio of burly henchmen waiting nearby. Allie wanted to make sure she read all the fine print of this agreement before going outside with him.

  A brief smile flicked over his face as though he had read her thoughts. “No.” He held out his arm in invitation.

  Jared tightened his grip on her.

  She turned to face him. “It’s all right. We’ll only be outside in the garden, and I promise I’ll not go anywhere.”

  The time had come for her to account for her actions. If she gathered her wits about her, she may yet find an escape clause. She gave Jared a faint smile and reached up to brush a kiss over his lips.

  He released his grip and let her slide out of his grasp, like a boat slipping from a safe harbour into deeper water. Allie drifted to her father’s side, placed her hand on his elbow, and they headed down the corridor and through the formal reception lounge. Allie flung open the double French doors as they strolled over the terrace and down to the lawn.

  The morning dew still clung to the grass, catching at the hem of her skirt as they walked. Her brain frantically tried to determine why her father had appeared. Estranged for most of her life, Allie had only recently established contact with him, and he had promptly threatened her life and those of her friends. “You got my message?”

  “Yes. You left quite a hole in the Reaper empire, literally and figuratively. Gregor was their top acquirer. I understand they had a number of items for clients stored on his airship, which went up in the fireball the rocket let loose.” The cane tapped in rhythm with his steps.

  “I discharged my debt to you when I delivered Zeb as instructed. We weren’t to know the weapon was still experimental and unstable. We were lucky to escape with our lives.” The King’s Royal Aeronautical Corp and Jared had been instrumental in rescuing Lord Lithgow from the Reaper stronghold. With the Reaper agents all dead, there was no one to bear witness to Allie’s betrayal.

  “Rather odd that not a single Reaper agent survived. Yet you, the lad, and his father managed to endure where they all perished.” The corner of her father’s mouth twitched. Allie wondered how much he suspected. “But yes, your debt is discharged.”

  She exhaled, unaware she had been holding her breath until she heard those four little words: your debt is discharged.

  “You’ll not send me back to Newgate?” She needed confirmation from his tongue that her father wouldn’t push her back on the path to the gallows.

  “No.” He continued to regard her in the pale morning sunlight, lost in his own thoughts. When he spoke next, he didn’t seem to be addressing her but an unseen person. “There is so much of your mother in you. She was fascinated by how the application of pressure to the ordinary piece of coal transforms it into the stunning diamond.”

  Did that mean if she had looked less like her mother, he would have found it easier to dispose of his only child? Then she frowned. The last bit he said didn’t make any sense. “What does this have to do with coal and diamonds?”

  When he turned to her, his face was a cool mask with no hint of emotion behind his eyes. “I have learned more about you in these past few weeks than I would have from several years of family dinners. We show who we really are when we have to make difficult choices.”

  Cogs turned and realisation activated within her. “You did this on purpose? You told me that unless I delivered my friend to the Reapers you would send me to the gallows, just to see how I would react?”

  He gave an elegant shrug. “I threw you a challenge; it was up to you what you made of it. You could have simply refused. Instead you managed to rescue your friend’s father and destroy a Reaper stronghold.” He dismissed his own actions and walked closer to the river that flowed at the bottom of the garden. “How do we continue now? What sort of relationship shall we have?”

  “A cautious one.” All
ie regarded her father coldly. He had rescued her from the gallows when she was thirteen. More recently he threatened to return her to be hanged, not an auspicious start to their renewed relationship. Though he would argue he never uttered those exact words. He had made his statement ambiguous enough and left it to her mind, and fear, to interpret his meaning.

  Still, she needed him. His money and position in the Noctis could aid her immediate plans. The challenge he had thrown her had sparked in her mind. If she left the Noctis, she would have a low station in life that limited her future options. She had no intention of becoming a governess or seamstress to make ends meet. Allie had unique talents and she would use them.

  “As you point out, you are my father. I intend to use that relationship as you used me.” She clasped her hands at her waist to keep herself from fidgeting.

  He huffed. “It would appear my blood does run in your veins, after all. Carry on, what would you demand from me?”

  Could it be this easy—ask, and he would provide? She would never know unless she voiced her needs. “Firstly, while I have my place at St Matthew’s courtesy of Poppa’s position as custodian, I have expenses beyond the basics that he, and the school, supply.”

  Le Foy inclined his head. “Very well, I shall provide you with an allowance for your discretionary spending. And the other thing you require?”

  Allie turned to stare at the water flowing past and a brave duck riding the bumpy eddies downstream. The Lithgows had a beautiful spot for their home and she was loath to leave it. Could she have such a haven one day, a place where she was loved and safe? She drew in a peaceful breath before meeting her father’s gaze. “I need an introduction to the Consortium.”