Retribution Falls - Chris Wooding [67]
“Amalicia, there’s no doubt. I spoke to a—”
“No, no, I mean … We’re landowners, Darian. We make our money from tenants. There’s no reason to murder the son of the Archduke.” She sat up suddenly, her face taut with certainty. “I know him, Darian, he wouldn’t come up with something like this. Someone else is behind it.”
“You think there’s someone else?”
“I’d bet on it.”
“Well … who?”
“That I don’t know. I’ve been away a long time, in case you’d forgotten. It’s hard to keep up with my father’s business dealings when I’ve been locked in this prison for two years.”
Her tone grew harsher as she spoke, and Frey—fearing another beating—placated her hurriedly. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll look into it. I just have to find a way to get close to him.”
“Well, there’s the Winter Ball coming up,” she suggested.
“The Winter Ball?”
“You know! The ball! The one my father has every year at our estate on the Feldspar Islands.”
“Oh, the ball!” Frey said, though he’d no idea what she was talking about. Presumably they’d discussed it, although he was reasonably sure he’d never been to one.
“My father always does business there. All the important people come to it. If someone put him up to this whole business of murder, I’m sure you’d find them there. And you’d be well hidden among all the people. It’s quite the event of the season, you know!”
“Can you get me in?”
She jumped up and went to the writing desk, drew out a pen and paper, and began to scribble. Frey lay on his side, idly studying the curve of her back, the bumps of her spine.
“There are still people in the family who don’t agree with what father did. This is a letter of introduction. You can take it to my second cousin—he’ll do the rest.”
“I need two invitations.”
Her shoulders tensed and she stopped writing.
“Neither is for me,” he assured her. “I won’t be going. Don’t fancy meeting your father again. And you know I’m not very well trained in etiquette. But I do have a friend who is. I’ll need his help.”
“And the other?”
“Well, you have to take a lady to these things, don’t you? Turning up without a date looks a bit odd.”
“And I suppose you happen to know one?”
“She’s my navigator, Amalicia,” said Frey. He leaned over and kissed her between the shoulder blades. “Just my navigator. And it won’t be me who’s taking her.”
“Alright,” she said. “Two invitations.” She resumed writing, then signed with a flourish and laid the letter on top of his piled-up clothes.
Frey began getting to his feet. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Frey looked toward the door of the attic. “Well, I’m technically not supposed to be here, so I should really be gone before everyone wakes up.”
Amalicia pulled him back down again. “It’s not even close to dawn,” she said. “I’ve had nobody to lie with for two years, Darian. We still have some catching up to do.”
Chapter Sixteen
A TRIUMPHANT RETURN—FREY TAKES ON NEW CREW—SILO’S WARNING
t was midday by the time Frey made it back to the grassy valley where the Ketty Jay waited. There was a cold breeze, but the sun warmed the skin pleasantly, and most of the crew was outside. Harkins was tinkering with the Firecrow; Jez was reading a book she’d picked up in Aulenfay; Malvery was lying on his back, basking. Silo was nowhere to be seen. Frey presumed he was inside, engaged in one of his endless attempts to modify and improve the Ketty Jay’s engine.
Frey strolled into their midst, whistling merrily. Pinn—who was lying propped up against the wheel strut of his Skylance—lifted the wet towel off his forehead and gave an agonized groan. He was still wearing his Awakener garb, although the Cipher he’d painted on his head was now just a red smear.
“I see you managed to keep yourself entertained while I was gone,” Frey said. “Heavy night?”
Pinn groaned again and put the towel back on his forehead.
“Mission accomplished, Cap’n?” Jez called, looking up from her book. “What happened to your face?”
Frey touched fingertips to his bruised