The Spy and the Lady Read online

  He shuddered, recalling those flashing fangs. Or had that been a trick of the half-light? A memory clicked into place; he’d seen teeth like those before. If Frieda was anything like the owner of that other set...

  Get a grip, man; decision time. Stay or go?

  Stay, of course.

  Rustam sighed, and did an about face, edging smoothly in the direction Macey and Frieda had vanished.

  Hesta, the larger of the two moons, had risen at last. Her pearly radiance enabled Rustam to ghost through the trees and avoid the single sentry with ease. Even without the moonlight to see by, he’d have smelled the man at ten paces.

  Keeping the rock crag on his right, he crept along, testing each footstep before putting his full weight down. No point risking a twisted ankle, or the noise of a dislodged stone when he had no idea how close he might be to his quarry.

  He would have missed the cave entrance completely if his questing toe hadn’t nudged into something soft. Bending over, he found an unmoving Macey stretched full length on the ground. A metallic taint overpowered the bandit leader’s general odour of poor hygiene, and Rustam’s hands came away sticky when he rolled the man over. Putting a finger to Macey’s neck, he found a pulse. Further investigation revealed a shallow scalp wound, still oozing blood, and a thin strip of leather wrapped around the man’s wrists—Frieda had used Macey’s own belt to tie him up with.

  Rustam smiled. He admired Frieda’s style.

  “It’s Rusty. I’m coming in,” he whispered as he entered the cave. He had no idea where Frieda was, and no intention of ending up like Macey. His nose wrinkled at the putrid stench that thickened with each step he took. Something in the darkness ahead hissed, and he halted, one foot still raised. “I mean no harm,” he said, ready to back out in a hurry. If Frieda was what he suspected her to be, he wasn’t about to provoke her.

  A spark flashed, and a lantern blossomed into life. Frieda glared at him. “Can you not stay out of trouble?”

  Rustam spread both hands. “I couldn’t leave until I knew you were safe.”

  “Well I am, so off you go.”

  A glint of light near Frieda’s right foot caught Rustam’s attention. Shock blanked his mind for a fleeting moment as he made out a huge pair of eyes embedded in a large oval stone.

  “What in Charin’s hell is that?”

  Frieda glanced down. “That,” she said, “is my problem, not yours. Please Rustam, leave now; I’m busy.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not the sort of man who walks away from a situation, and especially now I’ve seen that. You never know; I might be able to help.”

  “Grrr!”

  Frieda’s throaty growl raised the hairs on the back of Rustam’s neck, but he stood his ground. The large pair of eyes blinked slowly up at him, and an equally over-sized mouth appeared beneath them. “Leave me alone,” said the rock in a slow, sonorous tone. “I don’t want any more trouble.”

  Intrigued, Rustam edged forward, keeping half an eye on Frieda. “What trouble are you in?” he asked, wondering slightly about his sanity, talking to a rock. Silence stretched, and just when he thought no answer would be forthcoming, the mouth manifested again.

  “If I don’t do what he wants, he brings dirt. I like my home clean.”

  Frieda raised the lantern and moved it around the small cave, illuminating heaps of stinking refuse. Rats scuttled away from the light, and Frieda spat at them. “You mean Macey, yes? He’s the one forcing you to do something for him?”

  “The stick man,” confirmed the mouth.

  “And what is he forcing you to do?” Rustam asked, unable to imagine what action a lump of stone could be coerced into taking.

  It was Frieda who answered. “He has you hide things, doesn’t he? Like jewellery, and coins, and letters.”

  So that’s what she’s after. The puzzle pieces slotted together in Rustam’s head. “Which is it, Frieda? Are you a thief stealing from thieves, or are you retrieving something?”

  She spat again; an angry sound. “The latter, if you must know—I was sent to retrieve a sensitive letter. I had no idea where Macey was hiding it, but once he led me here I thought I’d find it easily. The bastard’s smarter than I figured, intimidating this gnome into concealing it for him.”

  A gnome. Rustam had heard of the earth elementals, but this was his first encounter with one. A talking stone indeed!

  He eyed the rubbish, and the rats. One scurried over the gnome’s domed head and the whole rock-like creature quivered. At that point Rustam realised how large the elemental was—its body covered at least half the cave’s floor space. If it was hiding Macey’s spoils beneath itself, there was no way to get at them without gaining its cooperation.

  “You don’t like the rats, do you?” he asked.

  The eyes grew even larger, and the voice doleful. “They make dirt.”

  “Well,” said Rustam rubbed his hands together. “I think it’s about time we stopped this bullying, don’t you?” He searched Frieda’s face. “The simplest answer is to kill Macey, but I’m assuming you’ve already discounted that idea?”

  “Killing him would serve no purpose. One of the others would take his place. I’m not here to sort out that situation, even if it is abhorrent; I have a letter to retrieve, and that’s all.”

  “Let’s think about this, there must be a way...”

  Macey’s angry shout from outside the cave drew their attention. “Come out now and we won’t hurt you.”

  “I doubt he’s alone,” Rustam said to Frieda. “Now might be a good time to show them what you really are.”

  She growled, deep in her throat. “How did you—? No, it doesn’t matter now. Stand aside.”

  Before Rustam had time to respond, Frieda kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her gown with practiced ease. Rustam jerked his head away to protect her modesty, totally missing her transformation. One moment he was standing next to a slender naked beauty; the next, a large tawny wildcat brushed past his knee with an ear-splitting yowl.

  Werecat.

  Frieda launched out of the cave, not giving the bandits time to recover from their shock at her wild screech. Two of them went down beneath her in a tangle of limbs. One ran for his life. Rustam bolted after Frieda, knocking another man down and snatching his weapon; a rather handsome sword that must surely have once belonged to a nobleman. He swung it up to block the blade descending towards his head, and the clash of steel rang in his ears. The impact jarred his arm all the way up to his shoulder and he jumped back, twisting out of the path of the dagger thrust aimed at his stomach.

  The whites of Macey’s eyes glinted in a shaft of moonlight, and Rustam backed away from the enraged bandit.

  “What’s the matter, Macey? Kidnapped a woman who’s a bit too much for you?”

  Macey spat. “That ain’t no woman. When I get through with it, it’ll fetch good coin as a hearth rug.”

  “You’ll have to catch her first.”

  Macey lunged again, and Rustam dropped beneath the wild sweep of his blade. Employing a move from his cover profession of Dancing Master, Rustam snapped a leg out, the toe of his boot catching the bandit in the midriff. Macey’s breath whooshed out and he doubled over. Rustam followed through with a sharp kick to the knee, felling his adversary.

  Rustam spun, ready for his next opponent, only to discover the remaining men huddled in a tight group with the werecat pacing before them, her huge fangs glinting in the moonlight and a dark rumble emanating from her throat.

  Rustam stared down at Macey, writhing on the ground with his leg stuck out at an unnatural angle. “I’d give it up, if I were you,” he advised. “You won’t be collecting any ransoms for either of us, I’m afraid.”

  “Damn you!” Macey cursed from between gritted teeth. “This isn’t over; you can’t get at what you want in there.”

  Rustam cocked his head. “Actually, there’s nothing I want in there, but I might give the lady some assistance.”

  �
�You can try all you like, but I guarantee you won’t get it to move.”

  “Let’s see about that, shall we?”

  Leaving the werecat guarding the outlaws, Rustam re-entered the cave and picked up the lantern. The gnome stared mournfully at him.

  “How about I clear out the rubbish?” Rustam offered. “Will you move aside then?”

  “He will bring more.”

  “And if I could prevent that from happening?”

  “Show me.”

  Rustam returned to the cave entrance. He composed himself, focussing on Frieda’s feline form as a template, and created a mental image with a couple of small adjustments. Satisfied, he drew a deep roar from the depths of his being, projecting it up and out of his mouth in a sound no human vocal cords should produce.

  That’s going to be sore for days, but if it does the job, it’ll be worth it.

  He swallowed hard several times and rubbed his sore throat before settling down beside the cave mouth to wait. Night slipped gradually away, punctuated by the harsh breathing of the injured men, and random sharp twitches of the tip of Frieda’s tail. Rustam caught her studying him a few times, but ignored her.

  As the bright rim of the sun peeked over the top of the mountains, Rustam’s call was answered. A pair of spotted wildcats—the real kind, not weres—slunk out of the trees and slipped past him into the cave. Rats poured out, racing to escape the death on paws moving into their territory. When the flood of rodents ceased, Rustam stood up, smiling down at Macey’s angry glare.

  “I think you’ll find this gnome has new tenants. And I don’t believe they will be welcoming certain visitors.” He beckoned to Frieda. “I do believe once we’ve helped clean house, your item will be available for recovery.”

  * * * * * * *

  Rustam’s saddle bags jingled with recovered jewellery and coins. The gnome had been only too pleased for him to remove the lot, and Rustam wondered idly how much of it he would be able to reunite with its owners. With nothing else pressing going on in his life, that seemed like a worthwhile use of his time.

  He glanced down at his travelling companion, walking alongside Nightstalker. The glossy crown of Frieda’s head gleamed in the bright midday sun, golden strands lacing the multicoloured brown hues of her lustrous mane.

  Hair, Rustam corrected himself. At least while she’s in this form.

  Reunited with her belongings, Frieda now wore a practical pair of leggings and a loose shirt, though she’d chosen to stuff her boots into her pack, leaving her feet bare. She padded across the rocky terrain with feline grace, never once missing her stride.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t care to ride with me, or take a turn?” Rustam offered. “I don’t mind walking for a bit.”

  Frieda had refused twice already, but Rustam’s gentlemanly manners kept prompting him to try. They’d left the trees behind some time before, and a seemingly endless wave of foothills rolled away before them; not arduous travelling, but a promise of being long before they reached any form of civilisation.

  Frieda shook her head, loose hair rippling over her shoulders. “I really don’t believe your mare would be too keen to carry me, and besides, I prefer my own feet against the ground.”

  Nightstalker sidled subtly away from Frieda, not for the first time, and Rustam silently agreed with Frieda’s evaluation; the warhorse seemed uncharacteristically wary of their new travel companion. That Frieda sometimes tossed her clothes at Rustam and transformed into a great tawny wildcat probably didn’t help the mare’s trust issues.

  Frieda slanted a glance up at him. “You’ve watched me disrobe four times now, and although you admire my form, you don’t desire me. Who is she, this paragon who imprisons your heart?”

  Silence settled over Rustam. Even the birds ceased to sing, or so it seemed. He narrowed his eyes. “You hold a high opinion of yourself. What makes you think I should desire you?”

  She shrugged. “Nakedness is the norm amongst my kind, but I’ve seen what it does to yours. Are you so different to all the humans I’ve encountered before?”

  Not ready to unwind the steel threads that bound his heart, still Rustam could not dispute her observations. He stared ahead, across the endless hills. “Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am not quite the man you believe me to be.”

  Damn! I let her goad me. Charin’s breath! Out of the game for barely a season and I’m allowing her to manipulate me like a novice.

  Frieda’s elegant eyebrows drew down to form a ‘V’ above her nose. Her nostrils flared, tasting the air. “Chel and Charin!” Her turn to swear. “You’re part elf! That’s how you did it.”

  Rustam nodded, relieved he’d deflected her from the question he had no desire to answer, to even consider – honey blonde hair, cascading from beneath a concealing hat, sharp blue eyes, edged with pain...

  He held up a hand, finger and thumb displaying a small gap between them. “Only one quarter. I’m fortunate it comes out in a useful manner.”

  “Indeed, it does.” Frieda’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “Were you going anywhere specific, when you threw yourself into my life?”

  Rustam shook his head. “Nowhere in particular. I find myself unexpectedly without Craft or Guild to answer to.”

  Frieda tilted her head. “Is that what you call employment in Tyr-en?”

  I’d almost forgotten, society is organised so differently in this kingdom. That’s going to take some getting used to.

  “It is,” he confirmed. “I suppose that means I’m currently unemployed.”

  “If you’re interested, I might know someone who could use your skills.”

  “You mean a job?”

  She nodded.

  “As it happens, I would be,” he began, when something Frieda had said to Macey popped into his mind. “You mentioned influential connections; would this have anything to do with the Kishtanian court, by any chance?”

  One corner of her mouth quirked up. “It might,” she admitted.

  “Likely to be anyone I know?”

  Frieda snorted. “I doubt that. Unless you’ve visited the Kishtanian court recently?”

  “Funny you should say that—I have.”

  She blinked up at him. “You aren’t really Tyr-enese royalty. Are you?”

  With his best enigmatic smile, Rustam held his tongue and rode on.

  The Prince’s Man – The Five Kingdoms Book #1

  If you enjoyed The Spy and the Lady, you can find out how Rustam

  came to be in this situation in the full-length novel

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  Award winning novel, THE PRINCE’S MAN, has been described as ‘James Bond meets Lord of the Rings’ - a sweeping tale of spies and deadly politics, inter-species mistrust and magic phobia, with an underlying thread of romance.

  Rustam Chalice, dance tutor, gigolo, and spy, loves his life, never better than when he’s bedding a gorgeous woman.

  So when the kingdom he serves is threatened from within, he leaps into action. Only trouble is, the spy master, Prince Hal, teams him up with an untouchable aristocratic assassin who despises him.

  And to make matters worse, she’s the most beautiful woman in the Five Kingdoms.

  Plunged into a desperate journey over the mountains, the mismatched pair struggle to survive deadly wildlife, the machinations of a spiteful god - and each other.

  They must also keep alive a sickly elf they need as a political pawn. But when the elf reveals that Rustam has magic of his own, he is forced to question his identity, his sanity and worst, his loyalty to his prince.

  For in Tyr-en, all magic users are put to death.

  THE PRINCE’S SON – The Five Kingdoms Book #2

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  She sought a husband, but found a destiny

  Nessa Haddo has been raised to pursue what every young noblewoman needs: a suitable husband. Unfortunately f
or her, as a younger twin, her prospects are limited. Things start to look up when she lays eyes on the handsome foreign envoy sent to escort her sister to an arranged marriage, but her romantic fantasies quickly entangle her in events beyond her darkest nightmares.

  Compared to his last mission, ex-spy Rustam Chalice’s new assignment sounds simple: wrangle an unwieldy bridal caravan across a mountain range populated by bandits, trolls, werecats, and worse, try to cajole a traumatized princess out of her self-imposed isolation, and arrive on time for the politically sensitive wedding. What could possibly go wrong?

  Meanwhile, Lady Risada—the woman who haunts Rustam’s dreams—is struggling to adjust to a normal life. All her carefully honed assassin’s instincts scream warnings of foul play, yet she can find nothing obviously amiss.

  And deep in the halls of a mountain clan, an old enemy plucks his victims’ strings with expert malice.

  THE FIVE KINGDOMS BOOK #3

  THE PRINCE’S PROTEGEE

  COMING SOON

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  SPRITE NIGHT

  A Caledonian Sprite short story

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  Discover a unique eco-urban fantasy with a touch of romance.

  When Scottish water sprite, Cassie, volunteers for an anti-fracking protest, the last thing she expects is to find herself at odds with a druid. But with time running out for the local environment, she can’t afford to be distracted by the handsome hunk of a Highlander.

  Intent on a minor act of sabotage, Cassie is totally unprepared to be caught in the cross-fire of a magical battle. Can she avert catastrophe? Or will she become the very agency of an ecological disaster?