Read an Excerpt
"Damn it!"
"Such language. Tsk-tsk," someone said in English.
She spun around, lowering her pistol when she recognized the face. "Agent Blue. I should have known. What in bl-?" She cleared her throat. "What is going on?"
Blue, so called because of his startling azure eyes, frowned. "As fond as I am of standing about on street corners discussing covert operations, I believe my carriage would be more apropos." He unfurled his fingers, indicating a coach waiting at the corner. Then he crooked one finger and beckoned her to follow.
When they were inside, she settled back on the squabs and closed her eyes. Her mind was racing, thoughts and questions piling one on top of another. How had she lost the man in the gray cloak? Should she have gone right instead of left? No, her instincts had been correct, but-She
opened her eyes and stared at Blue. Her nose itched... something was wrong.
Blue's expression offered no answers. He had a face easily forgotten. It was nondescript, except for those amazing blue eyes. And even that worked to his advantage. People remembered the eyes and little else.
Blue had known she was after Ducos. He had given her the orders to apprehend Bonaparte's advisor-orders straight from the top echelons of the Barbican group. Who else knew she was here? And who but an agent of the Barbican group could act with such efficiency, such calm in the midst of chaos, as the man in the gray cloak had shown?
"That man in the gray cloak," she said, finally piecing the events of the evening together. "He was one of ours."
It was a calculated guess. Her ears had been ringing so loudly she hadn't been able to detect anything about the man's voice or accent, let alone his affiliation.
Blue inclined his head, proving her supposition correct.
"Is that... all you noticed?" Blue asked smoothly.
Saint narrowed her eyes. There had been something else. Something familiar about the gray-cloaked man. The way he moved perhaps. Or the way he stood.
She shook her head. She'd been peering through a bullet hole and had seen no more than mere snatches of the intruder.
"Ducos was my target," she said. "If I was pulled from the mission, why wasn't I notified?"
Blue gave her a dubious look. "You disobeyed a direct order to leave for France."
"Because I knew Ducos would stay here."
"You took a guess, and while I will admit your instincts are unsurpassed, they are no excuse for disobeying orders."
"My orders were to apprehend Ducos."
"Your orders were to follow the plan-and your part of the plan was to leave for France."
"Plans," she scoffed. "A good agent thinks on her feet."
"A good agent does as she's told."
She rolled her eyes. "Who was he?" Saint asked, returning to her original subject. "The man in the gray cloak? Ducos was mine, and I want-"
Blue shook his head. "It doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter? I've been tracking Ducos for weeks."
"And now we have him. Ironically, we don't need him anymore."
"But of course we need him! Ducos might be the key to finding Bonaparte. He..." Saint stared at Blue, comprehension dawning. "You have him-Bonaparte."
"Yes. Bonaparte surrendered two days ago. He's on a ship, bound for exile."
Saint blinked. It was good news. And yet...
Blue was watching her, his expression one she'd never seen before. "I've been sent to tell you the King appreciates your services, but they're no longer needed."
Saint started. "What do you mean?"
Blue gave her an impatient look. "You know what I mean. It's the same for most of us agents. The war is over."
"But there are other conflicts-other missions. I could-"
Blue shook his head, and Saint suppressed an exasperated scream. No point in venting her anger on Blue. He was only the messenger, and the group's message was final.
She was no longer needed.
She sighed, resigned for the moment. "So that's it. Thank you and good-bye." She tried to imagine her life without missions and targets and felt her stomach roil uneasily. She'd been an agent, in one capacity or another, practically all her life. Without her work, what did she have?
Nothing but failure-empty dreams, an empty house, an empty cradle. And now-now she was being summarily dismissed, back to that barren life. To be reminded, daily, of her domestic failures.
"It's a shock, I know," Blue said, "but look on the bright side. You can go home to your-who are you going home to?"
Under normal circumstances, such a personal question would never have been asked, much less answered, but she was out of a job. Her life's work ripped out from under her. Saint didn't see the point of concealment anymore. "I have a husband."
"Ah, well, go home to him. No doubt he misses you terribly."
Saint raised a brow. "No doubt."
No doubt he never even noticed she was gone. Their wedding had been nothing more than a union between two noble families, their marriage a failure from the start. And five years later, Adrian was a stranger to her. And she to him-a necessary circumstance in her line of work. There was a palpable distance between them. She knew, because she had fostered and nurtured it.
It kept her safe.
And lonely.
She shook off her self-pity. Loneliness wasn't important. It quickly dispersed when she embarked on another mission. And surely the Foreign Office would find something consequential for her to do.
Wouldn't it?
She glanced at Blue, noted that unfamiliar expression again. Except now she placed it: pity.
Saint stared out the window at the lights of the alien city, at the residents' energetic hustle and bustle, at her glorious career for the Foreign Office fading away.
