Spy's Honor by Amy Raby

he’s got to find Ral-Vaddis! He’s got to find intelligence to help the war effort! He’s made an enemy of Micah, he’s aroused the man’s suspicions, and he might get caught. We don’t have any other shroud mages. Only him!”
    â€œI came here to help my people in any way I could,” said Janto. “That woman is one of my people.”
    â€œYou have to put the most important things first,” said Iolo. “It’s awful what Micah does to those women, but if we lose you, and Mosar loses the war, how many more of them are going to be raped or killed by Kjallan soldiers?”
    Sirali folded her arms. “I think if a prince would let his people get hurt right in front of him, he deserves to lose his kingdom.”
    â€œWhat about everyone else in that kingdom?” snarled Iolo. “What do they deserve?”
    â€œRight, and if it were
men
being hurt instead of
women
—,” began Sirali.
    â€œQuiet, both of you,” said Janto. “What’s done is done.” He only hoped it didn’t turn out as disastrously as Silverside. “Sirali, you say he does this frequently?”
    She nodded. “He picks out a slave. Does what he likes with her.”
    Janto bit his lip. “What can we do to stop him from doing it?”
    â€œKill him,” she said cheerfully.
    Yes, kill
. Sashi bared his teeth.
    â€œOh, no,” said Iolo. “You couldn’t possibly. There’d be an investigation.”
    â€œIolo’s right,” said Janto. “But start thinking. I helped one woman tonight, but that won’t help the one Micah chooses next time. Come up with an answer.”

10
    W hen Rhianne arrived at the bench under the Poinciana for her language lesson the next morning, Janto wasn’t there. Annoyed, since it was beyond ridiculous for a slave not to show up for an appointment with an imperial princess, she sat down to wait for him. Ten minutes dragged by, and he did not come.
    â€œDo you suppose he might be sick?” she asked her bodyguard.
    â€œWe could ask the head gardener,” replied Tamienne.
    â€œWhat about that man?” Rhianne angled her head toward an anxious-looking slave who kept glancing over at her as he pulled weeds. “Maybe he knows something.” She raised her voice. “You there.”
    The man stood, trembling but confused.
    â€œPox it,” said Rhianne. “Probably doesn’t speak Kjallan.” She switched to Mosari, hoping she wouldn’t need any difficult words. “Where is Janto?”
    A flood of frantic Mosari erupted from the man.
    â€œWait, wait,” she called. “I don’t understand. Come closer.”
    He approached.
    â€œSpeak slowly and use easy words. Please. Where is Janto?”
    â€œGuards came,” said the man. “Took him.”
    â€œWhat?” she cried. “Why?”
    The man looked frightened. He shook his head and shrugged.
    He knows something, but he doesn’t want to tell me,
thought Rhianne. “What guards? Where did they take him?”
    â€œLegaciatti,” said the slave. He pointed toward one of the garden exits.
    Rhianne nodded. “Come on, Tami. We have to find him.”
    â€œHe said
Legaciatti
. If they took him—,” began her bodyguard.
    â€œI don’t care.” If Janto’s crime had been something minor, like insubordination or being late to work, ordinary guards or the slave overseer would have dealt with it. Since the Legaciatti were involved, Janto was accused of something serious—theft or the assault of a Kjallan, perhaps. Or they might suspect him of being a spy. From what she’d seen of Janto, it didn’t surprise her terribly that he’d wound up on the wrong side of Kjallan law, but it did frighten her. She realized just how much she didn’t want to see Janto come to harm.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    Janto was trapped. He’d been