WHERE RIVER MEETS SEA | ONE

"ARE YOU INSANE?"

  The words were spat out, rageful, filled with anger. But the girl's face was anything but. Daneira Pang ushered in the man through her backdoor, nothing but concern in her expression, clear as day even in the dark, starless night.

  He looked at her, a weak grin on his face. "For you, always, Danna dearest."

  She stared him dead in the face, her feet not slowing even the slightest. She'd always been an efficient woman. It was one of the many things he liked about her. "You're trying to get me killed. I swear it."

  Aleksandr Volkov shrugged as he was brought into the kitchen and lowered onto one of the chairs. "I was careful. No one saw me." He took the chance to glance around. Nothing had changed since the last time he'd been here. Orange walls, the white-tile cabinets and tables bordered with blue, the red stone on the ground. The tables were spotless and clean. As always.

  She took a step back and studied him, eyes dark and unreadable. "You've been attacked."

  "Nothing too bad," he assured her, "just some blunt damage. A few punches and kicks. They're having it worse."

  Danna rubbed her eyes, exhaustion showing. "I can't risk a doctor for you, you know that. You shouldn't be here at all."

  "Didn't have a choice. I came with a message."

  "Let's save that for later. Wait here. I'll bring you some clothes to change into—one of the agents left some behind, they're either dead now or trapped in the middle of somewhere—and get you up to bed. Then I'll give you the checkup you require and do not deserve."

  "Your bed?"

  Danna looked like she was about to punch him in the face. "Do not push your luck."

  "I wouldn't dream of it," he muttered, watching as she vanished down the corridor into the darkness of the rest of the house.

  It had been three years. Three years since they'd met, three years since Danna had come here to Melique, in the centre of her enemy's territory. In a world filled with soldiers and warriors more than equipped for this, Sai chose Danna Pang to do their dirtiest work.

  Somehow, she still lived.

  She returned, clothes in hand. "You shouldn't be here," she repeated, as if it was a chant she could rely on to keep her head steady and cool. But he could see the nervousness in her body, the tension, the crease of her brows. They'd never been able to lie to each other that well.

  When he didn't say anything, she continued on. "If my people realise I'm housing a Kozlov agent–"

  "Novokuluga and Sai are not at war."

  "They might be in a few years. And just because we're not at war does not mean we're buddy-buddies. The only thing keeping us neutral is the fact the Court of Bones is not fond of the Imperial Novokulugan Court either. You better pray nightly that it stays that way."

  They were both knives wielded by a nation. Aleks worked for the Kozlov Novokulugan government, the one that had broken away from the Imperial Court years ago and been at war since. And Danna was one of the top agents for the Empire of Sai. And she was right. If Sai joined the war, the Kozlov wouldn't be able to stand for long.

  "Change," she commanded, throwing the clothes into his outspread arms. His body throbbed with pain, but he didn't argue. She turned her back to pour some water into two glasses, placing one down in front of him. She didn't bother averting her eyes, but she didn't stare either.

  Frighteningly practical, his Danna.

  "Drink," she commanded, once he'd changed out of his tattered shirt. He obeyed, because the other choice was spending the rest of the night under her glare. He was thirsty anyways.

  "Now go change your pants. I'll go upstairs and prepare the room. You sure it's all blunt damage?" she queried, turning to glance at them, eyebrows bunched up.

  Some people looked at Daneira Pang and saw someone who was plain. A wallflower. They didn't look deep enough to see the beauty in her stone-carved features. She was no marble statue goddess of a statue, no, she was a soldier made of limestone, unflinching, unbreaking. They didn't see the way her face changed when her mind moved. They didn't see the calculated grace in every one of her movements, the wariness, the way she walked and stood and sat like a cat ready to pounce and escape at any moment.

  Aleks thought she was beautiful. Those who didn't agree were shallow fools.

  "I'm sure."

  She gave a quick, curt nod and marched upstairs.

  Changing into new pants only took a few moments. He'd been in worse situations. When Danna returned, she helped him stand up from the chair and slowly brought him up the stairs. Once he'd entered Danna's room—white walls, wooden floor, large windows with curtains pulled neatly shut and neatly organised desk and vanity—he practically collapsed on the bed before wincing.

  She asked, "What on earth happened to you?"

  "Got attacked."

  "By?" Knowing full well she intended to start inspecting him all over, Aleks hadn't bothered buttoning his shirt. She pushed it onto the side, and began a detailed, careful study of his bruised torso. Every time she hit somewhere that hurt, he winced, not bothering to keep it under. "You need something cold on that. I can get a piece of meat from the basement."

  He wrinkled his nose. "That's going to smell."

  "Sacrifices, sacrifices."

  She was gone again before he could react, a flurry of steps and her skirt flapping behind her. She'd left behind her silken qipaos and cheongsam in Sai. Wearing those would be going against everything Melique stood for, and she needed to fit in. She already looked a bit too Saian for most of the people here. Her slightly darker skin didn't matter to the Meliqueans. It was her features that did. The features she'd gotten from her father, not her mother.

  He took a moment to collect his thoughts. He didn't hear anyone else, so the agents who frequented her house looking for assignments and orders weren't here tonight. Iolanthe Mi's presence was notably absent—the younger girl was probably on a mission somewhere, terrorising the Meliqueans.

  Sometimes he worried. Danna was one girl living in enemy grounds, undercover. If she was caught, she was dead. Completely and utterly dead. Besides, she wasn't just any spy. She practically ran the entirety of Sai's intelligence network in Melique from this house. If the Meliqueans got their hands on her, he shuddered to think of the treatment she'd go through.

  The Meliqueans weren't known for being merciful.

  But then he'd remind himself she was more than capable of looking out for herself. She was one of the strongest, bravest and most intelligent people he knew. She'd be fine. She had strong friends anyways.

  When she came back, piece of frozen meat in hand, he questioned, "Where's Io?"

  Over the years, Miss Pang had become Danna and Miss Mi Io. Life was funny. He'd never expected his life to be intertwined with this pair of mismatched girls, but look where he was now.

  "On a mission. Haven't heard from her for a little bit, so I assume she's very busy wreaking havoc."

  They kept their voices soft and used Meliquean. Languages travelled further than the words themselves. Danna's house was secluded and mostly isolated, but there could be people listening.

  "Of course." He heard the slight worry in her voice, though. She hated being away from Io, who had been one of her sole anchors back to home in the past three years. Hated not knowing what might have happened to the girl.

  He took the frozen meat from his hand and placed it on the bruises, sucking in a breath at the sudden coolness. She sat down beside them.

  He reached out to take her hand. She let him. "Unfortunately," he joked, "I didn't come here just for you."

  "I didn't expect so." Her eyes were dark and unreadable. "Who attacked you?"

  He rubbed his forehead. He didn't answer her question directly, instead saying, "I was instructed to hunt down the Black Camellia."

  "That doesn't answer my question. Or why you're here."

  They both knew the Black Camellia, of course, he didn't have to explain any of that. The Asayaman assassin under the employment of the Meliqueans, who took care of political rivals and enemies in foreign countries with efficiency. Someone whose hands were stained with too much innocent blood. Someone more legend than flesh.

  Someone both of them had been hunting relentlessly for the past two years, seeking to end her unholy reign of terror.

  He looked at her and said the words he knew she didn't want to hear. "The Camellia was spotted by my fellow agents at the borders."

  She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him, expression grim. He continued, "She's back in Melique. Just in time, too, because Rufino Caba has been having a headache over Leocadio Mallen's sudden rise to power and influence in the past few months." Rufino Caba. President of Melique. And Mallen, his sole opponent. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

  She narrowed her eyes. "Assassinating political rivals isn't Caba's style." He agreed. Caba preferred grand, public executions. Whether the person deserved the sentencing was a whole other matter.

  Aleks shrugged as well as he could and replied, "No. But it is Contreras'."

  Danna swore. Loudly. "The Black Camellia is in Ovienada, then?"

  "She's probably arrived by now. The tip came in three days ago."

  "Just arrived, then. And who were you attacked by?"

  "Got into a... skirmish while attempting to enter the city."

  Danna's eyes leapt to his. "The soldiers?"

  He felt his body tense then relax. "They got Pyotr. Bullet to the head. I managed to sneak away."

  She inched closer to him, stroking his head. He shut his eyes and let himself enjoy the sensation. Softly, she began. "I'm sorry. He was a good man."

  She'd never liked Pyotr Solovev, and Pyotr had never liked her. But out of respect for him, both of them stayed quiet the few times they crossed paths. But Pyotr had been his friend. They'd gone on more missions together than he could count, and they had known each other like the back of their hands.

  And now he was dead.

  It had never managed to strike him more than in moments like this how fragile the human life was. One bullet. One blade. One twist of the neck. Years vanished, sweet memories turning foul and bitter in an instant. The feeling of I could have done something to stop it mixed with the sadness and grief.

  He'd already lost too many people. He refused to lose Danna too. It's why he accepted this mission in the first place. He hadn't had much in the place of competition. No one wanted to come here, even though the Kozlov government wasn't an enemy of the Meliquean's. Right now, Melique just wasn't a place anyone wanted to be at.

  "I know." His voice was rougher than he wanted it to be. She wouldn't judge. It was one of those things he loved about her.

  "I suppose you're here to hunt down the Black Camellia."

  "She owes us far too many lives."

  "Only one matters most, though," she mused. "We'll make her pay for what happened to Svetlana Makarova. Cassalyn Diao has a new scar thanks to the Camellia too, I'll help her get some payback. A nice birthday present, wouldn't you agree?"

  "She'll love it." He'd met Cassalyn Diao—it was Cassalyn Dalton-Diao now, wasn't it?—once or twice. She hadn't liked him, but that had been expected. After all, he had been instructed to stick to her and her husband like glue during their entire stay at the Kozlov capital. He'd told Danna about that the next time they'd met, and she'd calmly informed him that it was a miracle Mrs Dalton-Diao hadn't stabbed him in the throat.

  He'd realised that Danna's friends were all very violent. Did very little to ward him off, though. He could hold his own around violent people, often being one himself. Besides, he had some degree of diplomatic immunity, as surprising as that was to even himself.

  She hummed, the mood lightened now. "You should rest."

  "I will. In a moment."

  She said, "If everything's going as planned, I have two agents swinging by tomorrow for information and a new mission. You'll have to be quiet."

  "I know what to do." He patted her hand reassuringly. He wasn't an idiot, even though most people seem to think that, Danna sometimes included.

  He simply liked to act like a no-good rakish, foolish baboon, that was all. It was a fairly respectable hobby in his opinion, and an excellent way to kill time.

  She said, "I'll take on the mission to capture the Black Camellia personally, but I'll tell the agents to keep their eyes open just in case as well."

  He nodded. He wanted to keep it between the two of them, but that wouldn't be efficient. Considering the amount of Saian lives lost in the Camellia's hands, the Saians wouldn't let her off easy.

  "I'm tired," he murmured. "Think I'm going to fall asleep any second now."

  "Go ahead." She smiled. "I'll join you in a bit. Have to get some work done."

  He managed a nod, and she stood up. Tucking him into the blanket, she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Good night, Aleks."

  "Good night, Danna."

《-》

  DANNA WENT BACK downstairs after that. She was not, despite what she had just said, joining him in a bit. She had a lot to do. Even more now because of his arrival. Not that she regretted it, though. With Io gone, she wasn't that close personally with the other Saian agents in Melique. Somedays, she felt like she was going insane.

  The Black Camellia. It was personal for Aleks. And in a way, it was personal for her too. She'd had acquaintances killed by that bitch. Sooner or later, preferably in their hands, the assassin's unholy reign of terror would end.

  They should have stopped her long ago. Her mistake.

  She headed back down to the kitchen, checking to make sure the back door was locked. She lived in a state of permanent vulnerability here, right under the enemy's nose hidden as one of their own. One mistake, and she could say goodbye to her head. It didn't matter that the two countries were knee-deep in a discussion for a peace treaty. She quite dearly enjoyed having her head connected to her neck.

  The door was locked. Perfect. Her cover was simple. She was a young widow whose husband had been greatly supportive of the Meliquean and planned on moving here before he died tragically young. Heartbroken, she moved here in an attempt to continue her husband's dreams. Hence, the quiet house in a faraway corner of a neighbourhood where no one cared about each other. Hence, the guests and friends that occasionally came—her husband's friends before his death, coming to offer their consolations and keep her company.

  They didn't know that this house served as the base for Saian's spy network in Melique. They didn't need to know.

  The clothes Aleks had abandoned on the chair, she picked up. They were bloody and torn. Unsalvageable. She'll burn those. If they weren't tinted with fresh red blood, she might have used them as a washcloth.

  When she'd step foot into Lady Kuroki's School for Girls, she hadn't been expecting the path to lead to this.

  The knives on the kitchen counter were sharp and ready for use. Only some of them were for cooking. She only kept the clean, unused ones here, because she wanted to keep her appetite and wasn't a cannibal or a vampire. She picked one up and put it somewhere easy to grab near the door, just in case Aleks had been followed. Unlikely, though, the guards weren't that diligent.

  She pushed the chair back into place and sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. Damn all of this. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Io hadn't sent a single message for more than a month. Pyotr Solovev was dead. She hadn't heard anything from her friends in Sai for a while. And the Black Camellia was in town.

  It was just all a clusterfuck, wasn't it? Not that she wasn't used to dealing with those. Her entire life had been one after the next.

  But the consequences of failing to survive those hadn't been long, stretched-out death. She had too much to live for, too much to lose.

  She cursed herself for being a coward and letting this become her future. This bleak little home that wasn't her own where she lived in fear every day.

  But no. She had things to do. So she left the kitchen and went to her study, where some of her papers had been strategically hidden across the room just in case. She found her file on the Black Camellia and scanned its content, as if things would have miraculously been added since the last time she'd seen this.

  The Black Camellia. Sex: Female. Age: Unknown. Assumed mid-to-late-twenties. Nationality: Asayaman. Allegiance: Melique. Years Active: Unknown. Known Victims:

  She stopped there. Too many names. Some she recognised. Some she knew personally. And hovering above them all, Svetlana Makarova.

  She hadn't known the girl, but sometimes she felt like she did. My best friend since childhood, Aleks had said with more than a bit of longing in his voice.

  The niece of the tsar, Danna had reminded.

  Her side of the family defected to us. A smile. They were a branch full of hopeful revolutionaries. And now look. Their hope, their future, their heir is dead.

  She might not be.

  The Meliqueans don't take prisoners unless they really, really hate you. She wished then she could banish the shadows from his eyes. But she couldn't do that for herself, so what could she do for him? Sveta's only crime was getting roped up in some anti-Meliquean movement when she was vulnerable. They took her because she was a big name. Powerful. Known. Loved. Knew it would cause a wave of fear. What's that proverb in Saian for that again?

  Danna hadn't need to think. Sha yi jing bai. Kill one to suppress the rest.

  Yes, that's it.

  The conversation still rang clear in her head. She'd never been able to get rid of it. This girl was innocent. And now she was gone.

  She still remembered his face when Cora Langley had admitted it. Still remembered the rage, the fury that had suddenly appeared in his eyes like a forest fire. The anger that had stunned even her. Because before then, she'd dismissed him as nothing more than an agent with a callous attitude who refused to take anything seriously, who the Kozlov used because he was skilled. It was then she'd seen the protectiveness, the hurt, the loyalty in this man. It was then she truly respected him.

  Their paths crossed too many times to count in the years since. He came often to Melique. She wasn't sure if it was because of her or if his superiors just commanded it. But every time he did, he'd make a stop here before continuing on his journey. She didn't remember when friends had turned to lovers. When the professional respect they had felt for each other became more.

  But that wasn't important. Not now. Not until the war was over—and not even then, perhaps, because god knew Irina was already planning how to reclaim Kozlov land for their Imperial allies in Novokuluga back at the Court of Bones, her cunning, shrewd princess.

  For now, the goal was the Black Camellia. And how to stop the woman before it was too late.