Kingdom of Scourge and Shadow (The Sightstone Series #1)

Chapter Seventeen: Max

"St. Nikolaas, patron of Allerstad, was born a lowly thief, yet rose to create a trade empire in the name of his God."

-The Allerstad Codex on St. Nikolaas

***

 Jan's plan–if Max could even call the odd combination of ideas he'd unveiled–was complete and utter bullshit. It was a mess of deception that relied on them getting lucky, time and time again, as they attempted to bluff their way into the embassy.

Max didn't like it, and, as he sat with Zoya at the bar in the Tempest as the club's staff prepared for the night's business to begin, he said as much. For a long moment, she stayed silent, tracing the rim of her beer glass with a single fingertip.

Then, she turned an intense, golden-eyed stare on him and said, almost coldly, "Do you have a better plan?"

"Not at the moment, no," Max replied, a bit stiffly. He'd thought, given how contemplative she seemed, that she'd be on his side in this. "But you have to admit, Jan's plan... It's a half-baked, desperate gamble. It's not like him."

Zoya let out a heavy sigh and turned her piercing stare back to her pint. "You know Jan wouldn't have suggested it if there was another way."

And, just like that, Max relented. "I know," he said, yielding like melting snow in the face of a spring thaw. She was right, of course. She was almost always right. Much like Jan, in fact. Any plan he made would be the best, safest way to pull off a job and get away with it. It was the way he always operated. He would never–never–needlessly risk his crew, despite his reputation.

Logically, Max knew that. But this plan... It made him profoundly uncomfortable.

"Still," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe he wants us to just waltz in the front door. If we aren't totally convincing, or if we can't create a convincing disguise..."

He didn't need to go on. If they couldn't come up with a great disguise for her, Natalie would be facing discovery and recognition the moment they stepped foot on embassy grounds. And, if she was recognized, Max was under no illusions that the Saroviyans wouldn't hesitate to ship her back to Saroviya to face whatever fate she'd run from. He doubted that even her precious naval captain could save her from that fate.

Speaking of which... "How do you think Natalie's getting on with her captain?" he asked Zoya.

She smirked. "From the way she was looking at him when I left, she either wanted to kiss him, kill him or jump his bones."

Max made a face. "Jump his bones?" he drawled, arching an eyebrow. "Really, Zoya? That's the best you could put it?"

Zoya shrugged. "It's not my job to be tactful."

Max shook his head, bemused, and took a long swig of ale as Zoya stared into the foam of her beer as if she might discover the secrets of the universe in its foam. The silence between them stretched, and Max began to grow impatient. He'd never been very good at being quiet and patient, preferring action to waiting, and Zoya's contemplative quiet started to get on his nerves.

He squirmed in his seat and took another gulp of ale, trying to distract himself by watching the staff set up for the evening crowds, but there wasn't much to see. At this hour, before sunset, the club was quiet and nearly empty. Only a handful of punters sat at the card table, and the roulette parlor was empty. Zoya and Max were the only people at the bar.

Finally, Max's patience ran out. "Do you think we can pull it off?" he blurted.

Zoya gave a lithe, graceful shrug that reminded him rather of a dancer. "Jan thinks we can," she said simply, as if that meant they would. Jan was rarely wrong, but even he made mistakes. Max just hoped this wouldn't be one of them.