Free Rook by Sharon Cameron Page B

room. Bed with curtains, no canopy, small table with an empty drawer, plain chair. Nothing under the mattress, no wall hangings, just an imperfect cube of plaster riddled with tiny cracks. Nowhere to hide anything. Maybe LeBlanc kept important things with him. Or maybe he kept everything important inside his head.
    She went back to the plastic box, took the papers out again in a precise stack, and held it close to the candle. The outside of the box was satin smooth to her fingertips, and so was the inside. Except at one end. Her finger paused, pushed, and the bottom of the box flipped up and open, showing a shallow compartment underneath. Inside was a stack of letters. Sophia smiled, and then she froze, one hand full of papers. A board had creaked in the hallway, just beyond the door.
    She lifted her other hand to the candle, ready to grab the telling light and blow it out if a key went into LeBlanc’s lock. But the moments passed and there was no other noise. The old wood settling, most likely. She went back to the papers, scanning each one quickly. She needed to be gone.
    The letters were written in Parisian, just like the rest of LeBlanc’s papers. One was from Allemande, making LeBlanc aware of governmental minutiae, and one was from Renaud, his secretary, with the city’s most recent list of traitors. None of her relatives or childhood friends were on the list this time, but seeing the names made her fingers itch for a set of picklocks all the same.
    The next letter was an ill-written report from Gerard—the Gerard of the Tombs, she realized—giving LeBlanc a somewhat sketchy description of the Red Rook. Young, medium to smallish height, and in the robes of a holy man. Sophia cursed once beneath her breath. The holy man was not her only disguise, but it had been one of the most useful. She wondered what Gerard had promised the poor wretch who’d told him this. Freedom? The freedom of his family? But promises or no, now that Gerard knew he hadn’t just been bribed, but bribed by the Red Rook, whichever prisoner had given this information would surely go straight to the Razor. The fact that Gerard was even mentioning it to LeBlanc made her feel certain this was already a truth.
    She shifted the papers. The last letter was half-finished, and written in a hand that had to be LeBlanc’s. Small, precise, and somehow ferret-like, just like him. Her eyes widened, nose moving closer to the paper as she read.
    My dear René,
    I am certain your instincts are correct, and your ingenuity is appreciated. But let me suggest yet another step in your plans. Gain the young lady’s trust; befriend her. Use your charms as you always do and I am sure you will get the information we seek. I will try to do the same. Taking the traitor Bonnard back to the City of Light is preferable, but as you say, it is the Red Rook that must be snared. The divine authority of Allemande and the Goddess cannot be questioned. I am happy to know that you are willing to sacrifice so much for the cause if this comes to marriage, but do not take such drastic measures too soon. The Red Rook is close. Write as soon as you have information. And tell your mother I …
    Sophia stared at the words, barely resisting the urge to crumple the paper. Instead she put the letters in the same order inside the false bottom and pressed it closed. She replaced the stack that had been on top, shut the lid, and set the box exactly where she’d found it. Then she stood, breath coming hard, candle held high to check the room. Her hand was shaking. Not from fear, or even a bout of temper. This was rage.
    René and his cousin had planned this from the beginning, never intending to have René marry her at all, or at least not for the reasons they had assumed. René had come for the Red Rook, and was using her father’s financial circumstances to do it. LeBlanc must have already had his suspicions before the night she’d rescued the Bonnards. And then he’d played her from both