I’ve spent a long time purposefully keeping myself from getting involved in the war. Two years, actually. Two years keeping my neck out of a rope.

And so of course I was going to get sucked back in.

Captain Lockland has another bed set up in his cabin for me. It’s actually decent lodging— I’ve been bouncing between so many different places, usually a bedroll in a sheltered clearing… A bed is nice. I can clean myself up a bit, shave the blond bristle that’s started covering my chin, give my hair a proper brushing. It’s nice to finally see my true self in the mirror—especially since the next day, Captain Lockland brings me a clean, if faded Continental uniform.

I start chuckling and turn back to my shaving.

“You’re officially my secretary,” he says.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“You are, or you don’t get your new boat.”

“Spies shouldn’t have uniforms.”

“You’re not a spy right now,” he says shortly. “You’re my secretary, like I said. Around camp, you’ll wear the uniform.”

I sigh heavily and wash my face in the basin, then tie my hair back with a sleek blue ribbon. His eyes linger on it.

“I stole it,” I say flatly.

“Wasn’t thinking about that,” he says. “Just— noting that you clean up nicely.”

I snort and say cockily, “I know.”

“Your attitude, on the other hand, does not.”

I turn to face him, smirking. “The outside so rarely reflects the inside, doesn’t it, Captain.”

“Yes.” He smiles. “And so, I’m glad that I was born with a plain face.”

I study it. Not plain. Soft. He has a gentle face. Freckles. Those big blue eyes.

He turns away. “You’ll need a code name.” He hesitates. “And… I don’t actually know your real name, either.”

I pull off the nightshirt they’d given me and reach for the uniform. “Pearce.”

“Is that the real name, or the code name?”

I just smile at him.

He finally nods.

“Pearce,” he repeats. Then he holds out his hand. “I’m sorry that we met under the circumstances that we did.”

I stop buttoning my shirt to shake. He has a good handshake— solid, but not domineering. I let his hand drop and go back to dressing myself.

He goes to his desk and pulls out a stack of letters. I glance up from tying one of my boots.

“What are those?”

“Something I got last night.”

I hold out a hand. “May I?”

He hesitates only for a moment. “Of course.”

I grab the letters and look them over. They’re written in English, but too much of it is just… nothing. Sentences that are fragmented with unrelated words thrown in…

“It’s obviously a cipher, but you won’t be able to crack it without a codebook,” I say, tossing them back to him.

“Frustratingly, yes,” he says.

“Do you recognize the handwriting from any of your soldiers?”

He shakes his head. “But I could get new samples. Problem is, the spy’s up in General Washington’s camp. It’s unlikely to be one of my men.”

“Ah. Of course. Frustrating.” I tie up my other boot.

“Yes.” He puts the letters away. “I have to go attend to my men. You’re free to do as you wish, though keep up the appearance of being my secretary.”

I give him an elaborate bow. He rolls his eyes and heads out.

I take another moment to finish dressing, the blue coat feeling stiff and unnatural on my shoulders, then start looking around Lockland’s room.

It’s not that I don’t trust my new commander. But everyone has secrets, and I’d prefer to know as many of them as I can before they become problems.

There’s only one chest in the room, under his bed, and an extra cloak hanging on the wall. I kneel in front of the chest and open it. It mostly contains clothes, but at the bottom, I find a parcel of letters. I smile a little and flip through them.

A small cloth falls out onto my lap. I carefully pick it up to examine it. It’s a simple piece of felt— and inside, tightly sewn to it, is a dark lock of hair.

So our dear captain has a lover. I smirk and put it back, then turn back to the letters.

Strangely, they’re all from a John Carmen. I carefully open one and read it.

My dearest William,

It’s not cold here in Georgia, unlike the cold you describe up there in New York. I don’t envy you, but I do wish I was with you to keep you warm. I hope this letter can warm your soul, even if I cannot warm your side.

We march to battle soon. The British are pressing inland hard, and although he doesn’t say so, our captain is worried that we are outnumbered. Keep me in your prayers, if God has room in his heart for the likes of us. I may need them in the coming days.

This letter is cut short— my candle is all but gone, and they are scarce in camp. Tomorrow, at dawn, we march, if the rumors are true. I will give this letter to a farmer or some other townsfolk on the way, and hope that it reaches you safely.

I hope that I, too, will reach you safely too, one day not too long from now.

With all my love,

John Carmen

I carefully fold it back up and put it with the rest, searching for any documentation as to what’s happened to this John Carmen.

There’s one letter written in a different hand.

Dear Captain W. Lockland,

It is our sad duty to inform you that Private John Carmen was killed in a skirmish on July 17th, 1777. All his possessions have been sent with this notice, as he instructed prior to his death.

We are sorry to have had to bring this bad news to you. We trust that God will be with you in these trying times.

Captain Bradley Woolsworth

I close my eyes for a moment, the paper trembling in my hands. Don’t go there, Pearce… don’t…

I gently put the letters back beneath the clothes.

I hear the door close. I quietly shut the lid of the trunk with a sigh.

Captain Lockland stands in the door, watching me with solemn eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

“How much did you read?” he asks.

“Enough.” I look up to meet his eyes. “I really am sorry.”

He comes over and sits down on the cot.

“Enough…” He rubs his eyes. “Meaning, now I’m in your hands, I suppose.”

“Then let me even the scales.” I swallow hard. “Nathan Hale. You know the name?”

He frowns. “Of course.”

“We were all at Yale together. Nathan and Benjamin Tallmadge and others who threw themselves into the revolution.” I close my eyes. “When they hanged Nathan, I thought it would kill me.”

He lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry you lost a friend, too.”

“Let’s not play naive. I loved him. And you loved John.”

He flushes. “I was hoping that you hadn’t picked up on that. To have you confess that— you realize—”

“We’re both in each other’s hands.”

He swallows hard, then puts out his hand. I hesitantly take it and stand.

He shakes it.

“Thank you, Pearce.”

“I know loss,” I say quietly. “I’m not a good… helper. But I feel that I should tell you that if you ever want to talk about it…”

He lets out a little sob.

“There’s been no one.” He takes my hands again, this time clutching them tightly. “There’s been no one to talk to.”

“I’m sorry. I… I have someone. But she’s far away.”

“You have someone else who… knows?” he asks.

I nod. “I trust her.” I’d loved her, once, too. So much, I knew I needed to confess.

“I’ve never trusted anyone except for John,” he says. “And I learned John’s secret by accident.”

I give him a little smile. “Well. I suppose it’s good for us to get our own secrets out of the way before we start working as intimately as spies must.”

He smiles slightly.

“Anything else to confess?” he asks.

I hesitate. Yes. I have many things to confess. But any modicum of trust I’ve gained would immediately disappear if I told him. “Nothing of any consequence.”

“I snore,” he says, smiling a little more. “I have a terrible sense of humor. And—” He pauses.

I raise an eyebrow. “And?”

“You… have a very handsome chest.”

He stands and walks out.

Oh.

All right.

I don’t really know what to do with that information. So I just stand and go outside to try to… be a secretary.

***

Captain Lockland and I eat dinner together at a small table that he brings into his cabin for the two of us. It’s a nice dinner— or, at least, nicer than what the other soldiers get.

“So, this spy ring,” I say, sipping a glass of watered down beer. “What exactly are you looking for?”

“Observant, unobtrusive people,” he says. “We need more contacts. Especially in the city.”

I hesitate. “I… might know someone.”

He looks up at me. “Yes?”

“Her name is Anna. She lives in Brooklyn.”

“And is she trustworthy?”

“She’s a whore. So yes.”

He frowns. “How do those two correlate?”

I smirk. “You clearly haven’t spent enough time with them.”

He flushes.

“I’m not attracted to women.” He ducks his head. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“That’s no excuse. Wonderful people, especially if they know you don’t want sex. They see everything. Know the dirty secrets of officers, politicians, the like.”

He nods, considering.

“You have a point,” he says. “I’ve never considered that.”

“And they trust those who take care of them. I take care of Anna.”

“How do you take care of her?” he asks.

“I send her a portion of what I make.” I shrug. “Take the time to actually talk to her. She’s my best friend.”

Captain Lockland smiles. It’s one of the first genuine smiles I’ve seen out of him.

“She’s a good girl. She could be a good spy.” I push my food around my plate a little. I haven’t seen her in months… not since our last attempt at a fling. She hasn’t contacted me. I’ve tried not to think about it.

“Not hungry?” Captain Lockland asks.

I glance up. “Just thinking.”

“Anything I should know?”

I consider for a moment. “She won’t want to talk to you.”

“That’s fine. If she doesn’t know my name or face, she can’t betray me.” He shrugs. “If she’ll talk to you, that’s enough.”

I nod. We’ll just have to hope that she will talk to me. “It’s about a day out.”

“That’s fine. We don’t have to go at once.” He studies me, a smirk on his lips.

“What?”

“Just wondering.”

“Wondering what?”

“If you’ve ever been… you know.” He raises his eyebrows. “With a woman. With her.”

“Yes.” I meet his eyes. “I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

“Hm.” He sits back. “There’s a church down in Richmond. Has some paintings of angels. Only women I’ve ever seen without any clothes on.”

I chuckle. “So you’re a church boy, too.”

He smiles. “That’s right. Or I was. But now… I don’t know if God cares for the likes of me.” His eyes grow distant. “But I— I think He must care for John.”

I nod silently.

“John always said that He must.” He looks back down at his food.

“I’ve never spent much time considering it,” I say quietly.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it.”

“That’s your problem, I think.”

“What, that I think too much? You wouldn’t be the first to say so.” He finishes his food.

I finish my own meal in silence. “I can set out tomorrow.”

“I’d like to come with you,” he says. “Even if I can’t talk to her, there’s some scouting I want to do.”

I shrug. “If you wish.”

“Thank you.”

I nod, then stand. “I might turn in. It’s a long sail.”

He nods. “Goodnight, Pearce.”

I hesitate, then smile at him. “Goodnight, Lockland.”

“William.” He stands and walks over to his cot, pulling off his shirt. I turn away to undress myself, then crawl into bed and blow out the candle on the nightstand.