Oops, possibly ‘delicate condition’ was the wrong phrase to use. The last thing they needed were rumours of a Ducal pregnancy. Still, it sparked up a gossipy gleam in Armand’s eye before he returned to his default state of ‘huffy and offended’. ‘The Duchessa does not have a personal secretary,’ he said, at least having the discretion to speak quietly so that the ministers could not hear their discussion.
‘She does now,’ Delphine shot back, arching her neck and looking down her nose at him. Ha, he thought he could beat her at this game? ‘She hired me this morning, in the presence of the Ducomte Xandelian. He will vouch for me. As will Lady Camellie and her daughters,’ she added, using one of Velody’s recent clients and her own knowledge of Great Families gossip to best effect.
‘Interesting how the Duchessa became indisposed so soon after your appointment,’ hissed Armand. ‘How convenient for you, Mistress Vittorine.’
Delphine sighed. This idiot wouldn’t let himself be fooled easily. She was going to have to go to greater effort. ‘What exactly is it that you think I might be trying to hide here, Seigneur Armand? What is the greatest fear of the Palazzo servants since the Duchessa made her announcement about cancelling the Sacred Games?’
The reign of the mad Duc had ended only a little over a year ago. It was unlikely any of the servants and ministers had forgotten in a hurry what it had been like.
Armand’s eyes widened painfully. ‘Our lady is not …’ His voice broke on the words. Interesting. He genuinely cared about the Duchessa. That should come in handy. ‘Is not seriously unwell?’ he added in a rush of a whisper.
‘No,’ Delphine said gently. ‘Her dottore does not believe this current malaise is anything more than exhaustion, caused by her devotion to her new duties over the last few months. But you understand the need for discretion. Rumours that this is more than a brief illness could be greatly damaging to our lady’s reputation among the City Fathers.’
Armand was buying it, nodding repeatedly. ‘The Ducomte knows of this? And Lady Eglantine?’
Oh, hells. One sniff of the Duchessa’s mother, and the game was up. ‘The Duchessa is desperate to conceal her exhaustion from Lady Eglantine,’ Delphine said hastily. ‘She is worried that … her mother will use this as an excuse to usurp some of her duties or …’ Think, Delphine, think. What were the most common rumours about the Duchessa and her mother? ‘Or that she will push a marriage upon her sooner than she wishes. If we can just buy her a few days, she will be grateful to everyone who aids her in this endeavour.’
If they needed more than a few days then … well, Ashiol bloody Xandelian could come and personally kiss the arses of the servants. Delphine would provide the lip balm.
Almost all the lines of suspicion had been erased from Armand’s face. Delphine used her blue eyes and pretty face as shamelessly as she dared, along with a deep confiding tone. ‘Only the Duchessa’s most trusted servants are to know the truth, Armand. I need you to assure me that this will go no further — although perhaps you can let me know who else we will need to bring into our confidence.’
Oh, and he was sold. Really, Delphine should twist men around her finger for a living. She was bloody spectacular at it.
‘If I can help the Duchessa in any way, I shall,’ Armand promised eagerly.
Thank frig for that. ‘Please, convey our lady’s apologies to the ministers and arrange a later appointment.’
Armand nodded. ‘After the Ides?’
‘The very thing,’ said Delphine, as if she cared what actual date they picked. ‘The Duchessa shall most certainly be returned to her usual self by then.’ If Kelpie hadn’t knifed her or anything.
Armand swept away, making far better excuses to the City Fathers than Delphine could ever have come up with. She returned to the others exhausted, as if she had been dancing all nox.
The Duchessa sat with her back against the pillows on the bed, her body stiff and her eyes glowing black. Kelpie perched near her, the gleam of her skysilver knife reflecting patterns against the silken wall hangings, and her nose bruising up nicely.
‘So,’ said Delphine. ‘What do we do now?’
‘I’m thinking of slicing that dress off her,’ Kelpie muttered. ‘Piece by piece.’
The Duchessa preened, stretching her neck. The black web pattern reached almost to her chin. ‘Do you really think the dress still has an influence over me? I am becoming.’
‘Becoming what?’ Kelpie asked.
‘True,’ the Duchessa said sweetly. ‘Real. Here.’
‘We could just kill her,’ Livilla said. ‘Listening to anything from the sky is dangerous. That’s the first thing we are taught as courtesi. Never let your guard down, never take your eyes off them, do whatever damage you can. Killing her makes the most sense.’
Kelpie looked impatient. ‘Yes, I can just see you explaining that to Ashiol.’
‘Ashiol hasn’t done me any favours lately. None of you have.’ Livilla lifted one slender shoulder, looking just as weary as Delphine felt. ‘My boys died, and no one cares but me. I want revenge.’
The Duchessa laughed, a low and deliberate sound.
‘Shut your face,’ Livilla hissed. ‘They were mine. You had no right.’
‘It’s not like she did it,’ Delphine said, losing sympathy for Livilla as quickly as she had acquired it.
‘Don’t be an idiot,’ said Livilla. ‘If the thing inside her is the same thing inside Priest, then that’s exactly what murdered my boys.’ She leaned in, staring at the Duchessa. ‘Noxcrawl doesn’t have a voice. It doesn’t have needs or wants, and it sure as frig doesn’t have a sense of humour. You are not noxcrawl. You’re something else, something from the sky.’
The Duchessa smiled cruelly. ‘Nothing but dust.’
‘Shut up. If you can’t say anything useful, hold your tongue.’
‘We could cut it out,’ Kelpie said, as if seriously considering that option.
Livilla smiled. ‘Her tongue? Good plan.’
Delphine was really not used to being the most sensible person in the room.
It was dark by the time Ashiol returned to the Eyrie to find it empty, and a message scrawled on the door in Livilla’s bright cosmetick. TOOK THE LADY HOME. That was all he fucking needed.
He made his way back to the Palazzo. Apparently he was never going to get away from this place. Armand, that limp lettuce leaf of a factotum, gave Ashiol an oddly deferential nod of the head as he approached the Duchessa’s rooms. There was a story there, but damned if he cared what it was.
He could still feel the sensation of being wingless, and it made him stop several times to check he still had arms. That, and he was constantly distracted by thoughts of Velody, her swollen mouth and big grey eyes, and the heat of her skin under his hands.
There were several reasons why he had needed a drink or two before he got to the Palazzo. Luckily all the bars in the area had a tab running for him. He kept forgetting to carry money.
In Isangell’s rooms, Ashiol was greeted by the sight of Livilla and Delphine tangled on the couch like kittens, both fast asleep. Strange bedfellows, indeed. Kelpie was alert and sitting on the edge of Isangell’s bed. She gave him a look that wasn’t entirely friendly. ‘Come to clear up this mess?’
‘Got here as fast as I could,’ he said glibly. Kelpie was a mess. Her hair was all over the place, and she was badly bruised across the face. ‘You didn’t have to come here.’
‘Shut up, Ash. You don’t know anything.’ She looked him over. ‘You’re all right now?’
He nodded impatiently, his attention on Isangell. She was sweating, her skin shiny and damp as she muttered in her sleep. The noxcrawl web had made its way over half her face. Someone had bound her to the bed. Kelpie, probably, though he recalled that Livilla was good with knots.
‘Do you know how to fix this?’ Kelpie blurted. ‘We can’t keep standing watch over her. They’re going to find out.’
‘Yes,’ he said heavily. ‘I know how.’
A few drops of Kelpie’s blood would drive the noxcrawl from Isangell; turn her back into the mortal she was supposed to be. But the thought of it revolted him. Priest belonged to the Creature Court, at least. This was part of the life he had signed up for. But Isangell … Ashiol had never wanted his world to touch her. Had never wanted his rosy daylight cousin to be tainted by the nox. Look at her now.
Not only her. They had all been ravaged by the sky one way or another, and in broad daylight. Hel — what the saints had happened to Hel? No one had seen her since she ran away from Velody’s house. Ashiol had half forgotten about her while everything was such a mess, but looking down at Isangell’s vulnerable body, it was Hel he was thinking about. She was so certain she was going to die. The last Seer had taken his own life. Might Heliora go that far?
The sky had never had a voice before. It had never sent warnings. It had never crept into their daylight lives on such a large scale. The Creature Court were hurt and wounded, and none of them could trust each other any more.
Except Velody. For some reason, they all trusted Velody, even the ones who didn’t like her. She was on their side, and that meant that it wasn’t only the enemy’s rules that were changing. The sky had always been something to be battled and feared, to protect yourself from. Something to fight. But Ashiol had never seen the sky as an intelligent foe. The thought that there might be a mind behind the attacks, some kind of guiding force enjoying the damage it did to them … it sickened him.
Ashiol sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You. Wake up. Now.’ Isangell was sluggish to respond, her eyelids fluttering open, and that made him angry all over again. ‘What are you?’ he demanded.
She smiled a sleepy, un-Isangell smile. (Thank fuck at least that the wench who had tried to seduce him was not actually his cousin — was it too much to hope she would remember none of this?) ‘We are the worst thing you can imagine, son of Ducs. You are the last of your kind, because we shall make it so.’
‘Don’t listen to it,’ Kelpie said. ‘It’s trying to poison your mind. It’s been working on the three of us all day, trying to turn us against each other.’ She managed a wavery smile. ‘Luckily we didn’t like each other that much to begin with.’
Ashiol glared down at the creature inside his cousin. ‘Why her? Why this body?’
‘Only she had the power,’ said the thing inside Isangell.
‘She has no power of the nox,’ he raged. ‘She has nothing you want!’
The not-Isangell just giggled, and stretched her body.
‘I’m going to need your blood,’ Ashiol told Kelpie.
Kelpie rolled up her sleeve without a word, without even a pause. That was loyalty.
The Isangell-thing twisted, and pulled against her bonds. ‘Do what you like to the meat,’ it howled. ‘We are dust and you cannot deny us. We will swallow you!’
Kelpie let blood trickle down her wrist, into her palm, then knelt over the Duchessa in businesslike fashion. ‘We’re tough,’ she said grimly, and pressed her bloody hand over Isangell’s nose and mouth. ‘We come with gristle.’
Ashiol had to look away. He was usually immune to the casual horrors of the Creature Court. But the sight of Kelpie forcing her own blood into Isangell’s mouth was more than he could stand.
There was a commotion in the other room. ‘I don’t know who you trollops think you are, but I demand to see my daughter right now.’
‘Holy fuck,’ said Ashiol. ‘Aunt Eglantine.’
Now they were in trouble.
16.
Velody had napped in her chair for an hour or two, but not enough to feel rested. There had been a lot of that lately. The daylight adventures were harder on her than the nox.
She awoke in darkness, and slowly she realised that Crane was there, seated on the other side of the workroom. ‘I don’t think I can do this any more,’ she said quietly.
‘Of course you can,’ he said, as if he never had any doubt. ‘You’re doing so well.’
‘The Creature Court has been haemorrhaging people since I started this,’ she said. ‘Don’t any of you blame me for that? I’m supposed to be your leader.’ The very idea was laughable.
‘The Lords barely even used to speak to each other,’ said Crane. ‘I think they were afraid to. Poet would never have begged for Priest’s life when Garnet or Ortheus were in charge. He wouldn’t have thought of it. He just would have mourned, afterwards. They would never have hesitated to believe Warlord was responsible. More of them would be dead, without the changes you have made.’
Velody wanted to argue with him, to point out the mistakes she had made, but then she remembered Livilla and Warlord using their blood to save Ashiol. ‘You think I make a difference?’ she asked finally. ‘Because they’re not afraid of me?’
‘I think you’re the only chance we have to act like human beings instead of pawns and performers,’ said Crane. ‘If you can’t see the difference you’ve made, you have to trust that we can see it.’
‘I don’t think I trust anyone,’ said Velody. Least of all herself, after what her hands had wrought. ‘Not any more. There’s no ground under my feet.’
‘Trust me,’ said Crane. Oh, so certain. So young. What would she do without him? ‘We are doing better than we were. You are our salvation, Velody. We couldn’t survived another reign of Garnet. Keep going.’
She reached out wordlessly and took his hand, squeezing it for a moment. The moment passed, and perhaps he was expecting something more of her, but she had little to give.
Besides, she was needed elsewhere.
Velody left Crane downstairs and went slowly up to her bedroom.
Shivery darts crossed the sky, flickers of light and colour. Sure signs that something was waking up out there. She didn’t know what kind of battle it would be — a light cloud skirmish or something far more epic and bloody.
‘I don’t care,’ she told the mice that lined themselves up on her mantel, gazing at her. ‘Really, I don’t. I need sleep more than I need to prove myself in battle all over again.’
But she climbed out the window anyway.
Ashiol emerged from Isangell’s bedroom, his hands still damp from a frantic visit to Isangell’s washstand to remove the evidence of blood. ‘Aunt Eglantine, how are you?’
Isangell’s mother was almost purple with rage. ‘Ashiol, what game is this? Get rid of these drabs and bring me my daughter.’
Delphine mouthed the word ‘drabs’ as if she couldn’t quite believe it. Livilla was amused, which was a good thing considering she was quite capable of killing Eglantine with a hatpin if the urge took her.
‘She is sleeping,’ said Ashiol. It was true, he hoped; the last thing he had done before slipping out here was to push a large vial of nettlebane at Kelpie and suggest she pour half of it down the Duchessa’s throat. ‘She didn’t want to admit it to you, Aunt Eglantine, but she has been unwell.’
‘So Armand informed me,’ Eglantine said in a chilly voice.
(That rat, Delphine hissed to Livilla.)
‘She will be perfectly well,’ Ashiol said defensively. ‘The dottore said she only needed a few days’ rest …’
‘Ah, the mythical dottore,’ Eglantine said between her teeth. ‘Isangell has been attended by the same dottore for years, and he knows nothing of this new condition. Exactly who do you think you are, to take these matters upon yourself, boy?’
Ashiol could hear every epithet she left unsaid. He had heard them from her lips before. He knew what they saw — all of them, the whole family — when they looked at him. They saw the feckless black goat of the Ducal family, who had been exiled once for his chaotic and unreliable behaviour. Tidied away to the country, where he could do no more damage to the family reputation with his wicked ways.
‘I am the Duchessa’s chosen consort,’ he declared, infusing his words with animor. It would have little effect on his aunt, who was the most daylight creature he had ever known, but it gave him extra strength and resonance.
/> Aunt Eglantine went redder in an instant. ‘You are not,’ she bellowed. ‘You dare presume …’
‘I am not the one who presumes,’ Ashiol thundered. ‘You cling to the hem of your daughter’s skirts in the hopes that we — the rightful Ducal family of Aufleur — do not remember that you have no power here. You married a man who was never Duc, and his family have allowed you to remain here entirely at Isangell’s charity. You may have your spies and toadies here in this Palazzo, but you are not and never shall be Xandelian.’ A speech along those lines had been bubbling under his skin for some time now.
There was no explosion. Eglantine merely twisted her mouth as if she had sipped a tisane with too much lemon. ‘You really are Augusta’s son, aren’t you?’ she said.
‘Never doubt it,’ Ashiol grated.
‘I trust my daughter will make room for a discussion with me on the first day she is able to resume her public duties.’
‘I am assured so,’ said Ashiol. Was that it? Was she actually going to let him get away with this?
‘Well, then. I shall take my leave of you, Seigneur Ducomte.’ And may you choke on it, her icy tone suggested, though she was giving him his way.
‘Phew,’ said Delphine, when Aunt Eglantine had finally sailed out of the parlour. ‘That went better than expected.’
‘You’re telling me,’ said Ashiol. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or suspicious that she had backed down so quickly. What would her next move be?
‘You are rather glorious when you shout, my cat,’ said Livilla with a slow smile.
‘Nice to know.’
Kelpie came out of the bedroom. ‘Dragon gone, is she?’
‘Oh, she’ll be back. But that’s a mess I’ll leave for the Duchessa to sort out.’ Possibly announcing he was to be Isangell’s official consort was something of a political disaster. But with luck Eglantine would be so horrified by the whole concept that Isangell politely letting her know it wasn’t true would be enough to keep her quiet.
‘You’re just the best cousin ever,’ said Kelpie. ‘She’s breathing well, if you’re interested. The noxcrawl isn’t visible anywhere on her skin. Which is just as well, considering.’
The Shattered City Page 21
