‘I’m not anyone’s prey,’ Odi snapped, his amber eyes filled with determination.
Roh toyed with the bones of the necklace she wore. ‘Not for the next few moons you’re not.’
Odi’s nostrils flared, but he continued. ‘Those two …’ He nodded to the Haertel couple. ‘I was lost when they found me. They brought me to the cage where the others were already trapped —’
Odi fell silent as a hand reached between them and touched Roh’s shoulder. Tutor Bellfast gazed into her face, seeking recognition.
‘Fledgling, do I know you?’ the teacher asked. ‘You look familiar to me.’
Roh took a much-needed sip of her sparkling wine. ‘You taught me as a nestling, Tutor Bellfast. I was in your lessons for melody and history. I’m Rohesia.’
Her teacher nodded. ‘That’s right, Rohesia. I remember you now. You were more of a keen soloist than one for harmonies, if I recall correctly?’
Roh was grateful her tutor hadn’t mentioned their deathsong practice and how Roh, after hundreds of lessons, still hadn’t managed a single note.
‘That sounds like me,’ Roh said quietly, not wanting to encourage that particular direction of conversation.
However, Tutor Bellfast had already moved on and was running a critical gaze over Odi. ‘He’s not in bad shape, considering. I cannot believe this addition to the tournament. In all my years of studying and teaching, this is by far the most outlandish and complex stipulation.’
‘Where’s yours?’ Roh asked, brow furrowed as she scanned the crowd.
Her former teacher waved vaguely across the room. ‘Oh, somewhere over there, by the pastries.’
‘I’d keep a closer eye,’ Roh said, not taking her eyes from the human in question. The middle-aged woman sported some deep cuts on her forearms.
‘What?’ Tutor Bellfast appeared taken aback.
‘We had our first sabotage attempt a few moments ago,’ Roh explained, unsure why she was warning her competition. One human down would also mean one less cyren for her to beat in whatever trials awaited them. ‘Coral larkspur, in the wine,’ Roh offered.
The tutor’s lilac eyes filled with alarm. ‘Is that so?’ She beckoned frantically to her human, calling her over. The woman eyed Roh fearfully as she approached.
But Roh’s attention snagged on something else: a flicker of movement to her left. She glanced in time to see Odi slide a knife from the nearby table up his sleeve.
‘We’re well past your lessons, Rohesia,’ Tutor Bellfast was saying. ‘You may call me Arcelia. I’m sure —’
Arcelia’s words were drowned out by the loud strike of a cymbal. The sound cut through the chatter and the music, and only once it had finished echoing did the double doors open. Roh saw the wings first, dark and membranous, tucked tightly behind Queen Delja’s back as she stepped into the now-silent conservatory. She wore a flowing gown, the same shade of rose gold as the wine in Roh’s cup. Her midnight curls hung to her waist, and atop her head, the coral crown sat proudly, gems gleaming.
All around, cyrens dropped into low bows. Roh did the same, tugging Odi down with her. Bent at the waist, all she could see were the queen’s slippered feet and hem as she strode across the marble floor. She walked the length of the conservatory slowly, until she reached the end of the room, where she stepped up onto a small dais.
‘Rise, cyrens of Saddoriel.’ Roh swayed at the melodic sound of Queen Delja’s voice. She stood along with the rest of the crowd, her eager eyes seeking the queen, who was accepting a goblet of wine offered by a server, her dark talons out as she surveyed the party. She was magnificent. Power seemed to drip from her very being, and it wasn’t long before Taro and Bloodwyn Haertel were at her sides, the rest of the Council of Seven Elders loitering nearby, ready to have her ear. Roh watched the queen in awe. This was the cyren who was known as the youngest deathsong singer in their history, the cyren who had overthrown the fanatical king, Uniir the Blessed, the cyren who had single-handedly saved Saddoriel from insanity centuries before.
‘That’s your ruler?’ Odi whispered at Roh’s side.
Roh nodded. ‘Queen Delja. The first queen to ever reign over Talon’s Reach.’
‘Why does she have wings and you don’t?’
Roh sighed. ‘She was chosen by the goddesses.’ At her words, the queen’s lilac gaze snapped up and met Roh’s from across the room. Roh nearly grabbed Odi’s arm in shock. The intensity of her stare was tinged with a glimmer of recognition.
Roh tugged Odi’s sleeve. ‘Come, we’re staring.’ She led him to the other side of the room, carefully avoiding the highborn competitors and Neith, not wanting to create any sort of scene, especially now. With concentrated effort, Roh slowed her breathing, exhaling steadily through her nose as the music began to play once more and the conservatory came back to life.
As she drained the last of her wine, her stomach gurgled loudly. Odi threw her a sideways glance. A moment later, her insides shifted again, this time twisting painfully.
Gods, she thought, sniffing her wineglass. Have I failed to catch my own poison? She couldn’t smell anything around the rim of her glass, but that meant nothing now that she’d downed the whole drink. Sweat began to form at her brow and her stomach clenched in another agonising cramp.
‘We have to leave,’ she hissed in Odi’s direction. Her stomach whined again, rumbling inside her. ‘Now.’
‘Are you —’
Roh had to stop herself sprinting across the conservatory as cold sweats set in, sending shivers down her spine. Propriety be damned, she hiked up the fabric of her dress and rushed towards the doors. Odi was right behind her, and thank the gods for that, because she would have left him amongst the vipers in the state she was in. She raced through the tunnels, hand clapped over her mouth as she followed her inner compass desperately back to the Upper Sector residences.
How could I have been so stupid? At last, she burst into their rooms and threw herself towards the bathing chamber. She slammed the door shut behind her. If she was going to die, she wasn’t going to do it in front of the human.
You absolute fool, Rohesia, she cursed herself, collapsing on the cool tiles. You got so arrogant with Odi’s wine that you missed the poison in your own.
Nausea rolled through her, a massive wave hitting her right in the gut. Roh threw up on the floor. This was it. She was going to die, before she’d even heard what the first trial was. Before the queen had seen her compete, before she’d even made a dent in the competition. Some Saddorien cyren she had turned out to be.
Her stomach emptied onto the tiles again and she moaned, before letting the poison claim her.
Hours later, Roh peeled herself off the cold floor. She wasn’t dead. Although, she didn’t feel far from it. As she sat up, cringing at the mess on the tiles, it dawned on her: there had been no poison. It had been the rich, decadent food and sparkling wine. She should have known better. She wasn’t used to such gluttonous consumption. She did her best to clean the floor before rinsing out her mouth and splashing her face with water.
Roh emerged from the bathing chambers sheepishly.
From his bed, Odi watched her collapse onto hers. ‘Are you … alright?’
Roh inhaled shakily.
Odi didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘You … you detected the poison in my drink, but not your own?’
Roh found herself nodding weakly, her pride more injured now than her stomach. She wasn’t about to correct him, not for a thousand silver marks. She closed her eyes briefly. She needed to pull herself together, and fast. She had been foolish, oh so foolish. But she was allowed one mistake. This had been it. No more.
‘Roh?’ Odi asked. ‘How is it that you know my language?’
Roh didn’t bother opening her eyes. ‘We are taught many tongues when we are nestlings. It’s so we can sing our deathsong in whatever language our prey understands.’
The rustling of fabric sounded and Roh opened one eye. She saw a glint of silver.
Chapter Six
Roh dreamed of music, of elegant, refined notes dancing along her bones and filling her soul. Two fiddles in perfect harmony started out with soft, sweet chords only to build and build to an explosive crescendo. She thought she would burst, and never again feel so complete, so truly whole and herself. When she awoke, she could still hear the fiddles playing, and she realised with a start where she was: the Upper Sector, in the competitors’ quarters for the Queen’s Tournament.
From her lavish bed, she spotted an opened letter discarded on one of the gold-trimmed end tables. Frowning, she swung her legs from beneath the covers and padded across the room, snatching it up in her talons. It was the instructions from the council regarding the first trial. Her eyes snagged on several words that made her heart sink, but suddenly, she stopped reading. Skin prickling, she scanned the room.
Empty.
The door to the bathing chamber was ajar. She pushed it open.
Empty.
A ragged gasp of realisation escaped her. The damn fool. Her hands shook as she struggled into her clothes and yanked on her boots, not stopping to tie her laces. Her chest was tight as she shoved the torn envelope in her pocket. Doesn’t he know how much danger he’s in out there? She had to find him. With the council’s letter burning a hole in her jacket, she darted for the door and raced from the residences, not caring whom she woke in the process.
Odi, where are you? She wanted to scream it across the foyer, but the last thing she needed was her fellow competitors knowing her human was out on the loose – that was, unless they already had him.
The fiddles continued to play somewhere in the near distance, but for once, music offered Roh no comfort. She couldn’t have reached this point only to fail before the tournament began. She had not dreamed of this opportunity her whole life and cheated her friends to get here for nothing. She refused to accept that possibility. Roh ran the perimeter of the foyer, ignoring the startled cries of several highborn cyrens milling beneath the archways. All the while, the tantalising notes of the fiddles mocked her.
‘I know this song.’
With panic clenching an unforgiving fist around her heart, Roh raced towards the music, towards the song Odi supposedly knew, through the foyer and to the entrance and surrounding galleries of the Upper Sector.
The Great Hall. Her inner compass dragged her towards it and she at last found an opening. In the shadows, she nearly fell to her knees.
There he was, at the centre of the hall, standing before a cage of bones, peering inside. Behind the bars were two human men, fiddles tucked beneath their chins. With their knees bent, they swayed in time with the melody, their muscular arms guiding their bows across the strings. It was the music from her dreams. It was even more beautiful here, the sound bouncing from the hall’s cylindrical walls and echoing in the light-filled domes. The notes wrapped around Roh, like the currents of the sea did when she dived deep into its waters. She stood transfixed. She had never seen music in the flesh before, never watched as a master, or masters, created a soul-changing sound from practically nothing. The fiddles played complementary melodies, rising and falling with each other, shifting from a slow, joyful pace to double-time, peaking at a sorrowful climax.
Movement from Odi broke her reverie. He pressed himself close against the bars of the cage, but Roh was too far away to see what he was doing, or hear what he was saying. It looked like he was talking to the musicians, as though sharing information. She approached on light feet now, determined to catch a snippet of conversation, but the human musicians saw her, both taking a step back within the cage, alerting Odi to her presence. He whirled around, eyes wide.
‘Do you have any idea what could have happened to you without me?’ she hissed as she reached him, a taloned hand clamping around his forearm.
‘I … I just …’
‘You just nothing. You aren’t safe out here. Do you understand that?’ As she spoke, Roh’s gaze fell to the lock of the cage. A jewelled hairpin from her chambers was sticking out, its gems glinting in the enchanted light. As realisation dawned, she inhaled hotly, her grip tightening on Odi’s arm as she turned to him, only to then notice a rucksack – her rucksack – at his feet.
‘How far did you think you would get?’ she asked quietly, allowing the fury to surge through her veins. Her talons threatened to pierce his soft skin.
Colour bloomed on Odi’s cheeks. ‘I —’
‘The only way you’ll ever leave Saddoriel alive is if we win this tournament. Do you hear me?’
Odi looked at the ground, shifting from foot to foot while the musicians continued to play – Roh guessed they knew better than to stop. They watched her closely, their bodies rigid, as though expecting her to pounce on Odi.
‘You know them,’ she said to him, matter-of-factly.
‘Everyone knows them,’ he allowed. ‘They’re the Eery Brothers. They’re famous throughout our realm, the best fiddlers in our lands.’
‘And you thought by springing them free and miraculously returning them to their own territory that you’d earn some quick coin?’
‘No, I —’
Roh cut him off with a shake of her head. Famous … She supposed the men were attractive, by human standards, at least, and the way they stood, despite their obvious fear, with their chests puffed out and their backs straight, gave them the confidence of performers. Their bows continued to draw expertly across the strings of the fiddles, birthing a melody that was melancholy, resigned to its own finality. The notes were long and rich, full of a yearning that Roh recognised in herself. The musicians’ elegant fingers danced across the strings, creating wordless poetry, a whorl of invention that settled deep in Roh’s chest. Music poured from the fiddles’ hollows. The notes held, arresting, spiralling upwards. Both players hunched over their instruments, eyes now closed as they rocked back and forth with the intensity of their song —
‘What are you doing?’ a male voice cut through the music like a honed blade. ‘You have no business interfering with property of the Jaktaren.’
Roh whirled around to see Finn Haertel charging towards them, his crossbow gleaming at his back. For a split second, the music behind her faltered and Roh swept the rucksack from the ground and shouldered it, pulling Odi closer to her side as Finn stormed up to them. Though Roh was tall, Finn was taller and seemed to tower over her as he glared down.
‘I said, what are you doing?’ he demanded.
Roh fought the instinct to shrink away, and she met his hard gaze. ‘That’s none of your concern.’
‘It’s my concern when you’re loitering around two of Saddoriel’s most prized possessions.’
‘We’re not loitering.’ Roh spat the words. ‘We’re passing through.’
But Finn’s eyes roamed over her, the bag at her shoulder, her forced expression of neutrality. They lingered on her loose bootlaces, before scanning the bars of the cage.
The hairpin, she realised with a jolt. This is bad. Very, very bad. He’s going to think … Roh forced herself to remain still. Finn’s view of the lock was obstructed by Odi, but it was only a matter of moments before the Jaktaren moved closer and discovered the escape attempt, in which she was now entangled. To make matters worse, Odi was fidgeting incessantly, drawing more attention to himself. Finn took a step forward.
‘Is it true?’ she asked, nudging Odi aside and taking his place in front of the lock. She turned to face the musicians, as though she were studying them.
‘Is what true?’
She placed her hands on the bars, pretending to rest against them, praying to Dresmis and Thera that Finn couldn’t see the talon of her smallest finger unsheathe and inch towards the hairpin. She could sense him getting closer, and hear the breath escaping his lips. ‘That you’ve sing
le-handedly brought fifteen musicians back to Saddoriel this month alone?’
She heard him pause. Just as her talon dislodged the pin.
‘No,’ he said slowly.
In one swift motion, Roh swiped the pin from the lock and spun around to face Finn expectantly.
He eyed her warily. ‘That was Yrsa.’
His partner. ‘Oh.’
The Jaktaren gave the cage, Roh and Odi one final scan and turned on his heel. ‘Keep away from here.’
Roh waited until he was out of sight before she rounded on Odi. ‘Do you know what you could have cost me just now? Do you know what could have happened to you?’ She wanted to shove him, to slash him with her talons. She wanted to instil in him the shard of fear that throbbed in her own heart.
But Odi had returned his gaze to the empty lock and the musicians within the cage of bones. ‘What will happen to them?’
‘They will play their music until they have no more to give.’
‘But —’
Rage still coursed through her as she clutched the hairpin. She considered driving it into his stupid neck. ‘Enough,’ she snapped. ‘They belong to Saddoriel now.’
Something dangerous must have flashed in her eyes, because the human fell silent.
Roh pulled the council’s letter from her pocket and shoved it into his chest. ‘We have bigger problems,’ she said. ‘Did you read this?’
Odi pushed her hands and the parchment back gently. ‘I couldn’t understand a word of it.’
‘It’s the instructions regarding the first trial,’ she murmured, re-reading the few lines.
‘Are you going to tell me what these trials are about at last? Why I’m your gods-damned prisoner?’ The words came out thick and fast as the human eyed her exposed talons warily, but he stood his ground.
Roh stared at him, finding herself strangely pleased. At last, the boy had shown some backbone. This was the sort of human she would need by her side throughout the games ahead. She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘Very well,’ she said.
A Lair of Bones Page 9
