Citadel of the Sky (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 1)

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  “Take a rest, Lisette,” Tiana called as she dropped the pendant on a table and hurried into the dressing closet. She pulled a dusky rose walking gown over her head, and washed her face and feet. Then she peered at herself in the mirror. Her morning’s makeup was beyond salvaging, so she washed it off. She spread a drop of lavender oil through her hair with her fingers, followed it up with a comb. Then she sat down to lace up her city boots.

  They were her favorite boots, made of tan calfskin with silken laces. There were nine pairs of eyelets up the front and six up the inside calf. She got her left front entirely laced before she realized that she’d missed an eyelet, which left the pairs askew. She took a deep breath and relaced. After a second time through, she paused and stared at the lacing, trying to decide if she’d done it correctly this time. She only counted eight pairs. Where had the ninth one gone?

  It had to be close to seven. She didn’t have time to get confused about how her boots went on. She laced up the inside left eyelets and realized she was using the wrong set of laces. It couldn’t be helped. Right boot on.

  She stared at her hands. They seemed like normal hands. Why couldn’t she do normal tasks? She pulled her fingers away from the laces and wiggled them. Ribbons of emanation appeared, and she stared, fascinated, as the tendrils tied the laces into knots.

  The clock in Starset tolled. Tiana jumped and realized she’d been staring at her hands for far too long. Lisette appeared at the dressing room door. “Did you change your mind?”

  “No! It’s these boots. They’re complicated.” Tiana put her hands over her face and then dropped them, steadfastly ignoring an old, familiar shame.

  Lisette knelt in front of her. “Untie the knots.” Obediently, Tiana wiggled her fingers again, and an emanation pulled the knots apart. Then, swiftly, Lisette laced up both boots.

  “It’s just been a long day,” Tiana said, watching Lisette’s hands fly.

  Lisette stood up again when she was done. “You can run, if you’d like.”

  Tiana hesitated. “No. I don’t want to leave you behind. Let’s just walk. Very quickly.”

  They hurried through the Palace. There was an excellent sunset visible from the conservatory on the west wall, but the crimson rays streaking across the slopes of the mountain Sel Sevanth just made Tiana even more agitated. She was late, and she was very conscious of the two guards behind her. Her friends at the theater would not be comfortable. Maybe her escort could stay outside.

  Emerging from the Palace, she was abruptly reminded that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. A cart nearby was selling stuffed pastries to some pilgrims, and they smelled heavenly. “Did you have lunch while I was sleeping, Lisette?”

  Lisette shook her head. “Just a snack.”

  Tiana revised her earlier decision. “That won’t do. Here, pick up some pastries for us, and meet me at the theater. I’ll go on ahead, so I’m not even later.”

  Lisette looked grateful. “Yes, of course.”

  Tiana was pleased she didn’t argue. “Make sure to get some bean sauce!” Then she held up her skirt and ran. There was a reason she loved her city boots, even if they were complicated to lace up.

  Alone, she hurried down Brief Street and through the remnants of the Silk Market as it closed for the day. Grey bunting hung from many of the shops to honor the passing of the Crown Regent, but business carried on as usual. Many city folk recognized her and called out greetings, pulling their children and carts out of her way when they realized she was in a hurry. She smiled at them as she passed. A group of mounted nobles pulled their mounts to a halt, and their greetings were far cooler. She smiled at them as well. Lisette said it always helped to smile.

  The Small-light District, south of the Silk Market and west of the Spice Market, was home to half a dozen theaters, but Tiana’s favorite was the Let It Spin. It was a new building, constructed in Tiana’s lifetime, and she’d watched every show put on its oval stage. The jointed dancer of bronze spun on its roof in the hot evening.

  She’d been invited on backstage tours, and even once held a party for the luminaries of the Small-light District, but it was only this year that she’d actually been invited to help make the magic happen. Her favorite director was putting on a new show by a popular playwright, and the owner of the theater had invited Tiana to be a producer.

  She was still learning what was involved with being a producer, so the owner of the theater handled most of the details. But she was having a grand time sharing her opinions on costumes and sets, and she was pleased to help offset the costs of a first-rate production.

  She pushed open one of the double doors and slipped through the lobby into the theater. There was a rehearsal in progress. The director, Maidre, was standing before the stage, watching. Deneris, the playwright, and Baxer, the theater’s owner, were sitting halfway back, on the tier with the comfortable seats. She seated herself in the row behind them.

  “Your Highness,” said Baxer, leaning back to greet her. He was younger than her uncle Yithiere, with thinning, dirty blond hair. “We didn’t expect to see you here today. And without your lady? However did you escape her?”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I had to come today. I’ve missed so much.” She shook her head. “Lisette will be along.”

  Deneris tapped a finger against his mustache and said, “We’re all bereft by the loss of the Crown Regent. We’ve had no shows at all since the news, so that our players could honor him. Maidre insisted on today’s rehearsal.”

  Tiana looked down, uncomfortable. “That’s perfectly understandable. How is the show going?” She tried to focus on the stage. It was lit by both a chandelier and a row of small lamps along its base, partially hidden behind a dark veil. “That’s not our star, is it?”

  Deneris sounded tired. “No. That’s someone new. One of the little dramas you missed. Our girl Chenye has gone off to visit a sick sister in the hinterlands. Maidre was not pleased.”

  Baxer chuckled. “Told Chenye she’d never star in a show again.” He always seemed to find the interactions between the luminaries of the Small-light District amusing.

  Tiana watched the rehearsal for a few minutes. “She’s not very good, is she? I don’t know her.”

  “Just fell off the vegetable cart last week,” said Baxer cheerfully. “In the right place at the right time. Maidre aims to show Chenye a thing or two.” Judging from her tone of voice, Maidre was just as unhappy with the new actress’s performance.

  Tiana leaned back again, wondering if there’d need to be a costume change. The new actress had a farm girl tan that wouldn’t go with the ivory gown Tiana had paid for. She tapped her thumbs together, considering. Leaf-green, perhaps?

  Someone sat down next to her. It wasn’t Lisette. After a moment, Tiana realized it was the vanishing woman from the phantasmagory. Her arms rested on the wooden panels that divided the comfortable seats, and she sat back, but her head was turned towards Tiana. Her eyes were black from rim to rim, and she had no expression.

  Tiana squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. The woman sat there still when she opened her eyes. Her astonishingly long hair fell over the back of the seat and pooled on the floor behind her, and she was wearing a high-necked, plum-colored gown. Tiana leaned forward, and the woman’s head turned to follow her.

  It was just stress. Sometimes, when the Blood was overstressed, they saw things that weren’t really there. Everyone knew it. She couldn’t control it, but she could control her reaction. She wanted to be different, and if she could make other people think she was different, that was practically the same thing.

  So she set her jaw and said, “How are the theater modifications coming along?”

  Baxer gave her a sidelong glance. “Reasonably well, although—” he shook his head.

  “What? Please, tell me.”

  He crooked a smile. “The lights are always a problem. Blaine talks about what we could do with some inscribed lights, the ones that don’t use fire. Like those at the Pala
ce.”

  Tiana sat back again. “Oh, is that all? The Magister of Niyhani brings us a new supply every year when he visits for Antecession. I’m sure I can get a few then. They wear out, you know.”

  Baxer looked surprised. “Well… that’s very kind of you, Your Highness.”

  Deneris frowned and said, “We don’t need them, Baxer. You shouldn’t—”

  The door to the lobby opened and closed, and she heard the soft voice of Lisette telling the guards to wait there.

  “No, no, it’s fine,” said Tiana hastily. “I can see the advantage. It’ll be splendid.”

  Then Lisette sat down beside Tiana, in the seat occupied by the phantasmagory woman. “What will be splendid?” She passed Tiana a wrapped pastry.

  It was still warm, but Tiana’s appetite fled at the sight of Lisette overlapping the ghost. There was the glint of bone at the intersection of flesh and ghost.

  Baxer said, “The show, Your Ladyship. Her Highness’s assistance guarantees it will be like nothing the District has seen before.”

  Suspiciously, Lisette said, “Do I need to sign another letter of credit? Producing a play is far more expensive than I expected.”

  “No, no,” said Deneris, giving Baxer another frown. “No, we’re doing just fine.”

  Tiana risked a look up. The ghost was still overlapping Lisette. She couldn’t bear it. She pushed the pastry back into Lisette’s hands. Then she extended a single finger of emanation and poked the ghost, trying to scrape the hallucination off Lisette. After a moment, a spark of white flared in the ghost’s eyes, and she vanished entirely.

  Tiana released the emanation and blew out her breath. Only then did she realize that Baxer was carefully looking away, while Deneris was staring in open concern. Horror flooded through her as she realized what she’d done. She opened and closed her mouth, unable to even imagine any reasonable explanation other than what they’d seen with their own eyes: Tiana using her magic to poke Lisette. She lowered her gaze as tears filled her eyes, blinking rapidly to keep them from falling.

  Lisette put her hand on Tiana’s own, a silent, comforting gesture. Deneris said kindly, “You’ve had a terrible week. I imagine the Crown Regent must have been like a second father to you.”

  “Everybody’s very frightened ‘round these parts. Wondering where a fiend might appear next,” said Baxer.

  “I assume by ‘round these parts,’ you mean in the taverns,” said Lisette, her voice cool.

  Why does she disapprove of them so? But the thought drowned under the ocean of grief that Deneris’s words had unveiled. Not her second father, but half her father, and he was gone, in a burst of strange and horrific violence. He would not be there tomorrow to hear about the fight between Maidre and her star. He was gone.

  The phantasmagory called her to go and weep among her memories, but she had never, never, gone into the phantasmagory while at the theater. But if she didn’t— The lump in her throat was growing larger. Lisette and the others were talking, but their words were just a buzz. The sobs were going to escape, no matter what she did. There was just no way to stop them and why should she? Tomas was gone. How could a play compete with that? How could an entire theater district?

  She stood up. Lisette was standing, as well. “I have to leave,” Tiana explained, blinking rapidly, holding a hand in front of her mouth. “I do miss him, very much. I have to go.” Then she was running out of the theater.

  No matter what, she had embarrassed herself. But Tomas mattered more. She’d find his killer, and maybe that would let the show go on.

  Chapter 5

  The Geometry of Truth

  Kiar wasn’t surprised when Tiana didn’t knock on her door until late in the morning. Her cousin was not traditionally a morning person. She much preferred to stay up late indulging her taste for fairy tales and melodramatic plays.

  Still, Kiar was surprised to see the dark circles under Tiana’s eyes. Lisette, beside her, looked ragged. It wasn’t that Kiar expected Tiana to have slept well after the day before. It was that both princess and Regent were far more concerned with appearances than Kiar could ever manage to be. That they’d emerged in any kind of disarray was unsettling.

  Tiana silently held up the Royal Pendant.

  Kiar observed, “You look exhausted.”

  Tiana only said, “It was a long night,” and tucked the pendant into the sash around her waist.

  Kiar reached out and took Tiana’s hand, letting a sympathetic squeeze say what she couldn’t quite put into words. Yesterday was so very hard. Tiana was a dreamer who refused to face reality unless forced to, but they’d grown up together, and Kiar cared for her more than she could say.

  Then she turned away. “Here, I’ll get the box. I’ve been studying it. I think it’s been worn smooth through use, somebody touching it over and over.” She folded a crimson piece of silk around the bone box and picked it up.

  She considered inquiring after Tiana’s show, but she always took her cues on social encounters from Lisette, and Lisette was very quiet this morning as well. All she said was, “Jerya, Iriss, and the King are in the Southern Solar this morning.”

  Violin music drifted out of the ajar doors of the solar. It was a small room, crowded with far more chairs and tables and music stands than Kiar preferred. She did enjoy the three large windows overlooking the Justiciar’s Courtyard, though. At the moment, one of them was blocked by several of the King’s eidolons, and the second was hidden behind the bulk of the Royal Music Master. The guards assigned to Iriss, the Crown Princess’s Regent, were sitting on the edge of chairs, but sprang to their feet when Kiar opened the doors.

  Iriss played a viola, while Jerya and King Shonathan played violins. Kiar recognized the remembrance hymn “Memory Moon.” It was traditionally performed at the Mymoria celebration at the end of the year.

  The Royal Music Master turned around as “Memory Moon” completed and immediately focused on Tiana. “It’s Her Serene Highness! My dear, have you been practicing? How is your voice?”

  Taken aback, Tiana said “Practicing? For what?”

  The Music Master was astonished. “Why, for Antecession. It’s quite soon. Her Royal Highness insisted on a lesson today, despite….” He closed his mouth and shook his head.

  Bewildered, Tiana said, “What, already? What happened to Kiprin?”

  Lisette said, “You spent it hiding from Cathay, remember? You thought he might try to ask you for a Kiprin Favor.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Tiana gloomily. Kiar hid a smile. It was easy for her to be amused; as a bastard of the Blood, she wasn’t required to publicly participate in the yearly cycle of holy day rituals the Royal Blood led.

  “My dear, the voice is an instrument just as the violin is. You cannot simply expect to,” the Music Master grimaced, “belt out a tune for Antecession.”

  Hastily, Tiana said, “Yes, of course. I’m ready! Lisette and I sing every week.” Then, more formally, she said, “Master, I apologize for interrupting your lesson, but I need to speak with my father privately. Perhaps you could visit my cousins while you’re here?”

  “Oh?” the Master rumbled. “Yes, I was planning to look in on Her Little Highness while I was here.” He looked between Kiar and Tiana, and then shook his head again. “Of course, of course. I’ll just gather up my notes, shall I?” He perambulated around the room, picking up papers and muttering to himself.

  Finally he heaved himself over to the door, which the guards had opened wide. “Yes, well. Watch that fingering, Iriss. I’ll just go see Princess Gisen, shall I? Yes.”

  After the Music Master passed through, Slater bowed and closed the door with all four guards outside, leaving the Blood and their Regents in relative privacy.

  “He’s a good fellow,” said the King fondly. “Always has the most delightful little stories. But good morning, Tiana, Kiar, Lisette.” He sounded cheerful, but he had the same shadows under his eyes that Tiana had. Jerya, on the other hand, looked flawless. Kiar avoided
make-up herself, but she could appreciate Jerya’s mastery of the art of appearance.

  Jerya said, “We’ve been playing for an hour. It’s good to have a break. And I think Father is feeling better. Aren’t you, Daddy?” To the others, she explained, “Father had an argument with the Chancellor about a new Regent. He’s quite happy with his manservant for now.”

  “Yes, thank you, Jerya. You and Iriss have been very comforting.” A third eidolon drifted out of him and joined the first two by the window. “I miss Tomas but I understand that sometimes these things happen. And I’m not lonely, of course.” He gestured at his eidolons.

  Tiana bit her lip. “We went exploring down in the catacombs yesterday. Down to places I don’t think anybody has walked in centuries. And we found… something odd.” She hesitated a long moment and then said, “Daddy, do you know where the Royal Pendant is?”

  He frowned and looked around uncertainly, patting the table beside him. The three eidolons all turned to stare at Tiana. Then he looked down his shirt. “I’m wearing it.”

  Tiana said, “Are you sure?”

  He smiled in a way that was becoming less and less common. “Yes, Tiana. I look at it every day.” He pulled out a twin to the pendant they had found. One of his eidolon companions reached for the pendant, but he lifted it away.

  Silently, Tiana let her own pendant dangle from the chain wrapped around her fist. The King cocked his head. “Is that real?” Another of his eidolons drifted forward and Tiana allowed it to brush spectral fingers over the pendant. The King’s eyes flashed to white and then to black again. “How… amazing. You found this in the catacombs?”

  Kiar turned her head, comparing the pendants. “They’re the same, Tiana. Look. His is cracked as well.”

  The King looked down at the amulet resting on his chest and covered it with his hand. Then he sighed and lifted the pendant over his head. “Yes.”

  “Daddy!” said Jerya, surprised. “Has it always been cracked? It hasn’t, has it?” She wrinkled her brow. “You used to wear it on the outside, right after Math died.” Kiar was impressed Jerya remembered that; she couldn’t have been more than three when King Math died. Maybe she’d inherited a touch of King Shonathan’s famously perfect memory.