I thought of the rope upstairs, its knots as dark as charcoal. That was the part that bothered me the most. Hiring a Mouth to speak a spell is one thing; spoken magic is hard to trace, difficult for the empire to come down on. But portable glimmer like Tamas’s rope was another thing entirely; magic of that sort had been outlawed by the empire three centuries ago. It was still around, of course; it just cost-a lot. More than I had thought I was worth.
But if she was now willing to go that far…
If.
“There won’t be a next time,” I said.
Eppyris grunted.
I looked up, meeting his eyes. “There won’t.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, both of us feeling righteous, or just right, or stubborn, I’m not sure which. Finally, Eppyris sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“My shop is here,” he said. “I’ll stay for now. But Cosima, Alarenna, and Sophia will go to her mother’s tomorrow.”
“Eppyris, they don’t have to.”
“Yes, they do,” he said.
I wanted to argue, but didn’t. I wasn’t about to put my pride above his family.
“Here,” he said, setting the steaming cup before me. “This should be ready. I’ll prepare a salve and set it on the stairs for you. Do you need more ahrami?”
“Yes.” I picked up the cup. The brew was hot and bitter and scorched my throat on the way down.
I heard the click of a lock, the soft rattle of a latch being turned. A male voice spoke; it was Josef, my sister’s butler. The words were muffled by the double doors leading from the hallway to her parlor. I was in a room farther beyond, in Christiana’s bedroom, but I could still make them out.
“Will you be needing Sara tonight, madam?”
“No, thank you, Josef. It’s late. Let her sleep. I can manage.”
“As you will, madam.”
I heard the outer chamber doors open, then close, saw the flicker of approaching candlelight reflected on the marble floor. I had left the doors between the bedroom and parlor ajar.
I bit down on the seed in my mouth, worked it for a moment, swallowed. It had little effect, as the painkilling potion Eppyris had given me also dulled the ahrami. Still, it tasted good, and after my argument at the baths with Degan, I’d take whatever solace the night was willing to offer.
He had wanted to come with me; I had refused-not because I didn’t want a sword at my back after Tamas’s attempt, but because I didn’t trust him when it came to Christiana. I’d seen the way Degan looked at my sister, and the way her eyes played over him. It wasn’t that I thought he would harm me when it came to her; it was just that I wasn’t sure he would let me harm her.
And I wouldn’t brook outsiders-not even Degan-interfering in family matters.
I sat in a high-backed chair in a corner of the bedroom. Behind me, the window I had entered through let in a soft breath of air, sending the flame of the single candle I had lit to flickering. The candle was on the far side of the room, letting me remain in shadow while still putting my night vision to sleep. When the bedroom doors opened fully, I was ready for the light.
Christiana entered, all grace and ease, the skirts of her emerald and almond gown flowing with her every movement. The neckline had slipped, revealing a smooth shoulder among the chestnut avalanche of her hair. In her left hand was a candelabra with three buds of flame growing from silver and wax stems. Her pale eyes were distant, her brows drawn slightly down, her lips pursed. Weighing the implications and innuendos of the evening, no doubt. After two steps, she smiled to herself, then nodded; someone at court, I knew, was doomed.
Then she noticed the lone candle. She noticed me. The candelabra almost fell out of her hand.
“Bastard!” she gasped. “You nearly scared the life out of me!”
“Can’t have that,” I said.
Christiana glared at me for a moment, then relinquished a darkly playful smile.
“Still don’t know how to use a door, I see,” she said as she continued into the room.
“I find it best to avoid your servants.”
“Always the cautious one.”
“You should talk,” I said.
My sister gave a thoughtful smile. “I suppose. He did teach us both well, after all.”
He. Sebastian. Our stepfather.
He had come striding out of Balsturan Forest three years after my father’s death. I had been seven at the time; Christiana four. Our mother had kept him at arm’s length at first, but time had won her over, and the trapper had become our second father.
It quickly became clear, however, that Sebastian had once been more than a trapper. Trappers didn’t know how to pick a lock and evaluate a fine wine, how to fight with a rapier and dance a galliard, how to speak the thieves’ cant and practice court manners. Sebastian had known all this and more, and he’d spent as much time teaching these things to Christiana and me as he had maintaining his trap lines and repairing our home. Our educations had been distinctly divided, with Christiana learning the courtly graces (mostly) and myself learning the darker skills (again, mostly). I could cavort my way through a pavane if necessary, and Christiana was an acceptable hand with a small rapier, but our familiarity with each other’s studies had crossed only when Sebastian needed an extra set of hands to help teach something.
My mother hadn’t understood why he insisted on teaching us all of these things, since we lived in the wilds and not the city, but Sebastian had only smiled his slippery smile and said-as he always had-that there was more than one kind of education. Besides, if our chores got done, who was to care? Our mother had merely shaken her head and made sure we got time for ourselves.
She had died six years later, and Sebastian had been killed a handful after that. Left with a two-room cottage in the woods and little desire to stay, Christiana and I had eventually found our way to Ildrecca and put what Sebastian had taught us to use.
Unfortunately, we’ve gotten into the habit of using our educations against one another in the intervening years. I doubt it was what Sebastian had had in mind.
Christiana set the candelabra on a small table in the middle of the room, then moved over to her bed, placing its richly covered expanse between us. She began removing her rings, setting them on a bedside table.
“I was beginning to think your man would never get that forgery done,” she said. “What kept you?”
“Business.”
“A poor excuse, but typical. Still, I’m glad you’re here.”
I let out a single, dry laugh.
Christiana looked at me askance. She had turned away, placing herself in profile. “You’re in a splendid mood tonight, I see.”
“I get that way when people try to kill me.”
“I thought that was an occupational hazard for you.”
My voice caught in my throat. “Sometimes. But this wasn’t Kin business.”
She had begun removing a web of gems and silver thread from around her neck but stopped when she heard the change in my voice. She turned, and the look of aristocratic indulgence faded from her face. Christiana’s eyes became sharp. Languid grace turned into steeled suspicion.
“Drothe?” Her voice dropped a notch and slid to the back of her throat. “Why are you here?”
I gave no answer, since I wasn’t all that sure myself. All I knew was that the rage inside me was demanding action-vengeance. I stood up and began moving toward her.
“I suggest,” she said, “you sit back down and we talk about this.”
I shook my head. “Not this time, Ana. We talk my way.”
One of her fine eyebrows went up. “I see,” was all she said. As I came around the corner of the bed, Christiana began edging back.
I laid my hand on my rapier. I was only a handful of paces from her now. “This has to end,” I said.
“Same as always, dear brother.” The corner of her fine, painted mouth turned up. Christiana raised her voice. “Josef!”
I was moving before she go
t to the second syllable, had my left hand to her throat just as she finished. I shoved Christiana back over the night table and up against the wall. By the time the doors to the bedroom opened, I had the dagger from my forearm sheath at her cheek.
“Mistress!” Josef shouted. It didn’t sound like he was alone.
Christiana and I were close, nearly pressed up against each other. The heady smell of perfume filled the air between us, her own spicy scent just discernible beneath it. I could feel the vein in her neck pulsing fast beneath my palm, see the flush as it spread across her skin. My own heart was pounding in my ears.
“Tell them to leave,” I said, my voice almost a gasp.
Christiana locked her gold and blue eyes with mine, set her shoulders against the wall, and straightened her back as best she could. She did not struggle. Instead, I felt something sharp against my stomach.
“No,” she said.
I glanced down and saw a dagger in her left hand. Its handle looked remarkably like part of the decorative carving on her headboard. A quick glance to my right showed me where the disguised blade had been moments before.
I put enough pressure on my own knife to dent her skin, but not to cut. “Send them away, Ana.”
She glanced at my dagger. “Poisoned?” I turned up a corner of my mouth in answer. “I think I’d like them to stay,” she said.
I heard hushed voices talking behind me.
“Best get out, Josef,” I said, my eyes still on my sister. “Unless you want to be looking for a new position come morning.”
Christiana let out a light laugh. “You wouldn’t,” she said to me. “You never could.”
My grip on her throat tightened. She gave a small cough, but the mocking light in her eyes remained.
“And you,” I said, “always would. Without a second thought.”
Her shoulders rose, fell. “What can I say? I’m a bad girl. I never listened to Sebastian.”
“Your loss,” I said.
“Maybe.” Then some of the steel faded from Christiana’s eyes. “But not this time, Drothe. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”
“I doubt it,” I said, sounding more certain than I suddenly felt.
“Fine,” said Christiana. I felt her dagger move away from my stomach, saw Christiana toss it on the bed. “Fine. If you want to kill me, get it over with. I’m tired of waiting on you-either do it or take your hands off me.”
Her face was set, her chin raised in defiance. But I could feel her trembling, see the soft edge of doubt that marred her iron stare. She was afraid. And that was when I knew; Christiana was too good a liar to let weakness show through her facade-only the truth could cause the cracks I saw there. If she’d sent Tamas after me, she would have anticipated this possibility and been ready with a better lie, a better excuse. And she damn well wouldn’t have given me the satisfaction of seeing her afraid at the end.
I looked from the dagger on the bed back to my sister. It had been too easy; too obvious. That wasn’t Christiana’s style-we were too much alike in that regard. And the magic-even she knew better than that.. ..
“Decide, Drothe,” said Christiana.
I still had my hand on her throat and a frown on my face when someone put a sword to my back. I let them pull me away from her.
My sister’s eyes turned soft in that moment. “Sometimes,” she said, “you’re incredibly stupid, Drothe.”
I had to agree with her.
“How dare you!” shouted Christiana.
I winced at the noise. My head had begun hurting again shortly after the guards pulled me away from her. Each word caused an accompanying throb at the base of my skull.
“How dare you think me so simple, so naive, so… unskilled as to have an assassin come after you in my own livery?”
“I’ve already apologized,” I said. “Now, will you stop yelling?”
“I’ll yell all I want!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose with one hand even as I wrapped the fingers of my other around the chair arm to keep from throttling my little sister. All of a sudden, not killing her seemed like the wrong choice.
I was in the high-backed chair again. After disarming me and piling my weapons on the bed, the guards-excuse me, “footmen,” as my sister preferred to call them-had all but thrown me into the seat. Christiana had then dismissed them. She didn’t want the hired help hearing what came next.
Josef, knowing about Christiana’s and my relationship, was allowed to stay. He had listened attentively to my explanation until I came to the part about Christiana’s letter; after that, he took himself and the letter off to one side. Now he sat at my sister’s writing desk, his prodigious nose bent over the piece of paper.
Christiana herself was pacing back and forth in front of the bed. Her skirts whispered and snapped as she turned at the end of each circuit. She was not pleased with my explanation.
“The Blade wasn’t wearing your livery when he tried to dust me,” I said, “only when he arrived with the letter.”
Christiana paused midstep, raising her chin in that haughty way she’s always had. “And you naturally assumed I was behind it.” She actually had the audacity to sound indignant.
I lowered my hand and looked her in the eye. “You’ve got to be joking,” I said. “The livery, the letter, the setup-what would you think? It’s not as if I don’t have history to fall back on here.”
“We reached an agreement about that, Drothe. I gave you my word!”
I snorted. “I know the worth of your word,” I said. “Don’t forget, I’ve paid visits to people you’ve given your ‘word’ to in the past-all at your request. I know better than to trust your word, Ana.”
Christiana waved a dismissive hand. “That was just blackmail and politics. This is different.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s me. It’s personal. Even less reason to trust you.”
“So then, why didn’t you kill me? You had your chance.”
I almost told her it was because I hadn’t liked the odds of getting out alive, that I had better things to do. Instead, I told the truth.
“Like you said,” I told her, leaning back into the chair and slipping a seed into my mouth, “it was too straightforward. The messenger to the letter to the assassin to you-you’d never leave a trail that broad for me to follow. If I hadn’t been so tired, so angry, I might have even realized that first. As it was…” I shrugged.
Christiana raised an eyebrow. “Why Drothe, that’s almost a compliment. You do appreciate me.”
“What I’d appreciate,” I said, “is getting some answers. Stroke your ego on your own time, Ana. I have other things to worry about.”
Christiana pursed her lips. “Ooh, poor Drothepholous. With me out of the picture, you don’t know whom to kill now, do you?”
“I can always make an exception,” I said pointedly.
She dismissed my threat with a sniff. “I don’t suppose you have any idea who might want you dead-besides me after tonight, that is?”
“No.” I had already been considering the question myself. The number of people I had crossed recently was small; the number who could afford a Blade of Tamas’s ability, even smaller; and the number who were powerful, or desperate, enough to use magic made it, well.. . zero. Except someone had hired the Blade, given him a piece of glimmer, and sent him after me.
I slumped down farther in the chair. One of the bruises Tamas had given me found a hard edge somewhere and began protesting. I grimaced, then shifted slightly-no good.
“Drothe… ” said Christiana.
“Ana,” I said, “if you warn me about dirtying the upholstery one more time…”
“I don’t give a damn about the chair, Drothe.” There was iron in her tone. I stopped shifting around and looked up.
“How did the assassin know to wear my livery?” she said. “Mine. To get to you?”
I blinked at her implication. If they knew to put Tamas in her livery, they knew about our relationship and knew
to send me a letter under her name.
I began mentally kicking myself. That I had missed this was bad enough; that Christiana had had to point it out was even worse. Now I’d never hear the end of it.
“Who knows about us, Drothe?”
“I… No one.” I shook my head, thinking. “The two of us, Degan, Josef. Maybe someone who remembers when we first got to Ildrecca, but I doubt it. It’s been too long-they would have acted on it before this.”
“So, whoever hired the assassin just got lucky and guessed I’m your sister? With no help from you?”
I sat up straighter, not liking what she was implying. “I don’t know,” I said. “You’re the ex-courtesan. You know more about people getting lucky than I do.”
It was a cheap shot and we both knew it. I deserved the kick she launched at my shin. That still didn’t mean I let her land it, though.
“You bastard!” she yelled. “You know I don’t talk about family. I was a courtesan, not a whore like you’re used to. I catered to my patrons’ minds as well as their bodies, and as hard as it might be for you to believe, talking about my brother the criminal was never a part of that. Do you honestly think I’d risk what I have here and at court just to talk about you?”
I was opening my mouth to make things worse when Josef cleared his throat.
“Ah, if I may… ” he said.
“Yes?” said Christiana as she and I continued to glare at each other.
“You’re both assuming whoever is behind this knows about your.. . relationship,” he said. He tapped the letter I had handed him earlier. “This doesn’t mention that at all. If anything, it reads more formally than most of the baroness’s correspondence with you, sir. More of a summons than a letter, if you will.”
“There’s a difference between the two when it comes to my sister?” I said.
Josef coughed discreetly.
“So they may not know anything about our blood,” said Christiana.
“Just our business,” I concluded.
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