Page 57 of Play of Shadows

Shut up, Damelas! Just shut up and smile—

But my treacherous mouth was already open. ‘Like all nobles, you think that spending your days diverting yourselves with schemes, intrigues and petty seductions makes you an actor.’

Anger and outrage flashed across her face, and for a moment I feared she was about to summon the wardens. . . Then the coquettish smile returned to her lips. ‘So, no part in your new play for me, then? How does that old saying go? “When a Veristor takes the stage, all who witness must join the play”? Come, Master Chademantaigne,’ she took my arm, ‘let us leave this dull and dreary place for brighter avenues, where you may beguile me with your Veristor’s insights into my many deficiencies.’

With that, she led me across the marble floor to the stairs, ignoring the wardens staring at us and no doubt wondering what a patron wearing an ebony and gold mark was doing with a common strumpet on his arm.

Is no one in this city who they appear to be?

Chapter 27

The Viscountess

The late afternoon sun glared down upon us, the blinding rays like sycophantic court toadies reflecting their master’s grandeur into the eyes of his subjects.

‘Oh, I had forgotten how Jereste gleams in autumn!’ Viscountess Kareija said as we passed an elaborately carved marble fountain with a golden crown shooting water into the air so it could rain elegantly down upon the blue pertine flowers surrounding it. She took my hand and leaned against my shoulder. ‘Come, Master Chademantaigne, let us wander these streets together and forget about those intrigues the world seeks to impose upon us. Just a man and a woman, strolling together, seeing the sights as tourists might, playing—’

‘Playing for time, my Lady?’

‘Why, whatever do you mean?’ Her downcast eyes were full of innocent rebuke.

‘You seek to delay me, my Lady, when I am due at rehearsal to prepare for tonight’s performance. Is it it that you wish to stop the tale of your ancestor’s enemy being revealed to all upon the stage?’

‘You are cruel in your suspicions,’ she said, jutting her chin out petulantly, ‘and all too free with accusations against yourbetters.’

‘All I desire from my betters is that they should leave me alone.’

‘Why, Damelas,’ she laughed, ‘I do believe that is the single most naïve statement I have ever heard– and from an actor, no less!’

Kareija’s hand was light in mine, yet I felt like a dog kept at heel by its leash. She rested her head on my shoulder as we resumed our stroll along the boulevard. ‘Now, my audacious Veristor, pray tell, how do you know I’m not here on my nephew’s behalf?’

Her coral-coloured curls tickled my jaw. The warmth of her body next to mine was as intoxicating as her perfume. How long had it been since a woman wanted to walk arm in arm with me down the street? And yet Kareija’s presence made me think only of another whose touch I found myself unexpectedly longing to feel again.

Perhaps Shariza follows us even now, waiting for a sign – either to kill me, or to save me from whatever scheme the viscountess has in mind for me.

‘I possess no secret knowledge about your relationship with Duke Monsegino, my Lady,’ I admitted as she led us into one of Jereste’s abundant public gardens. ‘I know only that his Grace would not send his beloved aunt to dally with a mere actor when he already has an agent at his command more suited to the task.’

‘The Black Amaranth.’ The venom in Kareija’s voice was unmistakeable.

‘The Lady Shariza,’ I corrected.

She let go of my arm and walked to an ornately carved oak bench. She sat and patted the spot beside her. Obediently, I joined her.

‘Best not fall in love with a Dashini, my clever Veristor. The Black Amaranth– and that’s the only name that foul weed deserves– almost certainly intends to murder you before this is done.’

That hardly makes her exceptional of late,I thought, but what I said was, ‘Again, my Lady, I must protest at this delay. I’m expected at the Operato Belleza, and if you are not working against your nephew’s interests, then you must allow me to—’

‘Has Firan told you of his abiding love of the theatre?’ she asked abruptly. Seeing my confused expression, she added, ‘I’m surprised. I thought perhaps that was why he’d taken such an interest in you.’

‘Admiration for the performing arts appears to run deep in your family, my Lady.’

She either missed the jibe or intentionally ignored it. ‘Oh, my fatheradoredthe grand theatres. That’s why Jereste has so many players gainfully employed in the great operatos. But Firan. . . ah, poor Firan.’ She tapped a finger on my knee. ‘The very moment he saw his first historia– about another of Pierzi’s legendary exploits, as I recall– Firan was besotted. You can’t imagine the screaming fits when he failed to convince his parents to let him renounce his titles and become an actor. At first I thought he was simply being a wilful little boy, until the night he made me accompany him. Ah, the dandies, the comedias, the tragidas, and above all, the historias– I confess, I too fell in love with all those elaborate sets, the costumes, the players. . .’ Her finger drifted up my thigh. ‘. . . Some players in particular.’

Although Beretto might suggest otherwise, I’m not actually a celibate monk. The stirring I felt at the touch of this voluptuous noblewoman was maddeningly intense. But this wasn’t genuine flirtation, merely another lazy exercise of power, hardly different from her earlier implied threat to summon the city guard. I resented my own arousal.

‘You’re doing it again, my Lady,’ I said.

‘Doing what?’ she asked.

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