Page 88 of Play of Shadows

‘Look at his eyes,’ she announced. ‘Corbier still has his hooks in him.’

Her companion loomed over him: a great, red-bearded mother hen with a warrior’s build, squandered on one who looked as if he were one stern word away from weeping himself to sleep. Awaste of a strong arm if ever there was one.

But a truer friend than you’ve ever known, came an unruly thought.He’d trade his life for ours even now.

The unexpected surge of affection cracked the armour of Corbier’s disdain and brought down his guard long enough for me to retake the reins of my own mind and body. My first act of rebellion was to roll over on the sofa and vomit all over the floor.

‘Saints!’ Beretto swore, leaping out of the way. ‘Is he ill? Should I find a physician?’ He was ignoring the fact that neither of us could afford one.

‘This is no wound, nor disease,’ said a third person, emerging from the dark corner at the far end of the squalid living room, where even Corbier’s acute senses had failed to notice her. Shariza came to me, the allure of those dark eyes and the unbound curls falling to her shoulders a sharp contrast to the rapier she still held in her hand. ‘It is shame that plagues him.’

Shame.

That wretched word unleashed great racking sobs as I recalled the blood I’d so gleefully spilled, the hunger I’d felt to paint the pale marble floor crimson. Tears dripped from my eyes like rain through the holes in the roof and down onto the mess I’d made on the floor as my body tried to expel this sickness inside me.

‘Oh, gods, I’m sorry!’ I cried incoherently. ‘I almost. . . I would have. . .’

Even as I wept, Corbier’s enraged sneer tried to force its way onto my lips.The Dashini was ready to kill you, you mewling babe– you think she won’t do so again when the time is right? And next time she will surely succeed.

Once again I set my will against that of the Red-Eyed Raven.Enough. No more of your blind bloodthirst and butchery. Whatever vengeance you failed to secure for Ajelaine and the children in your own time will not be found in mine.

After a brief battle inside me, the fist clenching around myheart released and Corbier went silent.

‘It’s getting harder, isn’t it?’ Shariza asked.

I gazed up at her, surprised to find the slender thread of attraction that bound the two of us was still there, even after my bout of madness. I longed to feel the calluses on her fingertips where our hands had touched during the play, the unexpected coolness of her lips when we’d kissed. . .

‘And what of my apology?’ asked Duke Firan Monsegino, stepping into the living room from the adjoining kitchen. His blue brocade silk coat and magnificent jewellery were no less out of place in this decrepit apartment than violets blooming on a dung heap.

‘Your Grace,’ Shariza said, ‘I instructed you to wait until—’

Monsegino waved her warning away as he came to stand before me. ‘My reputation is bad enough without actors spreading gossip about how the Violet Duke cowers in kitchens waiting for permission to be admitted into their presence.’

‘Forgive me, your Grace, I—’ My apology faltered when my tear-blurred vision showed me not the slender Monsegino in his finery, but the towering figure of Pierzi in his gold-inlaid armour. I blinked twice and the golden prince was banished, leaving only the Violet Duke behind.

‘You’re getting that look in your eyes again,’ Monsegino observed. ‘Perhaps you’ll be so kind as to warn me before Corbier next tries to assassinate me?’

I stared down at my hands, still clenched into fists. ‘Saints! How did I become this monster?’

‘There now,’ Beretto said, kneeling to slop a rag over the mess on the floor, grinning apologetically at the duke whose polished black boot he had to wipe after sloshing vomit on it. ‘“Monster” is a bit harsh, isn’t it? I’ve thrown up worse than this many a night, and who was it cleaned it up for me?’

It was a trite attempt at levity, but I went along with it anyway.‘Your fool of a roommate, I imagine.’

Beretto sniffed back his own tears. ‘My fool of a friend.’

‘Ugh,’ Rhyleis groaned, throwing her hands up in the air. ‘Must I write a love song about this great friendship of yours? Two failed actors living in a shithole of an apartment, wiping up one another’s puke and telling each other, “Tomorrow, my friend– tomorrow we’ll show the world that two such players as we cannot long be held down.”’

‘Actually,’ Beretto said, dropping the filthy cloth into a bucket and walking into the kitchen to dispose of it, ‘that’s not bad.’

‘I’d pay to hear it,’ I added, sitting up and almost instantly regretting it when my head began to swim. When I felt myself falling back, Duke Monsegino surprised me by putting a hand behind my shoulders, steadying me before gently setting me down on the sofa. ‘Are the three of them always like this?’ he asked Shariza. ‘I’m finding it difficult to know when they’re not acting.’

The Black Amaranth cracked an uncharacteristic smile as her eyes caught mine. ‘Forgive me, your Grace, but I find it rather endearing.’

‘Terrific,’ Rhyleis said, her derision aimed towards the heavens. ‘Now the Dashini is turning into a sentimental milksop. Saint Ebron-who-steals-breath, will someone please bring back Corbier? At least he was unpredictable.’

Beretto returned from the kitchen and settled himself into one of our rickety chairs. ‘Unpredictable?He’sthe fucking monster here. I’d just begun to find him sympathetic– heroic, even– but now? I think I’m glad Pierzi kills him in the final act.’

Monsegino reached down a gloved hand to flick a questing cockroach from the toe of his boot. ‘I’m inclined to agree with Master—?’

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