Page 102 of Mistress of Bones
The structure was made of even white stone, with glass windows on the second floor and a lovely layer of gables covering its roof. A tiny spread of bushes around a central tree adorned the plaza it bordered. Beautiful, soothing, far enough from the busier center of Cienpuentes to ensure a certain level of quiet.
Perfect for lovers’ meetings. Perfect for secret studies.
After checking the building for any other accessible openings, Sombra worked on the front lock while Azul kept an eye out for anyone who might call the blue tabards on them. The neighboring houses were similar in style and wealth, some with glass-paneled windows, others with simple shutters. Luckily, no one was peeking out at them, as far as she could tell.
The door finally opened, and they found themselves in a deep, wide hall. A staircase rose from the back and forked into narrower steps leading up the sides. Second-floor windows focused all the light onto the steps, inviting guests to investigate the upstairs. A hearth opened on one side, tapestries and paintings adorning the half-timbered walls. Two doors led to what must be the kitchen area and the servants’ rooms.
The moment Azul and her shadow walked farther into the hall, a handful of men and women—living corpses—poured out of the doors to block their exit. Some wore tabards of different colors and different insignias, some stood in simple shirtsleeves, one wore an apron, as if they had all been plucked while in the middle of conducting various duties. They were all armed.
Another four men trotted down the stairs, effectively closing the trap.
Sombra immediately faced the threats behind them.
Azul wished she could face the truth in front of her.
She was too horrified. It truly cost Sergado nothing to bring people back to life. He endured no pain, sacrificed no part of his soul: the proof surrounded her. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have no soul left? No soul to carry his thoughts, and no soul to share with those he raised from the dead? It took him nothing,nothing, to maintain these many bodies.
How could this be?
“Thank you for visiting, Sister,” came her brother’s voice from above. He went down the steps of the staircase slowly, savoring his grand entrance. “But you really should have waited at home.”
XXXIVTHE COUNT, ALWAYS
A YEAR AND A HALF EARLIER
“Congratulations on the promotion, Your Honor.”
De Anví turned to face Nereida de Guzmán. She wore a short blue jacket, tight around her torso, and a set of lighter blue skirts flaring below her waist. Combs dripping with pearls kept her artfully arranged black strands away from her face. The only sign of mourning was the dark red ribbon braided with a lock of hair, pinned to her shoulder by a brooch sporting her family’s coat of arms—a rose and a feather.
Nereida’s direct gaze met his, but he could not read it. Once he thought he might be able to, but the knowledge had been taken away from him after she had become one of the queen’s lovers. He hadn’t been able to regain it after the affair had ended, and the dark circles under her eyes and tightness of her mouth told him he wouldn’t for some time to come—he would not intrude while she mourned a sister on top of her queen.
“They are not needed, Sirese De Guzmán,” he said. “I am not interested in the position, and shall refuse it.” His duty to the royals was finished. All he wanted was solitude and the freedom to eventually pursue the woman in front of him, not the inconveniences that came with being second-in-command to the Golden Dogs. De Losa was supposed to reap the rewards, not him. So where was she?
“I believe the regent was firm about his choice. He won’t take no for an answer,” Nereida said with some mockery, and in the time it took him to inhale the soft floral scent wafting from her, he could almost believe they were back in the Cienpuentes of a year ago, trading wit and honest thoughts about the world surrounding them as they whirled around glittering ballrooms. Then the moment ended, and she was back to her usual demeanor these days—wariness bordering on anger.
He mourned the loss of her once-joyful spirit, and he wondered how to coax it forth again. “De Fernán is firm about many things, and then he forgets them in a week.”
A flicker of a smile was his reward. “This is true. You do not wish to lead, then?”
“Lead my own life, yes. Lead others in theirs, not so much.”
“Ah,” exclaimed someone from afar, “just the two I hoped to meet!”
De Anví turned to see Sío de Guzmán advance through the small crowd gathered at De Nolo’s house. Members of the court were not allowed grand entertainments during royal mourning, so instead, they held these small gatherings of fifty-some people. Sometimes a hundred. Sometimes with music. For art’s sake, of course, not entertainment. And if someone then decided to dance, well, that couldn’t be helped, could it?
“Sío,” Nereida said, hands held tightly in front of her waist, knuckles white.
“Nereida, dearest, how lucky to find you here! But truly, not lucky at all,” Sío said with a wink, “since I specifically looked for you.”
De Anví frowned. He had met with Sío de Guzmán a couple of times in the past, but other than the panic he had shown on the night of his sister’s death, he had been of a reserved countenance, someone who would never act so carefree while mourning.
“Are you drunk?” Nereida asked in a tight voice. Her eyes sparkled with ire, but also with something akin to fear. She was coiled so tightly, De Anví moved to block them from the sight of the others in case she struck her sibling.
“Now, you know I don’t partake, dear.” Then, addressing De Anví, Sío added, “And you, De Anví, are you ready to accept the regent’soffer yet? Time is running out, you know. He will not wait forever. Do not make all my work go to naught. He was quite insistent on De Losa, I’ll have you know.”
Nereida looked sick. She withdrew a step, and De Anví put a hand against her lower back, worried she might actually faint.
“Nereida?” he asked in a low voice. He tasted her name like the delicacy it was—one he could not often partake of outside his private thoughts.
