Page 31 of Mistress of Bones
Voices rose ahead, and Azul forced the awe out of her face. Nereida’s dagger was a reassuring bulk against her lower back. They hadn’t searched her for weapons; they hadn’t taken away Nereida’s rapier.
She wondered if they were being taken to some locked cellar, and had been allowed to keep their blades to end their own lives.
“Sirese Zenjiel,” Azul said, choosing to strike now rather than from a dank cell. “May we speak in private, if only for a few minutes?” If she could convince him they had apprehended the wrong people, seed enough doubt and earn enough freedom to attempt an escape…
He appeared not to hear, so Azul had no option but to keep walking behind him.
The corridor merged into a longer one. Windows lining one side allowed a view into a beautiful square patio filled with endless geraniums, pomegranates, and queen’s blooms.
“Take that one to the blue rooms,” Zenjiel said, waving toward Nereida.
And then Nereida and most of the escort were gone, leaving Azul alone with Zenjiel and a single guard.
Leaving Azul with an opportunity to escape.
She glanced at the guard walking behind her. She could take him.
Zenjiel was another matter. Him, she was unwilling to harm—not yet. There was a lot that she needed to ask.
He stopped by an open door and indicated that she should step inside.
She tried to claim his attention again. “Sirese Zenjiel—”
“Miss Del Arroyo,” cut a voice from within the room.
Unease crawled under her skin, so strongly she was sure if shelooked down, she would see her flesh ripple across her arm. She turned toward the voice.
Her heart halted, then began a merciless pounding.
Virel Enjul stood there, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other forming a tight fist. Golden-violet eyes fixed on her beneath the puzzle of bones on his face, that cruel mouth of his forming an unforgiving line.
It couldn’t be, Azul told herself, taking a few faltering steps into the room. He must be a brother, or a twin. Maybe all emissaries looked the same.
But you’re dead, she wanted to say.I saw you bleed and fall and die.
“We will wait outside, Emissary,” said Zenjiel.
The door closed behind Azul, leaving them alone in the small room.
“You have been a nuisance, Azul del Arroyo,” Enjul said without preamble, firm and solid and not part of her imagination. This man who had been dead.
“But you’re dead,” she did say then. She stumbled back, hitting the door.
He didn’t need his bulky chestpiece for Azul to feel the strange weight of his presence pressing down on her. He wore a long cream-colored Valanjian shirt, the folds parting to reveal his long brown pants. His golden hair fell loose over his shoulders and back, caressing the embroidered collar of the shirt, his eyes shadowed beneath the bone mask.
“I am the Emissary of the Lord Death, Miss Del Arroyo. Your weapons hold no sway over me. Death decides who lives and dies.”
Shock fading, Azul forced her mind to work. Would the Lord Death also decide who lived and died outside his land? She could use Nereida’s dagger and test this theory. Then what? How would she escape the guards?
And if she did end his life, would he simply stand back up, like some creature from the Lord Nightmare? How many times could you kill Death’s emissary before Death killed you himself?
Without her, how would Isadora live?
“How did you catch up so fast?” she asked, staying plastered to the door. “Even if you crossed right behind us, how did you know where we would—?” Her words died as she realized the truth. “You knew all along. You knew I’d go to Monteverde and find no bones there. You knew I’d be forced to travel to Cienpuentes.”
The last words were a whisper, more awed than she wanted, but some things just couldn’t be helped. Like the sweat pooling on the small of her back or the uneven hammering of her pulse.
“Of course I knew,” he answered. “The rituals of death are an emissary’s purview.”
