Page 37 of Mistress of Bones
Irked by his knowing tone, she spoke again: “But Sirese Zenjiel felt different from my sister.” As if he were a simple animal, not a person. This she kept to herself—why give the emissary more information?
“If this other malady has no control over the corpses, as you have said, then why kill and bring him back at all?”
“That’s for you to figure out.”
He turned his back to her, and she was disconcerted anew by the softness of his hair against the width of his shoulders. Murderers ought to be all harsh, vicious angles, with no beauty to recommend them. He had known Zenjiel was alive again and killed him all the same.
Her gift was a good thing, not a foul malady—new life was a celebration, not a curse. He had no right to dispute that, wouldn’t judge her so much if he understood what it took out of her soul to use it. The reminder turned her mouth dry. She must not use her gift on another person if at all possible—if she gave all her soul away, how would Isadora live? Who would look over her and make sure she got to experience a full life?
“Silvo Zenjiel’s death could have been an accident,” Enjul said. “Perhaps his killer felt guilty, like you, and decided to repair their fumble.”
Azul winced. “He’s—was—high enough to have his own guards, wasn’t he? You’d have to go out of your way to accidentally cause such a person’s death without anyone knowing. Could it be one of your ilk? Another emissary? You make death your domain, after all.”
Enjul turned slightly, enough for Azul to fear that he would loom over her again and she would find her wits scattered on the floor. “Such a creature wouldn’t have been born in Valanje without the Lord Death’s knowledge or permission.”
“Then you need me,” she said. “Sirese Zenjiel can’t be the only person this malady has brought back, if their aim is political power. It could be anyone in Cienpuentes. They don’t lack for court members, I’ve heard. Your emissary status will not help you there. The people will cower and hide from you, and the malady might run. Without me to point out the signs, you may spend years walking around the city, not realizing half its citizens used to be dead.”
He said nothing, so she added, “Whoever it is, they’d need to be in close contact to bring people back to life, I’m sure.”
“Not to mention murder them,” Enjul muttered.
And Azul knew he meant to re-murder all of them. An unexpected weight sat in her stomach. Heavy, but not quite dense enough to stop her quest for Isadora’s bones. “Knowing who this malady brought back will narrow who has access to all those people.”
“And you will return with me to Valanje after this deed is done in Cienpuentes? No other ploys?”
She looked at him solemnly. “I give you my word.”
“Honor is a cheap quality when confronted with the choice between integrity and our heart’s want. And you want too much, Azul del Arroyo.”
Azul couldn’t deny this. For Isadora, she’d do anything, break any promise. But this was between her and Enjul, and she did mean it. Once Isadora was alive and safe and hidden, Azul would happily go wherever Emissary Enjul told her to.
Azul was starting to learn she could be quite ruthless.
Hadn’t she felt relief over this emissary’s apparent death at the port? Was she not happy to take Death to Cienpuentes as long as it put Isadora within her reach?
“Take me to Cienpuentes,” Azul said, “and I’ll do whatever you want.” She couldn’t outright barter for her sister’s life, of course—Enjul would never accept that—but it wasn’t as if she could hide her intentions. In this, the emissary was right: she was too easy to read. It would be on her to figure out how to access her sister’s bones without his knowledge.
And she would have to do it fast, for he would give her only so much time before he sent her to Valanje.
Enjul stared at her for a long time, no doubt considering how the trip might pan out, weighing Azul’s worth while he had her trapped versus this other necromancer doing what they wanted.
Then he leaned forward, close and close and close until his bone mask was resting against her temple, and everything in Azul screamed to open the Eye of Death and feed off his body.
“Remember, Miss Del Arroyo: What you do affects others.” Chilling words breathed hotly into her ear, sending shivers down her back. “They affect your mother, they affect your other siblings, they affect Nereida de Guzmán, they affect all who have aided you. Do not allow your obsession over your sister to ruin those surrounding you. You may attempt to run, but I will find you again. I will not stop until you’re accounted for, your transgressions against the Lord Death answered for. Do not believe that just because you hold this one pieceof knowledge over me, I am in your hands. You shall make my search easier, but I will not think twice of ending your life if you become a nuisance, nor will I hesitate in ruining those who have become part of your plans.”
He left her side and went to the door, opening it to the empty darkness of the hallway outside. He paused, offering his arm as if they were polite acquaintances instead of people with completely opposite views on life.
“Shall we?” he asked.
Azul forced herself to close the distance separating them and gingerly hooked her fingers around the inside of his elbow. His shirt was as soft as it looked, the arm underneath as firm as any other’s. She had expected something to happen at the contact, a similar feeling of wrongness to the one she’d had when first stepping onto Valanje, but he simply felt human. The parts of her Enjul had unsettled with his words and threats anchored back into place.
The gods were no fools.
But the emissary was human, and people could always be fooled.
XIIITHE CITY OF A HUNDRED BRIDGES
Cienpuentes spread below Azul, Nereida, and the emissary, the dozens of islands so saturated with buildings there was no original rock left to see. The city overflowed, like the river whose delta it had invaded, to crawl around the big round bowl of the lake, as if attempting to join on the opposite side.
