Page 39 of Mistress of Bones
Nereida made use of the settee, unafraid its thin legs might break under her strength.
“If this is all…”
Azul turned to the footman. “Sirese Enjul?”
“He’s gone on private matters, sirese. He informed us he will return in time for supper.”
Gone, was he? Azul nodded and the footman stepped outside through a curtain of wooden beads.
“Do you wish to go now as well?” Nereida asked while serving herself some of the cold drink provided with the food.
Azul sat on the other settee. “He will expect that. One of the men who followed us from the ambassador’s estate is likely standing guard outside the entrance.” She met Nereida’s speculative glance. “I’ve been helpless, not completely witless.”
Nereida smiled faintly and picked one of the pastries. It crumbled into flakes at her bite, but she managed not to get any of them on her person or the tiled floor. She had eaten these before, probably many, many times, while Azul had learned of their existence only minutes ago.
Azul grabbed one, then another, then a third. They overflowed her hand, and they would never fit into her mouth.
But then, she did not mean to eat them.
Retrieving another tiny bone from the sea voyage, she pressed the cakes together into a flaking, messy ball and allowed the singing in her veins to overcome the reluctance she had built over the years. The Eye of Death flared, and the bone sucked greedily at what Azul was offering. How easy now to allow the power to flow, how natural to feel the pinch in her soul, how simple to ignore the bite of pain in her chest, and the knowledge that she must make sure there was something left to give Isadora. But animals pulled only a fraction, and what they took would eventually regrow.
The tiny mouse squeaked between her hands, and she allowed it free. It leaped to her thigh, the settee, and then the floor before scurrying away. Having the emissary return from death had been shocking enough—Azul did not want to experience such surprises again, and a mouse, small, insignificant, and unseen, would make an excellent second set of eyes where the emissary was concerned. And unlike the bird, she’d not allow it to die from her carelessness.
Nereida watched with morbid curiosity, still and silent. Fleetingly,Azul wondered if Nereida planned on killing her once she brought back whomever she wanted returned. If, at their base, she and the emissary weren’t so different, and Nereida also thought her an affront to gods and nature. But in Nereida’s case, whomever she wanted back weighed more than a fear of divine retribution.
“Do you think me a monster?” Azul asked.
Nereida’s expression darkened. “I have met monsters,” she said. “And you have a long way to go.”
The footman gathered the curtain of beads to the side, the clacking noise bringing the women’s attention to the entrance. A young man wearing brown breeches and an open waistcoat stood there with a grin so wide it overtook his handsome face. Azul fished for any resemblance, in the dark brown color of his hair and the slight wave it carried, in the twinkling of his brown eyes, darker than hers but holding such a similar shape.
Sergado de Gracia opened his arms. “Sister!”
XIVAZUL
SEVEN YEARS EARLIER
The lad, sixteen years of age, stared down at Azul del Arroyo, herself a mere twelve years old. Azul’s eyes were as round as boiled eggs; her mouth hung ajar at the sight of the boy, at all the finery perched on him, at the sword hanging from his belt, at the smugness on his face.
“I am Sergado de Gracia, and I am your half brother,” he said. “I have come to take you home.”
Azul closed her mouth and glanced around them, seemingly unimpressed by the notion of having a half sibling.
Of course, De Gracia knew about her mother’s occupation and knew this girl had a lot of half siblings. He knew a lot of things—coaxed out of his father’s study late at night, when curiosity was best satisfied. That’s where he’d learned about his half sister. A sister! Left behind when his mother had died, when his father no longer needed another baby to make her happy.
But what abouthishappiness? Did he not deserve a sister to dote upon, to tease, to keep him company in the dull hours of the day?
The slip of a girl with her too-long breeches and too-long shirt—made so to save on clothes down the road, he assumed with a snicker.Something she wouldn’t need in Almanueva—finally her attention returned to him.
“I can’t go,” she whispered.
“Why?” he asked in surprise. Did the girl not realize who their father was? What position the Marquess de Gracia held, what advantages it would bring her?
Her small face became quite solemn. “I must look out for my sister.”
THE PRESENT
The memories had gone hazy with time, but Azul recognized that boy in the young man sitting in front of her. Less arrogant, more joyful, but with the same determined lift of his chin.
