Page 65 of Mistress of Bones
She didn’t want to know if the necromancer’s victim wearing a blue tabard she had spied during the exhibition was around. She didn’t want to know if she was in the building or what she looked like up close. She didn’t want to unintentionally run into her, chance a bump of their skins, and then…
Then another corpse due to her.
The thought gave Azul pause. Zenjiel and the two people at the exhibition… If there were three victims, there were likely more. How powerful was the other necromancer, to raise all these people? Did this person have any soul left?
And more important, if the necromancer were to see Isadora oncereturned and recognize her for what she was, would they end her life in retribution for Azul ending Zenjiel’s?
Azul swore to herself she would not allow this. She would hide Isadora from Enjul and from the other necromancer, have her smuggled out in the middle of the night so nobody would see.
But Enjul’s search might be for nothing. The other necromancer might already be dead, soul spent, and those they had brought back gone on without them. What a relief to imagine that Isadora could remain were Azul to meet her end.
A blue tabard came for Azul and guided her up the staircase to a room with a sturdy desk and Captain de Macia standing behind it. Instead of a tabard, she wore a blue waistcoat with silver embroidery and silver buttons down the front, and the same type of breeches and boots as the guards. Draped over another chair was her half cape, dark blue with more silver accents.
De Macia nodded at the guard, who retreated into the hallway. After a warm greeting, she indicated another free chair, which Azul made use of.
“So,” De Macia said, occupying her own seat behind the desk, “how is your mother?”
“Very well, thank you,” Azul replied. “How is my little sister?”
De Macia gave her a rueful smile. “Keeping my household busy. How long have you been in Cienpuentes?”
“A few days now.”
“And you must stay a few more and come to supper with us. Now, tell me, how can I help?”
Captain de Macia hadn’t advanced in the ranks for lack of a sharp mind.
“I was subject to an attempted kidnapping earlier today,” Azul said matter-of-factly, “so for the sake of my well-being, I thought I should let someone I trust know I am currently staying with one of my half brothers, the Marquess de Gracia.”
“Were you harmed?” De Macia asked, all business now.
“No, they were very polite.” At the captain’s answering snort, Azul added, “Yes, my thoughts too. They intended to use me as a lure to arrange a meeting with my brother.”
“‘Attempted kidnapping,’ you said.”
“I escaped.”
“Is the Marquess de Gracia aware of all of this?” Then, in a loud voice, “You came alone, yes?”
Azul glanced over her shoulder to catch the blue tabard peek in and nod.
“Should we send word to His Grace that you’re here?” De Macia asked.
“No need. I already sent a message with my destination.” To the detriment of Azul’s purse. Nereida had assured her they had more coin, while Sergado alluded to a stipend—but where was all this money supposed to be? Nowhere within her reach.
After a curt, dismissive nod of the captain’s head, the blue tabard returned to his previous position somewhere down the corridor, and she focused again on Azul. “Give me the details.”
Azul was glad to comply: “There were two masked captors and the servant who lured me from the gathering. Although it’s possible that the servant was simply asked to deliver a message and wasn’t aware of the implications.”
“What gathering?”
“My brother’s friends were having one. He must’ve sent word that he meant to introduce me, because nobody was surprised by my attendance.” Azul studied De Macia’s expression—serious but not shocked. “Are kidnappings in Cienpuentes common?”
“While all kinds of crimes happen in the city, yours is not the first kidnapping for the sake of simple talks in the last couple of weeks.” Seeing Azul’s disbelief, she elaborated, “Three men cornered the Count de Anví not long ago, seeking a similar result.”
Azul remembered the count, standing stiff and looking miserable at the exhibition. “He came to you for help?”
“Hah. No, of course not. He’s a Golden Dog and we’re the Blue Bastards. He would rather choke on his guts, I’d imagine, before coming to De Mavén for any sort of help.”
