Page 68 of Mistress of Bones
Her shadow followed easily, unfazed by the threat but perhaps not quite so relaxed as usual.
The thought that Azul had been taken from their hands was appalling. Although it had certainly been due to her status as De Gracia’s sister, if someone else were to discover what she could do… the damage could be enormous. Del Arroyo was obstinate and would refuse to use her foulness without her sister’s bones, but everyone had a breaking point. And the woman cared too much. She would break.
If anyone were to break her, it would be him, not some stranger out for personal gain.
This game they had chosen to play must come to an end. Enjul would give her one more chance to lead him to the malady, and then he would drag her to Valanje, where no one else would have access to her.
THE PRESENT
Right before Enjul got to her, Azul threw the bone to the floor. It didn’t stop him—of course it didn’t—and with a firm hold on her wrist, he dragged her into one of the smaller alleys flowing into the plaza. She kept a smile on her face, both for the benefit of the guards watching them and because she had no fear. The moment they were alone—him, her, and the shadow—Enjul pushed her against a wall and took a tight hold of her throat with one hand.
“You dare goad me?” he snarled, his face so close, the violet-and-golden eyes blurred against her attempt to focus.
She grabbed his wrist when the pressure grew, digging her nails into the cuff of his sleeve, the skin of his wrist.
Enjul, his point made, loosened his grip. “Do you wish to die by my hand, is that it? Only way you’ll ever get to see your sister again, I suppose.”
A handful of times in the middle of the night through the years, she had wondered: if bones called to her, demanded her attention, might she be able to call them back? She had never tested it, though—there had been no need. Until now.
The Eye of Death opened on her palm, right against his skin.
Enjul yelped and threw her to the side, shaking his hand, then bringing it to the hilt of his sword.
Azul stumbled, then faced him and eyed his pose warily, her own hand inching toward Nereida’s dagger. Well, she had tested it now, and found she could do no more than provoke a sting of pain. The effort had drained her, even with a simple strip of flesh separating her from his wristbone. Living bones had a will of their own, and his had most emphatically refused her.
The emissary did not need to know that.
“I am no child,” she told him grimly, “for you to leave behind to be at your beck and call. You can kill me, this is true, or tie me toa chair until you finish your business here. But as you have probably guessed, I lied. You know I saw more of the necromancer’s victims at the exhibition.”
“Necromancer. What a whimsical name.”
“It must be frustrating, to see that a nobody, a countryface from Agunción, has acquired this gift from the gods without trying, without hours of praying, without whatever it is you’ve sacrificed to get where you are.”
A snarl curled his lips. “You understand nothing of sacrifice, of what it means to have a god touch you with his grace.”
“Bah! You may have survived death through your god’s grace, but surviving pales compared to creating, doesn’t it?”
“If your hope is tosurvivethis trip, you are not endearing yourself to the cause. Why should I keep you around when you mock me and my god? When you are of no use to me?”
“Why should I help when you see me as nothing but a tool tucked away as a last resort while you attempt to find the malady on your own? I suppose it’s vexing to fail so spectacularly.”
“As you’ve failed to find your sister’s bones? Don’t protest my treatment of you when it’s afforded you so many opportunities to attempt your goal.”
Even the most stonehearted individual would have trouble not flinching at that. Virel Enjul knew where to strike best. “It seems we both seek something we can’t achieve without the other’s help.”
He relaxed his stance. “What do you propose?”
If he meant to encourage her to relax, too, she refused to follow suit. “Let us talk in an open area, where anger won’t get the best of us.”
“You will not attempt that again,” he said curtly, motioning toward her hand, “on me or my subordinates.”
“I won’t if you or your shadows—by the way, thank you for your help—” she sniped to the man by the alley’s entrance, who took off his hat and bowed with a smile, “or your Order will never harm me or my siblings.”
He hesitated, but only briefly. “Agreeable.”
“That’s not a promise.”
“It isn’t.”
