Page 73 of Mistress of Bones
Damn Virel Enjul. Damn him to the depths of the Void, where there were no gods and no salvation. Where Luck didn’t reach and Death wouldn’t save him.
It was his fault that De Gracia was keeping his personal guard away. Someone had ended Zenjiel, and then an emissary had appeared on his doorstep. Sergado had known what the man was from the beginning. He had seen the eyes, had sensed the bone mask, hidden beneath his clothing. He had opted for caution and kept his studies away until he figured out his game.
The man was trouble, but De Gracia had trusted him and the hired shadow to keep Azul safe, had believed there must be a reason he needed her whole. What an utter failure in judgment. He would not make this mistake again.
But he wouldn’t kill him here, while he carried his long sword and Sergado had none of his studies at hand to help. Later, perhaps, with poison. Maybe while he slept, with a pillow or a well-placed blow.
Since Valanjians believed in their Lord Death so much, surely this emissary wouldn’t mind joining him sooner rather than later. And did they not say the god seeded himself in his believers’ bones?
With the Valanjian ambassador’s aide gone, here was another chance at getting his hands on some godly bones.
“De Gracia,” the deathling said in a cool tone.
Sergado regarded him with his usual cordial expression. “Enjul! How good to see you. Are you enjoying your stay?”
The man didn’t return the warm greeting. “You allowed your sister to come to harm.”
“What?” He made his eyes widen with innocence rather than narrow in irritation. “She is enjoying a party with my best friends.”
“Is she? Then why did I find her by the blue tabards after escaping a pair of kidnappers?”
Sergado allowed the mask to slip away, his voice to harden. “I have taken care of it. It will not happen again.”
“I trust it doesn’t. Where was your personal guard to keep her safe?”
“Where was your shadow?”
The deathling’s mouth firmed, the corners of his eyes tightening. Sergado might not be as proficient with a rapier as others, but he knew how to aim nonetheless.
“Since your man cannot be trusted,” Sergado said, “I shall make sure she earns one of my own.”
“Was it your doing?”
“Your shadow’s incompetence? I hardly think so.”
“The kidnapping attempt.”
“Why would I do that?” he asked with honest curiosity. “I hold Azul dear in my heart. She is my sister, and I won’t see her come to harm.”
“Yet you did.”
“Is this some kind of Valanjian pastime? Talking in circles?” He allowed a sneer to curve his lips. “It grows tiresome.”
A snort of disgust was the deathling’s response. “It does indeed.” He walked past Sergado, stopping for a heartbeat as they drew close. “Azul del Arroyo might be your sister, but she’s under my protection. If anything happens to her, you shall have to answer to me.”
Sergado turned to watch him go. “And who are you?”
“Your end, if she goes missing again.”
Yes, Sergado thought to himself as he watched the deathling stride away, perhaps poison while he slept.
XXVITHE DREAMER
A YEAR AND A HALF EARLIER
“What exactly is the problem?” Sío asked Edine de Guzmán, the youngest of his sisters. Irritation laced his voice like it laced the way he tapped his fingers against his thigh. He sat on a stool at his usual spot inside one of the blue tabards’ posts throughout the city. His partner had left to do some rounds—of the taverns, Sío assumed—the moment Edine arrived.
“Iriana has me delivering messages in secrecy.”
