Page 82 of Mistress of Bones
“No.”
“What will you do?”
“Not be in the court.”
It was Azul’s turn to laugh. “Will your contact come to me before we arrive at the first ball?”
“Yes. While you’re on the way.” Nereida gave her a sidelong glance, her gaze resting on Isadora’s Anchor earring. “The court is bright like the stars, like Anchor itself, but it has mined anything good it ever had to offer. There is little joy to be found there.”
“Then why did you stay after the queen’s death?” Azul asked, full of curiosity.
“I wasn’t done with the court then.”
Nereida’s tone spoke of harsh satisfaction, and a shiver of apprehension ran down Azul’s back. “And you are now?”
Nereida’s smile was all teeth and full of dark promise. “Yes.”
XXIXNIGHT OF HOPE
The night sky of Noche Verde arched above Cienpuentes, a deep blue green as if Azul were standing among the understars, looking up at the sea. These infrequent green nights of summer—when the Lady Dream forgot she once killed her child and Hope dared to rise—would they bring her good luck?
It had been a week since the failed kidnapping, and four days since her talk with Nereida.
Sergado was still unaware of the kidnapping incident. Azul had tried to warn him about keeping a personal guard, but it was hard to do so without revealing the exact reason, and she didn’t want additional guards on top of her shadow. Her brother was protective of her—he would put them on her if he ever found out.
Now, as they left Almanueva on foot and slowly approached the center of Cienpuentes on their way to the Noche Verde balls, Azul realized her plan to lose her escorts would be even easier than she’d expected. The crowds made traveling by horse or carriage impossible. They clogged the way, carrying torches and lamps, filling the air with songs, sloshing the ground with wine and ale. Excitement had turned Cienpuentes’s streets and alleyways into living veins of thrumming humanity, cloaked humanity, masked humanity. Azul could barely distinguish Enjul and her brother ahead—the gods must be smiling upon her, envious of the Lord Death.
She took hold of Enjul’s arm. He wore a mask today, too—still not the bone one—green and golden and sparkling with beads. It softened the rough angles of his face, matched the blond tresses that appeared dark under the flickering torchlights. “There is one here,” she told him, worrying her lip and looking toward one of the alleys. “A necromancer’s victim.”
Enjul’s attention snapped to the alleyway.
“Tall, dark hair, pale skin, wearing a blue hat and no cloak,” she added. “Should we follow?”
He disentangled his arm from her grasp. “No, stay with De Gracia and proceed as we planned. I shall catch up later.”
Enjul merged into the crowd, making his way toward the alley, and Azul was shocked by how easily he had left her side. It ought to concern her, but the relief was too overwhelming.
Her brother had stopped a few paces ahead, looking at her with curiosity. To him, she said, “I must follow Sirese Enjul, Brother, but I will meet you at the Heart later. If Sirese Enjul and I get separated, and he returns ahead, will you tell him this?”
“Of course, Sister, but what happened? Can I help?”
Azul shook her head with a smile and made for another street. Swerving around a corner, she discarded her cloak and unhooked her earring. She tied a simple mask around her head and unbraided her hair, then approached the other side of the alleyway. She hoped the change was enough to distract her shadow, and was rewarded when, after rounding a few short blocks, she saw him walking ahead of her, his eyes darting everywhere, searching.
She slipped back into a narrow space between two houses and waited for him to walk farther away. Azul felt bad. He would likely be discharged after losing her now and the kidnapping failure, but—
“Please return to De Gracia for safety’s sake, sirese.”
Azul whirled to face a man lurking behind her, bareheaded and with clothes matching her shadow’s. Her heart sank and she cursed her daftness. Why hadn’t she considered the possibility that Enjul might put a second shadow on her?
Her mind was racing for a way to get out when the man grunted. His eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground. A stranger stood behind him, mask-free, dark brown hair loose around his shoulders beneath a black hat bearing a small plume. He was sheathing a dagger. She fought to find words.
“Don’t worry, he’s just unconscious,” the man said. “I’m Miguel Esparza, here to help you.”
“You’re a blue tabard!” Azul exclaimed. Nereida hadn’t told her that.
But then, Nereida hadn’t told her much.
“On my bad days.” His eyes narrowed, focusing on her ears covered by her hair. “YouareDel Arroyo?”
