Page 87 of Mistress of Bones
Esparza grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, twisting one arm behind his back.
“Wait,” De Anví said. He walked closer to the struggling pair. The darkness was nearly complete, but something about the man’s features felt familiar.
“Release me,” the man seethed. “On the order of the City Guard.”
“De Guzmán,” De Anví said in surprise, his hand stilling around the grip of Valiente.
Esparza stepped back instantly. De Guzmán spun and glared at them. “How dare you?”
“Mind your words with His Honor, the Count de Anví,” Esparza barked.
De Guzmán stiffened and lowered his head. “Your Honor.” His gaze flickered to the other man. “Esparza?”
“Why are you sneaking around?” Esparza asked, his tone low but menacing.
“I… Oh, you’re the reason, isn’t it?” De Guzmán turned angry. “She lied to me about Iriana, and she came to meet you, didn’t she? What have you dragged Edine into this time? Curse you—”
“Lower your voice,” De Anví snapped.
“Sorry, Your Honor,” De Guzmán said, immediately contrite.
Esparza took hold of De Guzmán’s doublet and pushed him against the wall again. “What do you mean about Edine?”
“She’s somewhere around here,” De Guzmán hissed. “Looking for you in the middle of the night, I bet. How dare you drag her into one of your schemes?”
Esparza’s hold loosened. “I have no meeting with Edine, De Guzmán. I am here with the count today. Where is she? What is she doing around here?”
De Guzmán’s shoulders crumpled, his anger vanishing. “Oh, damn, she was telling the truth.”
“Explain.”
“She’s convinced some dirty ploy is being done behind our sister’s back.”
De Anví was suddenly alert. “Your middle sister?”
“No, Iriana. Edine wanted to investigate some rumors. I’ve been trying to find her in this maze.” He hesitated. “Will you help me look for her?”
Esparza opened his mouth, but De Anví made a sound of warning.
More sounds came, different ones, from a distance: faraway shouts and the rumble of running.
Esparza cursed and pushed De Guzmán away. He glared at De Anví, as if seeking permission, but De Anví could not give it. Saving the king was more important than following his latest conquest.
“Go,” Esparza barked to De Guzmán. “Find Edine and take her away. I will find her later and we’ll sort this out.”
De Anví didn’t wait to see if De Guzmán did as he was told. He strode back to the main street and turned the corner. A second later, Esparza joined him, rapier in hand. Figures ran through the passageway above.
Ahead of them, the door of the house started to open. Esparza took two fast steps and kicked it the rest of the way. Cries rose, a scramble. Esparza produced a dagger in his free hand and went in.
“By the gods’ Anchor bones!” he exclaimed with savage relish, “I will make short work of you lot, for I’ve got someone waiting for me.”
Opening his cloak and unsheathing Valiente, De Anví followed.
THE PRESENT
No smile, no mischief, graced Nereida de Guzmán’s features when she appeared at the entrance of the small storage room. De Anví drank in the sight—the black hair artfully gathered in a braid around her head, the dark blue waistcoat, the embroidered cream-colored breeches, the polished ankle boots. She was the hardest, most bitter liquor he had ever tasted: burning all the way down to his chest, grabbing an instant hold of his mind. He didn’t move from his place by the lamp, his back against the wall, and he watched her gaze take in the room, take in the Witch sitting on a crate, then widen as it found him.
Nereida despised surprises as much as he did, and the tightening of her mouth told De Anví he would pay for this at some point. A price he was eager to pay for catching her fleeting, unguarded shock.
