Page 101 of House of Dusk
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go see what’s behind that gate.”
• • •
This time, Yeneris came prepared. The flask of oil wasn’t as dramatic as an entire jar of naphtha, like she’d used at the necropolis, but she hoped it would be enough to drive back any ghouls lurking on the other side of the bronze gate. She’d also taken the precaution of coating her sword in emberwax. It wouldn’t last long once ignited, but it was better than bare bronze. She’d also borrowed a torch from the lower storerooms.
“Here.” She handed their small oil lamp to Sinoe, gesturing for her to stand to one side of the gate. The sulky flame did little to light the chamber, and did not penetrate the deeper darkness beyond the gate at all. But Yeneris saw no uncanny gleams, heard nothing but her own steady breaths.
Sword in one hand, hairpin in the other, Yeneris stood before the gate. She looked to Sinoe. “Ready?”
Sinoe’s eyes were huge, but her lips firm. “Ready.”
Gingerly, Yeneris extended the hairpin, brushing the crust of dried blood against one of the bronze bars.
Nothing happened.
She tested the bars, but they held firm.
“Maybe it needs to go in a particular spot?” suggested Sinoe. She held up the lamp, directing the frail beams over the gate.
Possible. Yeneris leaned closer, squinting at the bars. “I don’t see any old blood.”
She tried prodding the pin at several other spots, then gave up and slid it more quickly across the grill, filling the air with a dissonant chiming.
Still nothing. Yeneris blew out a breath in frustration. “It’s not working. Maybe the blood is too old. Or we’re misunderstanding the prophecy.” She glowered at the pin.Opened only by the blood of the Ember King.There didn’t seem to be any other reasonable interpretation. But who knew what was reasonable to the Fates. “Maybe it’s talking aboutyourblood? You’re his daughter.”
“Why would Lacheron seal his secret workshop withmyblood? It’s not as if he can stop by for a vial whenever he needs it. Also,ugh.”
Yeneris stared at her, the words tugging at her. “You’re right. It makes no sense to use your blood.Oryour father’s.” She let out a low laugh as the truth finally tore free. “This isn’t going to work. We’ve got the wrong blood.”
Sinoe frowned. “What do you—”
“Shh!” Yeneris tensed, cocking one ear toward the outer door. “Someone’s coming!”
Sinoe started toward the door, but Yeneris caught her arm as a key clattered. “We need to hide.” She tugged Sinoe toward the desk that held the map. It was solid enough they might just escape notice, so long as whoever it was didn’t stay long.
They ducked behind the heavy mahogany. Sinoe shuttered the lamp just as the outer door creaked open. Someone paced into the room. Then halted. Yeneris held her breath, her entire body tense and fluttering. It did not help that Sinoe was curled against her, shoulders pressing into Yeneris’s chest. She could feel her soft, shallow breaths. And her hair, sweet with rosewater. Fates, what if he could smell it? Surely he must; it seemed to be everywhere, filling her nose, her mouth, her chest.
If they were discovered, she would fight. She would drive her sword into the man’s lying throat and let him choke to death on his own blood.
A murmur. Words she couldn’t make out, that might have been in another tongue for all she knew. Then a flare of strange, sickly light.
Sinoe trembled. Yeneris’s free arm tucked around her. Their fingers met, lacing together. The bruised light cast strange shadows against the wall. Yeneris watched them, gripping the hilt of her sword. There was a faint grunt, the noise a person might make bumping his head. Or pricking his thumb. Then a grinding creak of metal.
Then footsteps, receding. The odd light had also fled.
Yeneris eased herself free of Sinoe, though their hands remained inextricably linked. Now that they had touched, it felt impossible to break apart fully. To deny either herself or the princess the comfort and steadiness of that bond. Cautiously, she craned her neck to glance over top of the desk. The room was empty. But the gate was open now, the passage oozing a heavy, purplish light. In the glow, Yeneris caught a single glimpse of a figure stalking away from them down the narrow passage.
“Lacheron,” she whispered, helping Sinoe to her feet.
She shook her head, frowning. “How did he open the gate?”
Yeneris crept closer, taking the lamp, releasing a single thin bar of light to shine across the open gate until she found what she was looking for: a smear of fresh crimson blood.
“With blood,” she said. “Hisblood. Your father isn’t the Ember King reborn. Lacheron is.”
CHAPTER 28
YENERIS
